~~~~HP~~~~

What the hell was all of that?!

Harry flung himself onto his bed the moment he was back in his bedroom, not caring about the slamming door behind him. He could feel the panic rising within his chest as he struggled for oxygen, making it hard to think clearly. Desperately, he tried to slow his breathing, recognizing, after the horrible conversation with Dr. Swanson, that he was having a panic attack. They had become too common for him, especially since Sirius's death and his cancer diagnosis.

And why am I thinking of Sirius now?!

It was such a random thought, he could only assume it was because his brain was trying to sort through too many things all at once and the lines were getting crossed somewhere in it all. It was a lot to process and not only because of the last memory where he saw Snape, the man he's come to trust and depend on, almost hit him. He was so sure that this Snape was different; this Snape didn't abuse the power he'd had and like everything else in his miserable life, he had been wrong. In his current state of panic, it never even occurred to him that the memory he saw was the shift between the Snape he used to know and the Snape that was there with him now; the man he respected, the man he had started to love.

In his jumbled mind, he instantly jumped from one thought to the next. How did all of that even happen to begin with? Once he entered his Occlumency forest, instead of flying overhead, like he had been doing so often when he practiced, he had been held firmly in place by a black cloud of darkness as everything unfolded before him. No matter how hard he tried to free himself, he was completely stuck in place with absolutely no power to move; that in itself was a terrifying feeling. What was that holding onto him? And how were Snape's memories able to be projected into his own mind? He couldn't even do magic right now, so it shouldn't have even been possible.

Once again, his thoughts shifted, it was as if each one was a grain of sand filtering across his brain. He was able to see his mum as a normal kid and as a teenager not much different than he was now. She was beautiful, kind, and he would give anything to have been able to know her himself. He grieved all over again for the mum he never had. From viewing the memories, it was now obvious to him that Snape had loved his mother; not like a friend nor like a sister, but he had truly loved her. Harry could feel the emotion as the memory played before him. What would have happened if they'd never had their falling out?

I wonder if he went skiing?

He was then brought to the memory of him and Snape doing something that was one of his biggest regrets from his childhood - not getting to be a part of any holiday traditions. He used to spend every Christmas locked in his cupboard while Dudley decorated the house and the Christmas tree with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, baked Christmas biscuits, and opened presents; all while he sat there wishing he could change himself into the kind of child they would at least want, or - if he were in a particularly emotional mood - maybe even someone they might have loved one day. Yet right before his eyes he saw that exact thing he'd been longing for; he felt Snape's love for the boy that was Harry, but at the same time not himself. For a brief moment, he was filled with pure elation.

Harry couldn't stop the tears and the burning question in the back of his mind; was he grieving for his mum, for Snape, or for the boy he wanted to be? Did it really matter?

Things had been going so well for him and Snape. He had truly started to care about Snape; he felt like this was his home, where he belonged, and now it was all pulled out from underneath him, just like everything always was in his life. He was slowly drowning in the grief that filled every cell in his body, once again he had been betrayed by someone he was supposed to be able to trust.

The Gryffindor had the urge to leave, to get as far from the dungeons as he physically could. But where would he go? Could he walk away from Snape forever? No matter how he felt at that exact moment, deep down he wasn't sure he was ready to do something that drastic.

The young wizard finally fell asleep sometime around three in the morning, still sprawled across the top of his bedspread, feeling once again all alone in the world, and completely unaware of the trickle of blood flowing down from his scar.

It was like fate was trying to mess with his head more than usual, because that night he dreamed about Sirius for the first real time since he started living with Snape. Unlike his normal nightmare about Sirius, this one was not about his Godfather's death through the veil. Rather, Sirius was standing before him - at the house in Godric's Hollow he'd dreamed of before - lecturing Harry about how disappointed he was with the young wizard. Sirius kept laughing at Harry asking him over and over how he could be so naive as to think Snivellus would actually care about him. Somewhere within his sardonic laughter, he told Harry how his dad would be extremely disappointed to know that the young Gryffindor was thinking of - or even wishing for - Snape as a father. It ended with Sirius face to face with him asking how could Harry not know that by now he was destined to be alone; he would always be alone.

"You disgust me," was the last thing he heard in his Godfather's voice before he sprung awake, tears pouring down his cheeks.

~~~~SS~~~~

Wednesday 18, December 1996

As with the teenager in the room beside his own, Severus hardly slept at all that night. He stayed up going through all of the different conversations he'd had with Harry in the last few months about what life was like in his old reality and he tried to find ways he could have told the Gryffindor what had happened to cause him to change his views on the child. The times were there, he had just been too cowardly to take them; too afraid of shattering the life he wanted to be living. It was something he was not proud of; he was better than that and now he couldn't blame anyone but himself for Harry's feeling of betrayal.

It didn't surprise him the slightest when the young wizard did not show up to breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning. If it were any other day, the professor simply would have assumed the Gryffindor had slept in too late or was otherwise running late and decided to take his breakfast back at home. Unfortunately, given what last night had entailed, he wasn't so sure that was the case. Most likely, Harry had wanted to avoid seeing Severus completely this morning, and again he couldn't blame the teen.

