Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

The Halloween Ball

~~~~HP~~~~

Friday, 31st October 1997

"You're looking a bit grumpy this morning," Harry announced as he plopped himself down at the breakfast table, then served himself a modest plate of scrambled eggs, vanilla yoghurt with granola and mixed fruit, alongside his glass of water with the small cup containing his morning tablets, taking a peek inside to identify all of them. Throughout the week, he noticed the circles under his mentor's eyes grow darker with each passing day, and now if he had to guess, he'd say the man hardly slept the previous night.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Harry winced as the question left his lips unexpectedly.

In response, Snape rapidly folded the copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands down in half, then glared at the young wizard - raising a single, black eyebrow as his gaze shifted to Harry's measly plate of food. Nervously, Harry averted his emerald eyes off of Snape, took his tablets, and then a small bite of egg.

"I am the adult and you are the child, remember? Therefore, my sleeping habits are hardly any of your concern," the professor admonished, lifting the paper back up to continue his reading. "And to be quite honest, your exuberance surrounding this particular holiday has always left me more than a little perplexed."

Hardy frowned thinking through what Snape had said, or rather, what he implied between his words. "Oh," the smile fell off the young wizard's face once he picked up on the meaning. Swallowing hard he gently asked, "You mean because of my mum, right? It's the day she died?"

Black eyes peered over the top of the paper. "Yes, that is correct. I've never felt the urge to celebrate getting my best friend killed."

"You technically didn't get her killed," Harry tried to reason. "She was given the choice-"

The sudden slamming of the paper down onto the top of the table scared Harry so much he jumped up and the vibrations running across the table made his glass of water teeter precariously back and forth. His eyes widened at the angry face of his mentor getting closer to him as Snape leaned menacingly over the table.

"She had no choice!" He growled so closely the heat of his breath danced on Harry's nose. "Your mother would never have stepped aside to allow her child to be killed and the fact that I…" he paused, and sat back down on his chair. The pain flowing from Snape's face tore through Harry's gut, leaving him swimming in guilt. His guilt intensified when Snape next spoke and his voice cracked, trying to hold in his grief, "Let's just say I hate this supposed holiday."

This time, the professor didn't go back to pretending to read the paper. Instead he sat with his head cradled in his hands, completely silent. Harry watched him for almost a solid minute, hoping he'd find something to say to ease the tension between them. Coming up empty, he stirred his yoghurt in with the berries on his plate, lifted the spoon to his lips, but then dropped it back down with a clang.

"I didn't know the day she died, y'know," the young wizard defended himself. "At least not until I started school here and read about it… so sometimes it's hard for me to remember what the day means and when I do I feel… bad… that I forgot about them in the first place."

Dramatically, Snape dropped his hands to the table and peered over the small table, staring at Harry - his stare practically burning through him - as if they just met or the Gryffindor were a complicated puzzle to solve. "Sometimes I forget you're not him," Snape said barely above a whisper, "and specific conversations I had with your counterpart we did not have here."

To Harry, the statement made little sense, but he didn't question it. Desperate for something to alleviate his own awkward discomfort, Harry glanced back down at the paper laying on the table.

"Why has she made the papers so much?" Harry nodded his head down at the upturned article. Without much else to do locked away in the dungeons, the Gryffindor followed the story of the body found in the cave as more details unfolded throughout the week. "She was a muggle and from France so why do we care?"

Snape's gaze shifted up to meet Harry's. Pulling the paper closer to him, the professor sighed in a way that confused Harry - and if the Gryffindor had not already caused so much trouble he likely would have asked about it - then said, "It's the cave they're so interested in."

"The 'occult rituals'?" Harry used air quotes to denote his remembrance of the term the first Prophet article used. "I thought they said she only had one magical family member. A…"

"Cousin," Snape offered when Harry trailed off in thought, unable to recall what he'd read about the missing woman's family only two days ago.

"Yeah, that's right… from Beauxbaton," Harry shook his head clear, "and there wasn't any evidence of that stuff in her family history."

Guarded. If asked how the professor acted when discussing the topic, Harry would say he appeared guarded with his words, and Harry's curiosity definitely didn't help. No one else would probably notice the subtle change in Snape's demeanour, but after living with the man for over a year now, Harry easily picked up these small idiosyncrasies; and at that moment, his instincts told him the cave was important.

"Regardless of her personal magical history," Snape pinched his eyes closed, "the location itself has been known to bring some rather... eclectic... groups to the site and therefore the Ministry does not wish to leave any stone unturned. Quite literally in this case."

"Did Voldemort use the cave?" Harry instantly regretted bringing up the subject, and hastily added, "I'm sor-"

"Yes," Severus sternly interjected, "he periodically used the site for his various summons and activities. The secluded locale and depth of the cave provided protection from anyone wandering in, and its flat surface allowed us to navigate - typically with a flailing body in and a dead one out - safely. Voldemort was no fool. He knew very well his followers were his biggest asset and made sure to toe the line between making us fear him and respect him all the same."

"That's…" Harry struggled to find the right word, but when it came to him it felt right to admit, "well… it's terrifying, sir."

