"M'not hungry," he mumbled to Snape when he was directed towards the table where a bowl of sweetened porridge waited for him. "Too early."

"Just a little," Snape ordered anyway.

Harry yawned.

When Snape urged him to move again, Harry had managed almost half the portion. "Brush your teeth, boy." Harry nodded and did as told.

"Time's it?" Harry asked when he'd brushed his teeth. His eyes still felt as if they were glued together in sleep.

"Four thirty," Snape answered him promptly. Harry blinked. "Come, the basilisk beckons."

Harry shook his head. "Sleepy," he told Snape. He had already turned around and was half lying on the sofa, a blanket clutched in one hand when Snape turned around to see what Harry was doing.

"Oh, no, Potter," Snape murmured in his ear and tugged him up on his feet again. "Very good. Come now."

Harry nodded. "Your good boy," he agreed.

"Indeed." Snape's lips were twitching as if he were supressing a smile. Harry was still holding his blanket tightly. "You are going to open the secret door in my office, Potter, and we are going to visit the Chamber of Secrets again."

"Like, special mission?"

"If you like."

"M'kay," Harry yawned.

So Harry asked the snake in the fireplace to turn the fireplace, then asked it to close after Snape and him were through. He was still tired, and his feet weren't quite cooperating with each other. After he'd stumbled one time too many, he felt Snape's arm come round his shoulders. Harry closed his eyes and rested his head on Snape's shoulder. They stopped walking. Harry felt Snape tug on the blanket in Harry's hand, then it was being tucked around him like a warm cloak. They started walking again, and Snape's arm was still holding him safely.

When they reached the Chamber, Snape stopped. He transfigured a shoddy sofa. Harry was curled up on it in a flash. "Mmmmm," he mumbled.

"Yes, I imagine it is," Snape agreed. Harry felt the blanket being tucked over him, then felt the warming, comfortable sensation of a gentle Heating Charm being placed on the sofa.

—x—

Harry wasn't sure how long he slept before Snape woke him up again. He felt confused and disorientated for a short moment, before he remembered where he was.

"Lunch, Potter."

"Time's it?"

"Eleven."

"Oh."

Harry also remembered Snape's evil machinations that had woken Harry up at four bloody am. He scowled. "Why the fuck couldn't you wait 'til now like a sane person!" he growled at Snape.

Snape smirked. "I prefer to harvest potions ingredients early in the morning."

"It was in the middle of the night!"

"If you say so." He didn't sound at all as if he agreed. Snape sat down in the sofa he had transfigured. "I brought some sandwiches for us. Chicken or quorn?"

Harry glared. "Chicken," he eventually answered.

"I also have some lentil soup."

Harry paused in the process of unwrapping his sandwich. "Can I have that instead?" Snape's lentil soup was fab. Harry wasn't sure he'd ever eaten it before he moved in with Snape, but the man had made him try it once. After that first time Snape had forced it on him, Harry hadn't exactly needed to be convinced to eat it again. There was spinach in it as well, he knew, and probably garlic, if Harry wasn't completely off. But it was warm and filling. "Please, sir?"

"Very well." Snape produced a thermos from the canvas bag by his feet. Next came out two bowls and spoons.

"It's spinach, right?"

"Not this time."

"I like the one with spinach."

"You like this one as well."

Harry blinked. The soup itself didn't look different from the other times he'd eaten it. "Oh." He took a cautious sip, loved the taste as he always did, and shrugged. "S'good."

When he was done eating the soup, his stomach felt very warm and full. Eating so soon after waking up from a glorious nap had made him sleepy again, but if he stayed up and didn't lie down, he probably wouldn't fall asleep. He yawned, then cleaned his utensils with a flick of his wand.

"Are you going to eat your sandwich?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Your soup wins every time. I'm totally full."

"Very well." Snape carefully packed the used bowls and spoons back down in his bag, then did the same with the sandwich Harry handed him. "Are you able to assist me now?"

"Slicing up the basilisk?" Harry considered the question, then shrugged. The snake was dead and couldn't possibly hurt him now.

Snape glared at him. "We do not slice, Potter. You may, on the other hand, remove its teeth. I will provide you with gloves."

Harry sat very still.

"Potter?"

"It bit me, you know." Harry rubbed the spot on his arm where the basilisk had bit him. He still felt it, sometimes. How it'd burned through his veins like ice and fire at the same time. "Fawkes saved me." There was a still a nasty scar, despite the healing properties of the phoenix's tears. Guess it showed just how corrosive and lethal the venom of a basilisk truly was.