"Where's Harry this morning?" Minerva asked from his left as breakfast was coming to an end. "He should have at least one exam today, is that correct?"

Minerva had previously approved for Harry to skip his practical exams - since he's not using magic at the moment - which meant he would not be in this morning's defense practical. It would definitely complicate the situation even further because now Harry would have no reason to see him before dinner. The Gryffindor would still be attending his Potions practical exam today, so he at least knew where Harry would be at some point of the day, which helped ease his anxious mind if only a little.

"We had an issue with Occlumency last night," he answered. As Harry's guardian, she did have the right to know that something had happened, though he wasn't going to go through the specifics.

Based on the incensed look from his colleague, she had assumed the worst.

"Oh, Severus," the elderly witch started to lecture him, "please do not tell me it was anything like last year!"

He gave her words some solid thought. Was it different than last year's failed attempts at teaching the young wizard? In the end, he'd determined this was at least just as bad, if not worse.

"No," he half-lied, standing to take his leave, refusing to subject himself to her piercing glare and the questions he really didn't want to answer.

As if proctoring practical exams all day wasn't trying enough, doing it on little to no sleep and being highly distracted made for an uncomfortable experience for both the professor and his students. By lunch, when Harry still hadn't shown up, the former spy was getting legitimately concerned. He decided to give the Gryffindor until dinnertime, before he started a search for Harry and in the meantime, he'd keep an ear out for signs of any trouble.

The deadline - and the rest of the day - dragged on until Severus found himself in his final period of the day before dinner; every professors' open office hours. He was trying to distract himself by staying on top of his marking of the written exams, so he wouldn't have to do them all on Friday night before the official close of term. Unfortunately, his mind kept circling back to the events of last night and he finally gave himself the opportunity to sort through it all.

If he could only get a chance to explain the situation, he was sure Harry would understand what had occurred between them, both directly after that memory and in the years to come. It had been the catalyst that forever changed their lives, as Severus had been ashamed of his own actions as well as shocked to his core by Harry's acceptance of them. He wanted the chance to explain to Harry that, while the single event he crudely saw started the change, it wasn't just that night that altered things between them. In fact, the rest of the year had proceeded in as much of the same way as it had in this reality, except without the acerbic reaction on his part to the Gryffindor. No, back in his old reality, he'd tried not to let it affect him, and in doing so it continued to eat away at him as the year progressed. In the years to come it ended up being something he'd come to feel almost grateful for.

That memory, when shown on its own and out of context, was dangerous. In fact now that he thought about it with a clearer head today it seemed almost too targeted. What had occurred during their Occlumency session? He'd never seen anything with that type of reaction - attack was the better word for it - happen before. If his own Occlumency shields were useless because they were in Harry's mind, then how could his memories have been projected? It was as if Legilimency was being used within Harry's own mindscape, which is something he'd need to do some heavy research on. Could it have been Harry's unintentional magic coming through to defend against the potential attack? If that were the case, the more important questions would be why the sudden return of this magic and could his unintentional magic do something like Legilimency when Harry himself did not know how? The professor highly doubted that was possible, which only left one more possibility. It had to be the Dark Lord's soul fragment. If Voldemort could do Legilimency against Harry through that connection from Malfoy Manor, who was to say he couldn't do it against another mind within the Gryffindor's. It was possible - and even more probable now that they knew the Dark Lord was aware of their connection - that the evil wizard would know when another mind had entered Harry's and it staged the attack. His heart started to race as he worked his way through the implications of this idea. Instantly, the potentially fatal memory from last night played in his head:

"Thanks, Dad," Harry said, grabbing one of the cups and sitting on the sofa.

The Dark Lord would have seen those memories as well, which meant it wouldn't be long before he put some kind of context to them. The former spy doubted even the Dark Lord would get to the answer of him being from a different reality, but now that he knew what to look for in Harry's mind it was, yet again, becoming more important for the young wizard to learn how to protect himself from an attack.

"Severus?"

The defense professor was brought out of his own thoughts by the knock on his door and his name being called. Not surprisingly, it was Minerva standing at his office doorway, but her worried eyes brought forth his own anxieties over Harry.

"What happened, Minerva?" He asked, standing to go with her, images of Harry at the hospital wing coming to the forefront of his mind. Those were quickly dismissed when she gestured for him to sit back down and she sat in the chair across from him.

"Horace just stopped by my office," she started, "Harry missed his Potion's practical examination this afternoon."

This was not good. Severus should have checked in on him regardless of the young wizard's supposed need for space during this whole ordeal. His eyes clearly spoke of his worry for him as Minerva continued.

"He's said he'll allow Harry to make up the exam without any penalty," the elderly witch explained, "so that's not as much an issue. I can tell something happened last night and I do believe it's time you tell me what that was, so when we do find Harry I can help him sort through it."

He felt vulnerable. Even in his old reality, the only people who knew what had happened that night was Harry, himself, and Albus. He assumed Harry had never told any of his friends. Though he certainly would have had the right to do so, Severus knew from his own experience that children who are abused likely don't want the attention that speaking up against it would create. Peering over his desk to his colleague, the one person who probably knew him better than anyone else at this time, he started telling her about what happened and as expected, she listened without prejudice. He explained it all; filling in the gaps he'd left out when he'd told her about his old reality for the first time back in August, about the odd Occlumency attack, about the memories, and about the event that forever shifted his view of Harry from the Boy-Who-Lived to the boy who eventually became his son.