Snape placed his palms on the table and gingerly pushed himself up. "You have no idea," he sullenly responded. The professor pulled out his ebony wand and waved it over Harry's plate, instantly reheating the contents, "I have to get to class, but will be back for lunch. What do you have going on today?"

Harry's face blanched. "Erm… I have some reading and an essay to finish for Foundations. Then I think I'm going to pack my day bag for chemo tomorrow just in case I'm out… late… tonight. But I don't really have much else planned. With everyone getting ready for the dance tonight, I don't think anyone will be stopping by between classes, so I'm expecting it to be a bit boring actually."

"I want you to rest," the other wizard said in a voice filled with kindness for the first time since Harry joined him at breakfast. "The last thing you need is to have to delay tomorrow's treatment because you pushed yourself too hard today."

As if Harry didn't already know that. He'd been purposefully not looking at the calendar hanging in the kitchen near his medication cupboard outlining his treatment schedule. Tomorrow's IV would be the last actual treatment of his "intensive phase" which was followed by four days of tablet steroids. Then he had the longest three days of his life as he waited to go back to the hospital on the night of 7 November to start cycle B on the morning of the 8th. If Harry had flipped the calendar over to the next month, he would see a star on the 7th marking when he'd get another bone marrow test to see if he officially reached his second remission. No matter how much he told himself he couldn't personally influence those results, what Snape said rang true: he needed to keep himself healthy in order to prevent any delays; that was something in his control.

"Yes, sir," the Gryffindor formally agreed. "And I think I'll wear the mask tonight…just in case. Maybe I'll spend the day drawing something wicked on it for Halloween."

"That's a very mature idea," Snape told him. The pride emanating from the professor made Harry smile, at least until he pointed at Harry's barely touched plate and demanded, "Finish your breakfast, you didn't eat nearly enough of it to be done already."

The young wizard didn't even pretend to be fine with the reminder, and instead stuck his tongue out the moment Snape turned around to exit the kitchen.

So much for being mature.


"No, no, no," Harry pleaded helplessly to his reflection in the mirror, knowing nothing he said would change the horrible turn of events. He screwed up, at the least ideal time, and no matter how many different ways he looked at it, it wasn't fixable. Out of pure frustration, clouding any of his already lacking common sense, the young wizard slammed his right palm down onto the hard countertop of the lavatory vanity, yelling in pain at the throbbing radiating through it. "Fuck!"

The loud knock on the door less than five seconds later didn't come as a shock, nor did Snape's slightly frantic voice calling to him on the other side. "Harry? Is everything alright in there?"

The young wizard leaned against the counter, careful not to put too much pressure on his newly sore palm, and lifted his head to take a closer glimpse at the reflection gaping back at him, hardly recognizing himself.

No, everything was not alright.

In the right atmosphere - and a crowded, decorated, dimly illuminated Great Hall certainly qualified - his thin, pallid face and hollow cheeks appeared almost intentional. If he approached his friends like he'd been aiming for a vampire costume, they might not have noticed the difference. In fact, he'd virtually convinced himself of that until his emerald eyes shifted up to his hairline; specifically, the rather large section on the right now missing a large section and close to being completely barren.

As the week progressed, Harry closely watched the level at which his hair fell out each day. What started as a small tuft remaining on his pillow every time he woke up, a few strains running down his back in the shower tickling him on their journey to the drain, and an ever-growing bundle in his hairbrush, reached the point to where if he so much as ran his fingers lightly through it, he came back with more than a handful of whisps. So in an effort to make it to Halloween without any noticeable spots - allowing him to enjoy this one last event with his friends before he'd inevitably decide to shave it all off - he took extra care when brushing and washing it. Things were going relatively well, too, in that the thinning spaces were pretty evenly dispersed… at least until his shower when he got distracted thinking about his upcoming treatment and pulled a little too hard on the right side of his head. To add insult to injury, since his hair falling out didn't physically hurt him, he didn't immediately notice the missing section. Now, mere hours until the dance, he was left with no other option than to shave it or risk going to the Ball with a large portion of his hair noticeably absent.

"Erm…" Harry stalled his answer to Snape while he swiftly examined his palm for any sign of bruising - thankfully none appeared - and then back at his reflection and the missing hair. "Yeah, I'm fine," he lied, cringing at his choice of adjective. Knowing Snape would be overanalyzing its use, he immediately added, "Really, it's nothing… I'll be out in a minute."

Not satisfied with the lack of noise coming out of the corridor, the young wizard leaned over and placed his ear to the door trying to determine if the professor left. A small tapping at the bottom of the door - likely the toe of the professor's boot rapping against the stone floor - gave away Snape's continued presence and general skepticism over Harry's response.

"If you're not out in five minutes, I'll be coming in to check on you," the stoic voice announced through the wooden door.

"Five minutes..." Harry nervously replied, peering down at the grey towel still wrapped around his waist then to the muggle scissor and razor on the side of the sink, "give me ten?"

Silence followed and Harry threw his arms in the air assuming the professor already walked back to his own bedroom to get himself ready for the evening, ignoring Harry's request.