"I have already removed the venom sacks," Snape murmured. He placed his hands on Harry's arm. "May I see?"

Harry nodded. Snape pushed up the sleeve of Harry's jumper. There was a roundish scar on Harry's lower arm. Snape rubbed over it with his thumb. "This could have killed you."

Should, Harry filled in, it should have killed him.

"I know."

Snape muttered something then that almost sounded like, what was the old fool thinking? Harry wasn't sure, though.

The rest of the day was, much to Harry's surprise, rather pleasant. He helped Snape chop up the basilisk – dissect, Snape insisted, not chop or slice – until all that was left was a pile of charred flesh. The skeleton, the teeth, the venom sacks, the scales and what had been left of its blood and organs had all been carefully harvested. Snape had even managed to collect the basilisk's spinal fluid.

With an unfamiliar incantation and wand movement, Snape set the pile of flesh on fire. It was the only part of it that was completely worthless, Snape had told him.

—x—

Glad for the reprieve it being a Sunday gave, Harry spent quite some time pottering about in the attic above the seventh floor once they came back from the Chamber. He'd only been there for a short visit, once, but it'd been enough time for him to discover that there was loads of stuff up there. A lot of which would look really good in his room. It wasn't that he didn't like what he had, or that he thought Snape was shoddy at decorating, because that wasn't the point.

It was Harry's room. His. And Snape had told him to do this weeks ago, but Harry'd always put it off, for some reason or other. Until today. Why today, he had no idea, except that it felt right, somehow.

He found himself a gorgeous roll-top desk. Not one of the huge, bulky things he'd seen in films, but a smaller one with only drawers down one side instead of both. If he felt like being secretive – or just to hide his mess from Snape – he could just roll the top down and cover up the incriminating evidence. It was made of a dark wood, covered in scratches and marks, very clearly having once been used for a very long time. With a grin, Harry shrunk and pocketed it.

It wasn't exactly like he'd come up to Hogwarts' attic with a plan. So Harry spent a couple of hours scouring the large room for anything that struck his fancy. He came away with more oil lamps than he could possibly use, but he hadn't been able to put them back once he'd picked them up, so he'd bagged them all. He was particularly fond of the one that looked like a sphere of faintly shimmering glass, with a dragon in some kind of metal stretched out over it, partly holding the glass sphere in place. It even came with a friend, portraying a phoenix instead. Then there was the armchair. It was deliciously soft, feeling as if you'd just sunk into it instead of just sitting down. It was purple, had lion feet in dark wood, and one dark green armrest. He wasn't even sure if he could fit it in his room, but he was bloody well going to try. The chair he'd found for his desk was made from a light wood, and had a large, bulging cushion. He found a bedside table that looked like it had been carved out of rock. It was so black, it looked like it ate light. Harry was firmly convinced the dragon and phoenix lamps would look absolutely fab on it. The large armoire he'd found – it was freakishly huge! – he planned on modifying further when he came home. If his calculations were correct, it and the desk would just precisely manage to squeeze in next to each other up against the wall. The armoire was just as shabby as the desk, only blue, so the scuffmarks looked sort of dignified to Harry.

The second he got home, he disappeared into his room. He left the door open so that he could levitate the furniture he didn't need any more out into the sitting room. The sitting room that was growing increasingly more cramped, thanks to all the extra furniture now littering the floor.

"Potter!"

There was a crash, then Harry poked his dusty nose out from his room. "I'm redecorating!"

With a sigh, Snape carefully maneuverer his way around, only to be blocked two feet inside Harry's room by a massive armoire. That was levitating. It moved wobbling through the air, slowly turning. It met the wall on the short side of the room with a dull thud, then landed with a much less muted crash. Harry was already pushing the desk in place, smiling with satisfaction at the – narrow – perfect fit.

"Yes! Look, sir; it's perfect!"

Snape's lips pursed as he surveyed the state of the room. "And the rest of it?"

Harry grinned. "I know exactly what to do! The chair goes in front of the desk, see? And I thought I could put the armchair next to the door, on your left, right? And the bedside table—"

"Next to the bed, perhaps?"

"Yeah, exactly. I've got it all under control, trust me."

"Yes," Snape agreed, "That is the most worrying part. A Potter decorating…" He shook his head. "And what do you intend to do with my sitting room?"