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry woke up still feeling completely exhausted and panting to catch his breath; his shirt covered, yet again, in sweat. In his current negative mindspace, he was sure there would never come a day when he wasn't haunted in his sleep one way or another. What would happen if he did manage to somehow live long enough to get married and he was still plagued with these horrific nightmares? Who was he kidding though, between the cancer and being a Horcrux for the most evil wizard of all, he wouldn't survive long enough to get married. Shaking his head to try to rid that thought from himself, he got up to face the day.

He ate breakfast in the dungeons; knowing that Snape would be upstairs in the Great Hall and he had no intentions on facing him that morning. Luckily, Professor McGonagall had said he didn't need to attend the practical exams for the end of term, so he wouldn't need to face the professor that morning either. In lieu of his defense class, Harry decided to bundle himself up - feeling a touch guilty as he put on his winter coat from Snape - and take a walk out on the grounds. Fresh air always helped him sort through a mess like this.

Harry was so lost in his mind, he didn't care that there was a light snow falling from the sky or that the cold air was whipping past his face. No matter how much he tried, he could not help thinking about the dream - no, the nightmare - he had last night. It was true, Sirius and his dad would have been extremely disappointed with him for how much his feelings for Snape had changed in such a short time frame. After seeing Snape's memory in his pensieve last year and the way Sirius and Snape interacted at Grimmauld Place, it was no secret how they'd viewed each other. It had been a hostile relationship, at best, and here he was living with the man his own family hated. But he wasn't the same Snape anymore. Harry felt the love he had for his son where he came from and all he knew was that right now, in this current reality, no one had felt that way for him.

So does it really matter? He challenged himself. So what if Snape lied about something that hadn't even happened in this lifetime?

In the process of mentally defending his situation against Sirius in his nightmare, Harry went from hating Snape for lying to him about how their relationship had changed, to not thinking it was a big deal that the man had wanted to hit him as an 11-year old. By the time he made it to the Black Lake, not even knowing that was where his legs were taking him, he'd run through the gamut of his emotions and it made him sick to his stomach just thinking about it all. He wasn't sure if his confusion was from being ashamed of himself for how quickly he trusted Snape here and thought of the man like a father, or because deep down he really wanted to simply forget about this completely and go back things as they had been.

His mind had been so focused on the situation inside of him, he didn't see the other student running towards him until they literally collided into one another.

"I'm so sorry," the Gryffindor said sheepishly, helping Luna Lovegood up from the ground. The Ravenclaw witch was also bundled up in her own winter gear - blue and silver instead of red and gold - with a pair of large colorful glasses covering her eyes making her appear a bit like a multicolored owl. "Erm… I wasn't paying attention."

"Oh, that's alright," Luna reassured him as if he hadn't just pummeled her onto the cold, wet ground, "I was just out looking for wrackspurts."

Harry had no idea what she was talking about, so he waited for her to continue explaining, except all she did was stare at him with the ridiculous glasses still on her face, her head turning in his confusion.

"Is that what… " gesturing to the glasses, he trailed off.

"Oh!" The blonde witch called out, excitedly, pulling off the glasses, "these are Spectrespecs! You need them to see the wrackspurts, you see."

Harry didn't quite believe her, but he wasn't going to question her on it either.

"So what brings you out here in the beautiful weather this morning?" She asked him, and they started to walk back towards the castle side-by-side.

Harry looked around at the ugly grey sky that was still spitting wet heavy snowflakes and the already snow covered ground that had been walked through so often yesterday that it had thick trails of brown mud streaked through it. There was nothing about that morning he would classify as beautiful, but looking to his right at Luna's serious, yet innocent face, he could just tell that while she saw the world differently, it didn't make it any less true.

"I needed room to think," the Gryffindor furrowed his eyebrows knowing that made absolutely no sense; no one really needed physical room when they had to think.

"When I have something big on my mind, I like to find someplace small to sit," she casually explained. "This way, I don't try to solve the whole thing at once. I can only work on what fits in my space, then I can let that part out and allow the next part in."

The thought of a small space - like his cupboard - made him shiver. There was no way he could be claustrophobic after living ten years in that thing, but that didn't mean he liked thinking back to those days. No, he needed room to let his thoughts out, let them rearrange into something he could comprehend a little easier. In a way, he and Luna might actually be talking about the same thing.

"But what always helps the most," she continued, "is talking about it with someone else."

The young wizard had heard that plenty of times before - from Snape, Healer Smithe, and Dr. Swanson - and he couldn't deny that his weekly chats with Snape had indeed helped him immensely.

"I learned something yesterday," Harry found himself saying to the girl next to him, "that something bad happened, eventually good came out of it, but someone I really trusted hid it. And I just don't know if I can continue trusting the person who lied to me about it… or more like, didn't tell me the whole truth about it."

Luna stared at him for a solid minute, her face completely blank as she thought - Harry guessed that was what she was doing - over what he'd told her. It really made no sense, but he couldn't tell her about Snape and his other reality, so it was the closest he could get.

"Sometimes parents keep things from us when they think we can't understand. They don't always realize that we're stronger than they think we are," the Ravenclaw finally said, completely astonishing Harry by the proclamation, "Professor Snape doesn't mean to hurt you, Harry. I can tell how much he cares about you and if he chose not to tell you something, I'm sure it was for a good reason."

His mouth fell open. She really was amazingly in tune with the things around her and Harry questioned if perhaps it was everyone else who had things wrong.

"How did you..."

"I can tell whatever is on your mind is deeply bothering you," Luna reached out her hand to hold his, "and the only person who would affect you this badly is Professor Snape. You've never grown up with parents, Harry, and therefore this is all new to you."

She didn't say that last sentence in a way that was sympathetic, like how everyone else sounded when they talked about him being an orphan; like he didn't already know and by saying it to him, it would somehow break whatever imaginary world he'd been living in. No, she said it in a matter-of-fact way that Harry very much appreciated.

"If you say good came from whatever it was that happened," Luna let go of his hand and gave him a soft smile, "then something good will come from this too."

She had this air of confidence around her that Harry just couldn't ignore. It was like somehow her confidence reached inside and helped to close the wound that had opened inside of him last night. Harry was so deep in thought of what Luna said, he hadn't noticed her start to skip off back into the castle. Suddenly, a thought popped into his head, and he questioned why he hadn't thought of this all along.

"Luna!" He called off, jogging until he caught up with her. "Do you want to go to Slughorn's Christmas Party with me?"

"That's so nice of you, Harry," Luna said, whimsically, "but I'm just not ready to date anyone right now."

For the first time since the horrible Occlumency lesson, Harry laughed. Only Luna could make a response like that sound so positive and uplifting.

"Me neither, Luna," he reassured the girl in front of him. "I'd like to take you as my friend. I think we'd have a good time together."

Luna's eyes relaxed, "Well, in that case, it's a wonderful idea."

And just like that he had a date to the Christmas party and had at least a start to sorting through the mess in his head.

As with breakfast, Harry chose to have lunch at home instead of the Great Hall. He knew Snape wouldn't worry over him not being there as long as he showed up by dinnertime and it would give him some extra time to think through everything before he saw his friends again at their Potion's practical right after lunch. The Gryffindor had spent the morning thinking about what Luna had told him and what he wanted to do about the situation, not what he thought he should do.

Yes, his nightmare had been horrific and he had no idea what Sirius or his parents would really think about the situation he found himself in with Snape, but the fact was that none of them were here with him today. It didn't make one difference what they would want if they couldn't be here to follow through. For whatever reason - he didn't want to go down the road of guilt over their deaths at that moment - they were all gone and he was here to sort through his life by himself. And as part of that process, he was able to determine two things: he liked where he was with Snape and he wanted to keep it. He wouldn't deny that it was awful that Snape almost hit him, which admittedly wasn't the most stable reason to change your views about a person, but in Harry's twisted lack-of-self-esteem mind, it somehow made sense. Snape wasn't going to just wake up one morning and decide he didn't hate Harry anymore, especially after what he had learned about the relationship between his parents and Snape. This left Harry with two choices; he could continue to hold it against the professor and leave all this behind or he could move forward, as his other self apparently did, and maybe end up somewhere good for once in his life.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus tried to keep his anger in check as he rapidly walked through the corridors back down to the dungeons, where hopefully Harry would be able to explain why he did not attend his Potion's exam this afternoon. Obviously the teen was still upset, but that did not excuse intentionally missing classes, especially when that specific class was his final exam. Not to mention, this was now the second time the Gryffindor had skipped class when he was angry and it was not a habit he wanted to endorse.

Without giving it another thought, the professor stormed into his quarters fully expecting to head to Harry's room, but was stopped short as he passed the sitting room. Laying across the sofa was Harry - dressed in his uniform, so he'd at least had intentions of going to class - fast asleep with Severus's old battered up copy of Advanced Potion Making laying open across his chest. The lavender book was slowly rising and falling in the same rhythm of Harry's steady breathing. He approached the sofa and kneeled down in front of the young wizard who, for once, looked so peaceful in his sleep. It was like he had left everything else behind in his complicated life, and Severus hated to have to wake him.

"Harry," he said quietly, placing his strong hand on Harry's still thin shoulder. "Harry, wake up."

Unlike the times he'd woken this child up from his nightmares, this time he opened his eyelids slowly, taking in the scene around him through his bright emerald eyes. The professor could tell the moment his brain remembered what had happened and the awful world he'd woken up to, when his eyebrows lowered into a frown.

"You missed your Potion's exam," Severus decided that topic was far more innocent than anything that sat between the two of them as of late.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head as he sat up, causing his textbook to fall to the floor, "I was just studying..."

Severus picked up the book, placing it back on the sofa beside Harry, "And apparently you'd fallen asleep. It's almost dinnertime."

Harry held his head in his hands, "No, no, no. I needed to be at that exam."