"Oh, um, nothing. I'll fix it as soon as I'm done here." Harry was wrestling with one of the doors on the armoire. One already stood on the ground next to him. The doors had been positioned next to each other vertically, with three drawers at waist height between them, and were rather narrow. There were large, taller, doors on either side, both closed, and both with two drawers underneath them.

Snape shook his head, backed out, and silently closed the door.

"Ha!" Harry cried triumphantly as the door gave in and came loose. Snape was already forgotten. He waved his wand, and his books came flying, all inserting themselves neatly wherever they fit best on the empty spaces. The phoenix oil lamp went in as well, on the shelf with the highest space upwards. Harry cast a protection charm anyway, just to be safe.

The armchair was easily moved into position, a hanging oil lamp fastened to the ceiling above it, another fastened to the wall. Two lamps were positioned on the wall above his desk, a stationary one with a handle made of black iron put on the top of his desk. There were three lamps, all designed to hang from the ceiling, and he fastened them in a semi-circle right in the middle, dangling from different heights.

The top of the desk was rolled up, quills and ink and parchments, even a book or two, was carefully placed on it. He even pulled a tiny drawer out to place his inkwell on, then an old jug next to it that he stuffed his quills in. His practice Snitch went on top of the desk, as did the one framed photo he had of his parents

It wasn't until it came to the unpacking of his trunk and hanging up his clothes that he paused. The entire term, he'd either only worn school clothes, or robes, often both at the same time. Since staying with Snape, he'd nicked some of his clothes, mostly jumpers and thick, woolly cardigans that he'd never seen than man wear anyway.

The clothes left in his trunk were Dudley's old cast-offs. There was no way he was hanging those up in his new armoire in his own room.

The decision of what to do, he realised, was quite simple.

"Snape!"

"What?"

"I need help!"

It took some time before the door opened. Maybe the old furniture was more in the way than he'd realised?

"Yes?" Snape leaned on the door, one hand still on the handle.

Harry cleared his throat. "You, um. Asked about the Dursleys." He cleared his throat again, then toed his trunk. "They, um, didn't buy me clothes."

"Something you choose to not to mention, I see."

Harry shrugged. "Um. 'Cause I did have clothes. They were just…old and didn't fit. But, then, as I was packing up just now, I realised…"

"That they were neglecting you? Yes."

Harry shrugged. "Not really. More that I didn't want them any more. I need to go shopping. Somewhere Muggle. So, maybe next time I see Derek, I could go to a shopping centre afterwards."

"Not Wizarding?" Snape walked over to the armoire. The doors were open on both sides, even though Harry had hung his school clothes on the left, which was almost all he had once he tossed out Dudley's rags.

"I have robes already, I want jeans and T-shirts—"

"—and jumpers of your own, perhaps? This is mine, if I recall correctly." Snape pointed at the jumper hanging neatly, almost alone, on the right side. "As is the cardigan you're wearing." Snape gave him a darkly amused look. "In case you were under the misapprehension I hadn't noticed."

Harry grinned, not at all remorseful. "Oops?"

—x—

Later that night, after dinner, Harry slumped on the sofa, flexing his toes. Snape was sitting in an armchair across from Harry, reading a thick book about something Harry couldn't understand – the title wasn't even in English. "Are there eye doctors in the Wizarding world? Special ones, I mean, like opticians? Or is any Healer as good as the other?"

"There is. Why?"

"Just thinking maybe I should go see one. Pomfrey's been on me about that. Especially since last time, what with my left eye getting worse. I think maybe that's what the headaches are about, you know?" Harry clenched his toes, heard them popping. "And I've been reading about the Animagus Transformation, too. I actually tried meditating about it yesterday. I'm not sure if it worked, 'cause I kept dreaming about chasing squirrels in trees, then eating mice and being petted."

The dream had taken quite a different direction after that.

There was a vague sound of agreement from Snape.

"Snape?"

"Yes?"

Harry poked him with his toe. "Are you listening?"

"Naturally."

"So…you think I should get a tattoo, then?"

Snape's looked up, rather slowly, a single eyebrow raised.

Harry winked. "Just checking."

"Mmmhmmm. Fetch tea, boy."

Harry thought of protesting, then realised he was feeling like a cuppa anyway, shrugged and headed off for the tiny kitchen. He could've ordered up a tea set from the Hogwarts' kitchen, but doing it himself, the Muggle way, felt better.

—x—

Snape had talked to Pomfrey, who had called someone in from St. Mungos so fast Harry was convinced she had been about to do it regardless whether Harry asked her to or not. The examination was somewhat harmless and relatively quick. The Healer, a way too perky newly graduated young man by the name of Burke, had asked a lot of questions.