"Professor Slughorn is allowing you to make it up tomorrow with no penalty," the professor explained what Minerva had told him. "Dare I say, you've now got good cause for going to his party on Friday."

He hadn't been trying to do so, but that statement lightened the air between them drastically. Harry gave a small smile and nodded in agreement that he would both be taking the make-up exam as well as go to the party. But as with all good things, the light air didn't last and before either wizard was ready, a cold, thick silence fell upon them.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, so quietly and suddenly the professor almost had to strain his ears to hear him.

"You haven't anything to apologize for," he said confidently, already knowing the apology was not for missing his exam. "I should have explained the circumstances behind the cause of my sudden change of heart towards you in my old reality. There were plenty of chances for me to do so, but I was too afraid of losing you here as well."

There it was, he'd said the words he'd been dancing around all day. Harry's head lifted to meet Severus's eyes. For the first time, the professor was relieved to be able to read all of Harry's emotions on his face. The Gryffindor was not angry, nor was sad, he had a look of acceptance which could go either way, but Severus took it as a good emotion for them right now.

"I didn't care, did I?"

Again, they both knew exactly what he was referring to, and Severus was going to take this opportunity to explain as much as Harry would allow, "Unfortunately, no you did not. When I left that hallway I wished you had cared; I wished you had enough self respect to go directly to the headmaster's office and tell him what had happened. I wished that you had not had enough reasons to accept the idea that a professor in your school would hit you for doing seemingly nothing at all.

"Instead, it was I who went to the headmaster's office and told him what I almost did... that I had lost control. All the way up until the day I left that reality for this one, he never told me why he did not fire me on the spot when I more than deserved it. That night I told him my suspicion that you were not... unfamiliar with this kind of abuse and that you could not go back to Petunia's care. It was a point of conflict between us the rest of the year, as I've previously said, until I told him I'd take you myself."

Harry hung his head, this time in what Severus took as disappointment, at least until the wizard spoke again, "I looked happy... In the Christmas tree memory."

The pain in Harry's voice tore through him and it was with his own heavy heart that Severus replied, "We were happy, Harry. In your own words - it was small, but we were a family."

"Is it sad that I wish I had that? I wish those were my memories I saw and not just yours?" he softly asked.

"I want to give that to you, Harry," Severus said, standing up to sit besides the young wizard on the sofa, his knees sore from kneeling on the stone floor, "if you'll let me. Things won't always be perfect, as I'm sure you've already seen I won't always be perfect, but I will do everything I can to protect you, to guide you, and to care for you."

Harry frowned with a single thought weighing heavy on his mind, "I'm not him, though."

"No, you are not him," Severus thoughtfully and confidently said, "My son died of Leukemia on the 16th of May, 1997, but I'm getting the chance to know you just as you are now; as someone who I happen to care about just as much."

He could see Harry thinking hard about everything they'd just said. On the one hand he hoped Harry would be able to forgive him for the actions in his previous reality as well as his omission of the truth here, but at the same time what did that say about Harry's expectations of those around him, as well as his own sense of self-respect?

"I want that too, Severus," Harry said after what felt like an eternity.