"—and I've been having headaches, just behind my eyes and it just feels…like something's strained."

"Mmmhmm," Healer Burke clucked. "I see. When was your last sight examination?"

"Well, I mean, Madame Pomfrey's checked it out at least once a year, but other than that… Muggle primary school?"

Healer Burke's lips tightened slightly. "I see. Close your eyes." Obediently, Harry did. Burke had been surprisingly nice, for a doctor. He had much softer hands than Pomfrey, too, which might've had something to do with Harry complying so quickly. Burke touched his eyelids, fingers light as feathers.

"Here, and here." Burke applied the slightest pressure. "The spell I am about to use will hit those spots. Some feel a burn."

"Okay," Harry whispered.

"Good."

When the spell came, Harry flinched. It burned something awful. "Ow!"

"Did it hurt?" The fingers were back, cool and soft, prying Harry's fluttering eyes open. His eyes continued to flutter, instinctually trying to close. "Try to keep them open, Harry."

"Doesn't want to," Harry mumbled.

"I know. Tilt your head back. There, just like that. Very good. I will apply a potion. You may remember the Muggle doctors doing something similar."

"Hurt my eyes in the light."

Burke laughed. "This won't."

Burke helped him keep his eyes open as he dropped a single drop of a clear potion down into his eyes, one at a time. "Now blink as much as you like."

Harry did, even kept his eyes closed for as he could get away with. His eyes felt swollen and sore.

"It seems you're having a slight adverse reaction to the potion, Harry. It will make things a little harder, but it shouldn't harm you in the long run, do you understand?"

Harry pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Snape?"

"Healer Burke is essentially correct, Potter," Snape drawled from the chair he was sitting in next to Harry's bed. "Proceed."

"See, Professor Snape agrees." Burke sounded as if he was laughing.

"You were a Slytherin, weren't you? This is a Slytherin conspiracy."

Burke definitely laughed, then. "Can you open your eyes now, Harry? There are only a few steps left, and then we are done with the examination, and Professor Snape can provide you with the correct anti-allergy agent. Then you can visit my partner's shop and find yourself a new pair of glasses."

A new question occurred to Harry. "Is it expensive?"

"I suppose that's—"

Snape spoke up, neatly silencing Burke. "Christmas is near, isn't it?"

"Snape—"

"As I understand it, I've quite a number of years to make up for."

Harry felt his ears turn hot. He wanted to duck his head, but couldn't because Burke was holding his face up, attaching a metal piece of spindly equipment across his face. There were holes just in front of his eyes, which Burke was now busy sliding pieces of glass into. A warm feeling spread under Harry's breastbone.

Years to make up for.

Did that mean Snape wanted him…like Harry wanted him? Wanted Harry as something more…permanent than a student Snape was temporarily allowing into his flat, his home – his life? Harry couldn't stop the shy, elated smile from curving his lips.

Burke smiled back; he was, after all, standing straight in front of Harry, then said, "There, Harry. I want you to tell me which colour is more clear—"

—x—

Harry had wanted to rush off to London that very same afternoon, after the examination, but Snape had put a stop to that. Instead, they had waited for the weekend – and the start of the holidays. Tom hadn't been exactly pleased with Harry's decision to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas, but, well.

Harry wanted to be with Snape. He still wasn't sure what the plans Snape supposedly had were, but Harry was kind of hoping that if he was just tenacious enough, then maybe Snape wouldn't toss him out on his ear. That, and Harry was sort of hoping, too, that the almost three weeks off from school would reveal once and for all if Snape and him could get along long enough to, to bond.

Like…family.

Anyway, Derek had promised to explain a bit about that to Tom, which was only too well because Harry'd a feeling he'd only have mucked it up otherwise.

So, dressed as Muggles, Harry and Snape tackled shopping in London, at Christmas time. It was…chaotic.

"What are all these people doing?"

Snape snorted. "What every other insane person is doing at this time of year, Potter: buying gifts and tinsel."

They were currently, after only two hours out 'in the field' as Harry felt tempted to call it, safely ensconced in a small café. Snape was drinking 'flavoured coffee' – whatever that meant – and Harry had given in to the slightly childish urge and ordered a large cup of hot chocolate, complete with whipped cream and marshmallows.

"Tinsel?"

"And baubles. Tinsel and baubles. Have they not heard of the concept 'reusing'?"

Harry shot Snape what he thought was a rather discreet look. It must not have been very discreet, though, because Snape groaned.

"You want a tree, don't you?"

Harry smiled. "And tinsel and baubles and lights and boughs of holly. And, um, stockings."

Snape rubbed his forehead. "Very well," he sighed. "I suppose I can stand the baubles and tinsel."

"Not the other stuff?" Harry frowned a little. He didn't want to be greedy or ungrateful, but—

Snape took a sip of his coffee. "I have the 'other stuff' every year, Potter. I am not a Scrooge, contrary to popular belief."

"Oh. That's great, Snape!" Harry grinned. "I've never decorated a tree before, but I've always wanted to. I used to watch from my cup— Um. I mean—"

Snape's look was dark. "Rest assured, I shan't lock you in a cupboard, Potter. Not even if you stick tinsel to my walls with permanent Sticking Charms."

Harry's grin was only a little self-conscious. "That'd be hard, since I'd have to move the bookshelves first, and—"

"—They're stuck to the walls with permanent Sticking Charms already, I know." Snape smirked. "However, I wouldn't put it past you to succeed. If only because of your sheer stubbornness."

Harry laughed. "Right, 'cause that's my mission in life."

"To cause me undue pain and suffering through your harebrained stunts? Yes, I do quite think it is."

Harry nudged Snape with his shoulder. "That would make me supremely intelligent, though, wouldn't it?"

"Hmmm, yes, perhaps not," Snape agreed, sounding greatly amused.

"Oy!"

Snape smirked.

"So…when are we gonna get a tree? Can we do it today, after we get back?"

"Tomorrow. Ah!" Snape objected as Harry opened his mouth to protest. "We'll find one in Hogsmeade tomorrow. You can spend all afternoon decorating it to your heart's content."

"You'll help, too, right?"

Snape blinked, then inclined his head. "If you wish."

Harry nodded firmly. "I do. Definitely. It'll be like a proper Christmas, then."

Snape's gaze turned considering. "Proper?" he wondered. "Yes, I suppose it will be."

That afternoon, Harry came home with the receipt for a pair of shiny new glasses. The glasses in question fit, were the correct prescription and balanced out the much weaker vision he had in his left eye. The only downside was that he hadn't actually found any new clothes. Well, that was a bit of a lie, because he had, just not as many as he'd hoped.

The queues had been way too long. After having visited one or two shops, the prospect of standing in yet another queue had been rather unattractive. But he had managed to find a pair of jeans, a couple of new T-shirts and a new pair of trainers. Snape had grumbled about the last purchase not being suitable for winter wear, but Harry'd shrugged him off.

It was his money, and his choice.

Oh, right. Snape had paid for his glasses.

Harry felt…happy and uncomfortable and warm about it all at the same time.

Teachers didn't buy you glasses, did they? Or bought lunch and books for you, did they? Granted, it had been fictional Muggle novels, but Harry had been fully prepared to pay for them, when Snape had sneakily paid for them behind Harry's back.

The moment Harry was alone in his room, the door shut behind him, he broke out in a brilliant grin.

—x—

"There you are. I was afraid I would have to go tree-hunting alone."

Harry froze in the doorway to his room. "It looks horrid, doesn't it? I knew I should've—" His new glasses had arrived by Owl that morning. The world had never been more clear. They were new, and therefore different. When he'd tried them on in the shop, and Snape had given his opinion on them, it had felt so right to buy them. Which didn't explain at all why Harry was so nervous about the glasses all of a sudden. Maybe it was because he was wearing his new clothes, too, and it all just looked so different from usual?

"Quite the opposite, Potter." Snape placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and studied him intently. "You look very mature."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Really?"

Snape nodded. "Put on your cloak, and we'll go."

Harry nodded and disappeared back into his room. The cloak he came back in was worn and had clearly seen better days. He had a ridiculously fluffy – turquoise – hat on his head, a Gryffindor scarf around his neck and fingerless – pink – gloves.

Snape looked him over but said nothing, even though Harry was sure he'd noticed that the cloak Harry was wearing wasn't exactly Harry's, but an old one of Snape's. Harry put on his old shoes that stood by the door leading out, not wanting to use his new ones quite yet. He'd save them for after Christmas.

When they were halfway to Hogsmeade, walking through a slushy mix of snow and mud, it started snowing again. It had snowed on and off all weekend as the temperature shifted from just below zero degrees, to a few plus and back again. Harry stuffed his hands, fingers red and stiff from the cold, into the pockets of his cloak.