Severus didn't try to hide his smile and relief. Things would work out between them in the end, and just in time to celebrate their first Christmas holiday together.

~~~~HP~~~~

For some reason Harry didn't know why he didn't foresee the fact that his dress robes wouldn't fit from the Yule Ball two years ago. If he needed new school robes this year because he'd managed to grow taller just from the start of the fifth year, he absolutely wouldn't fit in something from even a year earlier. Luckily - and not so surprisingly, as the man had previously stated that the little details are things he's always looking at - Snape had anticipated this issue and when he woke up Friday morning, the last day of term and the day of Slughorn's party, there hanging in front of his wardrobe was a new set of black dress robes.

He was now showered, dressed, and ready to go; if only his legs would listen to him and walk out of his bedroom door. Luna was meeting him outside of Slughorn's office, where the party was being held, so he couldn't really stall any longer otherwise he would end up leaving her sitting there waiting for him. They may not be going as a couple, and knowing Luna she might not even notice, but he couldn't leave her there waiting for him.

"You look nice," Snape said from his armchair in the sitting room when Harry finally emerged from his bedroom dressed for the night.

"Thank you," The Gryffindor immediately flushed, "For the dress robes too."

It looked as if the professor wanted to say something to that, but chose not to at the last minute. Instead, Harry sat down on the sofa already wanting to leave the party and it hadn't even started yet.

"Are you sure I can't bail out?" He asked, hopefully.

Snape placed his reading down - one that appeared to be for enjoyment and not for research - then gave Harry an amused look without uttering a single word.

"Fine," Harry conceded, standing up again feeling awkward about what to do next. Was he supposed to tell Snape when he'd be home? No one else there tonight would have this issue. "Erm… guess I'll see you later?"

It was lame, but effective so he didn't think anymore about it.

"Have fun," Snape said, picking his journal back up to continue reading. It was an odd exchange that had Harry thinking about it long after he'd left and was making his way to Slughorn's office.

The party had barely started, and Harry was already looking towards the exit. Or where he thought the exit was anyway. It was hidden beneath one of the many water-falling drapes hanging superfluously from the room's ceiling, making him feel trapped. The ambiance reeked of lavish redundancy, from the glittery gilded chandelier attracting faeries in its orbit to the dizzying parade of posh finger foods whizzing between party goers, the elves holding the platters expertly weaving in and out of legs. It was definitely something he had no experience being at and it made him feel extremely out of place.

This wasn't anything like the Yule Ball; the only other formal occasion he'd attended. There wasn't an electrifying undercurrent stringing the guests together, all eager for the chance to dress in their formal attire, swarm the dance floors, and enjoy the fervor of their youth long into the night. No, Slughorn's party brought with it a stuffy aroma that would be appreciated by guests twice or thrice their age. It was a revelry for the elite and affluent, not a gathering for students, and that became obvious the moment Harry - with Luna, who was beautifully and a bit eccentrically, dressed for the night - was paraded around from one elitist to the next. Slughorn sounded like he had an agenda and Harry was dead set on steering clear away from whatever that was.

"How long are you going to be hiding over here? The whole night?"

Harry almost dropped his drink at the familiar voice, recovering in time to see a wash of wispy platinum blonde hair atop a lithe figure smartly dressed in black. "What? I wasn't… I wasn't hiding…" The Gryffindor looked away from Draco, not liking the arched slender brow that saw right through him. "I was just waiting for… my date to finish her conversations."

He thought the Slytherin would accept the excuse, or at least take pity on him and leave him in his misery alone. But he wasn't so lucky. Where Harry felt self-conscious and stilted in his new robes that poured around his still fragile, thin body, the Slytherin thrived in the stiff atmosphere. Harry imagined the Malfoy heir grew up attending parties just like this one in his extravagant Manor. Immaculately designed robes flowed with the blonde's body, looking natural and fitting for the other teen. He moved with shunning gravitas that only made Harry feel more awkward and nervous, as if standing beside the well-mannered Pureblood would draw attention to his own feeble body.

Harry motioned to Luna across the room, who was chatting in a circle of girls with Hermione at the center. What else would Draco want him to do while the girls did… whatever it was they were doing?

"You're waiting for Luna to finish her conversation?" Draco repeated, and somehow Harry knew this wasn't going to end well for him.

"Yes, I'm being polite."

"You're being antisocial."

"No, I'm not, I- I just-," Harry's mouth hung open, left wanting for words. He sighed as Draco shook his head and put his arm around Harry's shoulder.

"Look there, you see Hermione?" Draco asked.

Harry didn't answer. Of course he saw Hermione showing off her new rose gold charm bracelet. It was one of finest pieces of jewelry Harry had ever seen, but he'd never admit that to Draco. The young heir set to inherit a fortune had taken Harry's gift idea and purchased what he considered to be a modest present. Harry wondered how Draco defined modesty as he glanced at the polished silver cuff-link bound to the pristine tailored sleeve resting on his shoulder. Prior to the Yule Ball, Harry had never owned robes worthy of a black tie affair. Draco, however, probably never wore the same robes twice for a party. The designer robes would never be washed, folded, nor wrinkled. They would be perfectly preserved in Draco's wardrobe along with the other dozens of robes that were deemed obsolete fashion. Harry felt himself start to sweat and his face flush. He was thankful for the dim light in the room to hide his shame. What would Draco - or any of the influential witches and wizards in attendance tonight - think if they knew that until this year, Harry hadn't even had a set of non-school clothes that properly fit him?

"They're talking about me, even when I'm not there," Draco began, drawing Harry's attention back to the subject at hand. "See, the bracelet was my gift to her. I get the limelight without having to say a word. Get it?"

"No," Harry shook his head; that made absolutely no sense to him.

Draco winced, "Look, they'll remember the bracelet, and that I gave it to her, so when they think of the party, they'll think of me," the blonde looked wide eyed, filled with self satisfaction. "Brilliant, if I do say so."

Draco reminded Harry of a vacuum salesman who visited his relatives house once. The peddler pitched the vacuum, and all the work it would save Aunt Petunia - because who would think it would be primarily used by the small eight year old living there - as if it were the key to achieving one's life long dreams. Draco watched the girls with a keen grin, and Harry wondered if an hour was long enough of an appearance to justify leaving.

"I know what you need," Draco snapped his fingers and ushered Harry deeper into the corner of the room. "A little liquid courage ought to do the trick, yeah?" The blonde reached into his robe and pulled out a small flask of whiskey, which he gave a playful little shake.

"I don't think that's a good idea…" Harry looked nervously over his shoulder, suddenly feeling as if the entire world was witnessing their transgressions and rule breaking. And while his nerves were without merit – no one paid attention to the teens lingering on the party's perimeter – he did spot a familiar mop of greasy black hair between the sheer drapes, lost in the crowd on the opposite side of the room.

There's no way that Snape would be here. He would have at least told me that.

The blonde pulled a face. "You of all people, can't tell me you always follow the rules. It'll be fine." A little splash of the amber liquid plopped into Harry's drink, while he favored a much more liberal serving for himself. The nondescript flask corked and stowed back in his robes, Draco quickly clinked the rim of his glass against Harry's. "Happy Christmas to us, mate. Cheers."

It was one of the strangest encounters Harry had ever had with the Slytherin, and given their complicated history, that was saying a lot. As he watched the other teen keenly indulge in the illicit cocktail without a single hesitation of remorse, Harry idly turned his own drink in his hand, trying to buy himself time. "I don't know if this is smart with all of my…" His emerald eyes darted back across the room, ignoring the laughing party goers and small groups that had naturally formed. For a brief moment, he breathed easier at not spotting Snape – what was he doing there, anyways? – and began to lift the glass to meet his lips. Maybe Draco was right. There was something freeing about the entire situation, something so normal about it that he could be attracted to breaking the rules at least once this year; by his own calculation, he was a little behind any of his previous years in that endeavor.

For the first time, in a long time, he wasn't idly watching his friends enjoy their coming-of-age rituals of dating and going to classes and living life. For once, he wasn't watching the world spin while he was forced to stay stationery. He was at the core of the activity, a participant and not just a spectator. It felt devious and wrong, and yet so right at the same time.

That thought froze as fast as Harry's glass did when he saw Snape leaning in towards Slughorn to whisper something to him. Their eyes met – emerald finding onyx – only for a second, but a second was all that was needed. Recognition flashed across the potion master's face and he stepped away from Slughorn, in the teens' direction.

"Draco!" Harry turned sharply to the other boy, who had drained his first glass and suavely snatched another drink off a passing elf's silver platter. Turning his body slightly away from the party, the Slytherin slipped a hand back into his robes to fetch out the rebellious flask of booze. Harry grabbed for him. "No! Draco! Stop!"

But the blonde didn't see Snape zigzagging his way between students, careful not to step on formal robes and dresses, but his destination no less questionable.

"Relax!" Draco retorted, drawing back a bit to dodge the Gryffindor's reach. "Well, you would be relaxed if you'd have your bloody drink. This is good stuff, too. Bushmills from the seventeenth century!"

Harry didn't care if it was from the turn of the millennium or when Ollivanders established his shop in Diagon Alley in 382 BC. A sudden surge of panic coursing through him, Harry practically threw himself at the young Slytherin as he saw Snape getting closer. Harry had the element of surprise on his side, but that was only as good as the follow up that came after, and in the Gryffindor's dilapidated state, he didn't stand a chance in a physical grapple.

The two wrestled for the flask for a few painful seconds before Draco abruptly jerked his body to the side in an effort to thwart off the other teen. It was a move done on pure reflex, and not one of sound logic. Draco had jerked towards the party. Towards Snape. The flask flung out from his hands, much to both boys' horror, the blonde's own damning momentum turned against him.

The flask seemed to move in slow motion as it spun across the floor with a mind of its own, the teens staring in awed dread. Draco was the first to dive after it, perhaps sensing the direness of the situation, and hoping to remedy it before anything ill could come about.

And while Draco might've thought himself successful as he quickly bent down with all the grace of a Seeker, collecting the flask in one fell swoop, Harry saw the impending train wreck. Snape stopped directly in front of his Slytherin, clearly having seen the offending little flask, and looked conspiringly between Harry and Draco, making the connection in his head. Harry thought he saw a flicker of déjà vu in the professor's eyes, but a moment later the darkness returned.

The stare that Snape lingered on Harry made his insides squirm, but luckily it only lasted a few seconds before the ire was directed down at the blonde. "Hand that over. Now."

"Wow. Bottles of firewhiskey falling from the canopy," Draco began in a melodramatic, over the top tone that would've made Harry roll his eyes if he wasn't staring at Snape's tense face. The blonde continued with a disapproving shake of his head, pale hair sweeping across his forehead. "Great idea for party favors, but hardly appropriate around students. Someone should talk to him about that, honestly."

Harry had always wondered what the Basilisk's stare would have been like. He imagined cold, dark, transfixing eyes, and a gaze so mesmerizing that time seemed to stop as the life force was sucked from the body. Sounds and colors would fade underneath the scrutiny of those eyes. It was quite merciful really, compared to Snape's current expression.

"Mr. Malfoy, how curious it is, that you do so well in class when you have the judgement of a child." It was not a question. A hand emerged from Snape's flowing black robes and Harry watched, as Draco hesitated, but relinquished his flask. The Gryffindor quickly deposited his own glass on a passing elf's tray, eager to get rid of his own evidence. Meanwhile, Severus popped the top off the flask and smelled the contents, as if to further embarrass the teens that it was not, indeed, pumpkin juice. A thin smile spread across his lips. It was a polite gesture, a courtesy to Slughorn, to mask his rage from spoiling the party.

Harry took half a step back, and Snape's head turned instantly towards him, "Come with me. Now."