"Have you no proper winter clothes, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "I always forget. The other years, though, Mrs Weasley always asked if there was anything I needed, and she'd send along some of her kids' castoffs. I've always been smaller than Ron, so it's never been an issue. But I guess I must've grown more than I thought, 'cause the cloak I had last year don't fit anymore." He pulled a hand out and wiggled his fingers. "Neither did my gloves. I borrowed a jacket of yours yesterday, too."

"I noticed." Snape's tone sounded a bit off and cryptic at the same time.

"Oh."

"You have no boots, then?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. Too small. So, see, I've grown some."

"Indeed. How much have you grown since this summer?"

Harry stuck his nose in the air and sniffed. "Not really the point, is it?"

"If you say so, Potter." Snape smirked. "An inch, do you think?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, squared his shoulders, and hurried his pace. Behind him, he could hear Snape chuckle at his antics. He was so focused on not slipping that he didn't notice that Snape had caught up to him until the man placed an arm around his shoulders.

"On the other hand, you have put on some weight, haven't you?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess."

Snape squeezed Harry's shoulder, then let his arm drop. "Good. As for the tree, try not to pick the largest one you can find."

—x—

It was a protesting and blustering Harry who half-heartedly objected as Snape bought him a pair of boots that very same day. They were dark brown leather, lined with something deliriously soft, had thick soles and a number of charms and spells on them.

"You already gave me new glasses, Snape, you really don't need to—"

"Yes, I do."

"But—"

"Harry."

Harry shut up. He smiled goofily the entire way back, a hovering tree levitating after them obediently. And yes, it was big. Not the largest one, oh no, but far from the smallest one.

—x—

Later that night – whether it had to do with Christmas spirit or Snape or something else entirely, Harry didn't know – he sat down and composed a letter to Charlie. As he wrote it, he wondered why he hadn't done so sooner. He couldn't come up with one good reason other than that he'd been distracted – and just how good was that as a reason, anyway?

There was a knock on his doorframe; Harry tended to leave his door open unless he was sleeping. "S'open," he called anyway.

"Potter—"

"I liked it when you called me Harry," Harry blurted, focusing very intently on signing the letter.

Yours, Harry, he had finally chosen. Not too presumptuous, was it?

"I'm sure," Snape drawled. "I was wondering what your plans in regards to the tree were?"

If Harry were a dog, his ears would've perked up. "Did you get the decorations out?"

"No, I burned them. The tinsel was vexing me." Snape said it in such a deadpan voice that Harry'd whirled around, a scandalised expression on his face, by reflex.

"You didn't!"

Snape's smirk was almost gleeful. "No, I didn't. Are you coming?"

Harry wanted to glare, but he was too busy smiling. "I, yeah. I was just writing Charlie."

Snape's lips curled, a faint look of distaste on his face. "I don't like what he did, nor do I approve." His voice was tightly controlled, but Harry easily picked up on the fact that the man was angry.

"But—!"

"I know what I said, Harry. That said, he should not have done what he did." Snape sneered. "Then again, even I was young."

"Really, sir?" Harry drawled.

"You're pushing your luck, boy." Harry laughed. "As for Mr Weasley. What is 'some stuff'?"

Harry's face went beet red. "Um. You know. Stuff."

"Yes? Shall I fetch pictures? Diagrams?"

"No!" Harry squeaked. "Um. No!"

"Anal intercourse?"

"Stop. I'm not listening!" Harry slapped his hand over his ears. "Lalalaa~!"

Snape grabbed Harry's hands and pulled them away. "Mature, Potter. Truly. I ask because you are a minor. Mr Weasley is not. Do you understand?"

Harry blinked. He paled a little, but not much, still being very red in the face. "Oh. I wasn't sure what the, um, age of consent was. Seventeen?"

"As with everything else. Well?"

Harry shook his head. "We didn't even get completely…" Harry cleared his throat. "I was still sort of dressed. In the morning. So was he. We got each other off, that was it. Yeah, I wasn't ready. Still am not. If that makes me a freak, fine. But I wasn't exactly saying no at the time, you know? And yes, I know it's because of the alcohol, but I've gone over this in my head so many times. I talked with Derek about it. I've talked with you. I don't know how much else there is I can do without talking to him again, and, well. I'm still not sure what's bothering me about it besides the fact that I haven't heard from Charlie since the first of September." Harry let out an explosive breath. "There. That's it."