The former spy turned and seemed to glide towards the door. Harry shared one final glance with Draco before both boys hurried after their professor, knowing if they delayed it would only make whatever their punishment was, worse.

As Harry walked down through the extravagant room - trying, unsuccessfully to catch Luna's attention to hopefully let her know he'd be back soon - he followed Snape as they exited Slughorn's office and into the dark empty corridor. After living six years in the magical world, he was still amazed with what magic could do; such as change a room from a drab, cold office into the warm, lively space he'd just left. If he made it out of this alive, he was determined to enjoy the rest of the night dancing with Luna or doing whatever else it was that his classmates were doing to have a good time.

Both students were lined up against the stone wall and a quick glance over at Draco showed the other teen was not nearly as frightened as Harry felt inside. Professor McGonagall - and Uncle Vernon, in a very different way - had given him plenty of angry lectures, but he'd not had the heavy feeling of guilt and disappointment fill him up inside during either of those.

"What were you thinking?" The man in front of them asked in a much calmer voice than Harry anticipated given what he'd just found. "Did you want to get expelled? Forget about your education, do either of you know what that would mean for your personal safety?"

"No, sir," Harry replied more to the first question than the second. If the situation had been different, he would have found the parallel between Snape's statement and Hermione's first year, after their encounter with Fluffy, extremely humorous. Naturally, he didn't think Snape would find it as funny given their current circumstances.

"First," Snape turned to Harry and the Gryffindor noticed his obsidian eyes were not filled with nearly as much rage as he'd expected, "do you happen to know if alcohol will interact with any of your plentiful medications?"

He'd actually thought of that, however this wasn't exactly the time to mention it. Stating that fact would only make it look like he'd ignored the idea completely, which was counterproductive. Instead, he averted his glance away from the professor.

"I know you didn't want to come to this, Harry," the older wizard continued, "but I'd like you to think about the people here and the image this-" he held up the flask "- gives them of you."

"I'm sorry, sir," and he truly was. He had hard enough time getting people to see him for who he was and not the Boy-Who-Lived or The Chosen One and this didn't help him out at all.

"Go back to the party," Snape eventually said, "we'll finish this when you get back home."

The Gryffindor gave Draco an apologetic look; he'd really only been trying to help the blonde.

Walking back towards Slughorn's office - silently hoping he could slip back in unnoticed - he thought he should check if Draco needed him to relay a message to Hermione. After contemplating the idea for almost a minute, he decided to turn around and ask.

"-have any idea how much danger she puts you in!" He heard Snape say in a low, threatening voice just before he turned the corner into view. Harry stopped in his tracks, listening in, even though he knew he shouldn't. "You're playing with fire, Draco, and that was before you pulled this little stunt tonight!"

Snape was releasing all the anger Harry had seen in him, but hadn't experienced. It wasn't fair to Draco. Yes, he'd brought the flask and had clearly been drinking from it earlier in the evening, but weren't teenagers supposed to make mistakes sometimes?

But not us.

"Between him and my father, my Christmas is already going to be horrid," he heard Draco aggressively reply, "just wanted to have a good time."

"You need to stay focused," the former spy reiterated, "you've been far too distracted lately and one of these days that distraction will be the end of you."

Harry tried to think about what distraction he was talking about, and could only up with Hermione.

"-people talk," Harry listened back unsure what he'd missed, "and if you think your interest in certain individuals won't get back into the wrong hands you're in for a rough reality check."

"I can handle it myself," Draco spat, "I don't need your help on every little thing. At this point, I think I've managed to prove myself and my worth."

"To whom?" Snape sounded tired and not just from the conversation he'd been having. "If you think for a moment that you're not disposable to him, you're making a fatal mistake."

There was a long pause with murmurs that Harry couldn't quite hear.

"You have what you need?" He finally heard Snape asl, a little louder giving Harry the impression they'd moved closer to him.

"Yes, sir," the newest spy responded a little stiffly. "I know what I'm doing."

"Good. Then I expect a full report first thing at the start of term."

At the definite sound of footsteps coming closer to him, Harry hid into an alcove. Sure enough, both Slytherins passed right by him, neither one noticing him hiding in the shadows. It was a testament to how distracted they were, but Harry wasn't about to point that out.

"And Draco? Take this." The professor called before the other teen was sucked back in through massive drapes covering the entrance. Harry couldn't tell what the professor had given Draco. "If you need me over the holiday, use that to contact me as I will not be in the castle, nor will I be available by floo."

What?!

Where was Snape going over the holiday? And where would he be staying if not with the professor? Harry furrowed his brows with a frown trying to playback the odd conversation and hoping he'd heard it wrong. Completely in a trance, the young wizard walked back into the party, completely unaware of the loud music greeting him.

"There you are," Luna said, walking up to him with Hermione and Draco arm-in-arm right behind her, "I was following another boy around who looked identical to you for a while there. Then I realized he didn't have any glasses, but he was a lovely dancer."

There was something about the Ravenclaw's pure innocence that lifted his mood. He peered beyond Luna, catching Hermione's eye and she simply shrugged her shoulders, apparently just as confused as he was with his date's statement.

"No, I'm still here," Harry replied, then allowed himself to get pulled back into the room.

The rest of the night was filled with dancing - to which Luna was surprisingly very good at - and eating foods Harry had very little knowledge of what they were, but he'd tried as many as he could. By the end, Harry found he actually had a great time. It wasn't until after he had walked Luna back to the Ravenclaw portrait and was heading back to the dungeons, that he started to sort through what he'd overheard between Snape and Draco. Regardless of how much he wanted to interpret it differently, Snape was going to be leaving him over the Christmas holiday and Harry found himself extremely saddened by that fact.