"Ten minutes," the professor warned. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

"I'm-" Harry started, listening to the footsteps receding down the corridor, then whispered, "-fine."

I am definitely not fine.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus hated Halloween.

As a small child, before starting at Hogwarts, he never enjoyed the holiday to the same level as the other kids in his neighbourhood. The Mill may have held an annual All Hollow's Eve party for their employees and their families, but the Snapes never attended, meaning every year Severus sat through his classes at his muggle primary school and listened to the kids boisterously go on and on about the night - who wore the best costumes, the best food, and most fun games. Similar to the other homes on Spinner's End, the Snape House never had any decorations: no pumpkins, jack-o'-lantern, scarecrows, or corn stalks, and definitely nothing dark to remind his father of the two people in his domain who had real magic. Unlike the other kids on Spinner's End, though, Severus did not enjoy walking over the bridge, to the side where the Evans's lived, just to see the elaborately decorated row homes; a clear symbol of the economical difference between the two sides of their river. He simply went about his day as if all of October, leading up to Halloween, were the same as any other day of the year.

When he came to Hogwarts, regardless of the importance of the holiday to the magical world, not much changed in regards to his feelings towards it. They never had a ball like the one the professor was currently preparing for, but the feast had always been grand and most students would shift seamlessly from the Great Hall festivities to their respective Common Room parties. For Severus, the holiday gave him a good excuse to cross the assumed divide between Slytherin and Gryffindor to sit with Lily, before retiring to his dorm earlier than any other Slytherin. Now as an adult, his already grim view of Halloween was forever tainted by Lily's death, or more specifically his active role in it. Harry might be willing to forgive him, and knowing Lily she probably would have told him to stop blaming himself already, but he used the day to remember his friend and to remind himself of the importance of the choices he made during his life.

Being a member of the Hogwarts staff, and a Head of House required Severus to attend all of the school's functions and feasts, including Halloween. When the blasted holiday fell on a weekday, he convinced himself the decorations and upgraded food options meant nothing to him. The weekends, though, practically killed him. Those days allowed him to sit and sulk in his own misery, unable to find relief in potion or drink because of his duty to attend the late-night festivities, counting down the hours until he could pass out in his bed. All of that changed, however, when Harry first came into his care in his old reality. The young wizard had only recently discovered his parents were murdered on such a sacred magical day - the same day the rest of wizarding Britain celebrated Voldemort's demise - and their first holiday spent together, a Saturday no less, found Harry mirroring Severus's dreary mood. When questioned about his lack of enthusiasm for a typically exuberant occasion, his Harry explained the same thing this Harry did over breakfast: he grew up not knowing the day his parents died, but now he thought he should mourn it the same as Severus.

Despite his feelings of Halloween back in his old reality, as Severus stood in front of the mirror in his lavatory, wearing his typical black robes, he wondered if it made him a bad person to wish Harry felt under the weather in order to avoid attending the Halloween Ball. The Gryffindor's loud curse, followed by his pathetic attempt to cover up whatever he had going on in the lavatory, certainly left him concerned, and the fleeting hope of a potential built-in excuse to get out of the event altogether left him feeling disappointed in himself.

Lost in his negativity, Severus barely caught sight of the slip of parchment, with Luna Lovegood written on it, popping up in front between his face and his reflection. It fluttered down into the sink basin due to his missed attempt to grab at it, a split second before he heard the knock at the front door.

Harry didn't mention anything about a date, he thought curiously to himself.

The implication of the Gryffindor feeling uncomfortable in discussing his own life shouldn't have bothered him. In fact, he should have been ecstatic the teen made plans to attend the dance with a date. A louder knock, followed by a second scrap of parchment, cleared Severus's thoughts and taking one more glimpse in the mirror - deeming himself acceptably ordinary for the night's events - he stalked down the corridor to answer the door.

"Stop the incessant knocking," Severus angrily called out when the door finally came into view. Throwing it open, he continued his tirade, unaware of the Ravenclaw's lack of concern over the irritation she'd caused. "One should assume if their beckoning goes unanswered, that means the recipient is likely not present or otherwise unavailable."

Luna turned her head inquisitively. "But you did answer Professor-" she argued as if her reasoning were obvious, "therefore are you not both present and available?"

Gritting his teeth, Severus closed his eyes hoping to conjure some kind of patience to make it through the conversation, and the night in general. Chaperoning the Yule Ball had been plenty difficult enough, to add tricks and costumes on top of it would take all the resolve he had left.

"Come in," he growled and stepped aside to allow Harry's mysterious date into their home. In true Luna fashion, the young witch bounced into his quarters like she owned the place.

Gesturing to the sitting room he added, "I don't think Harry's quite ready yet, but I'll go check in on him for you."

"Thank you, Professor," her whimsical voice sounded out of place in the normally cold, loud space, "I'll just sit here and wait here for him."

"Make yourself at home," he muttered, taking the extremely familiar walk to the Gryffindor's bedroom, but just as he lifted his hand to knock, he noticed the attached lavatory door still closed and the soft strip of light pouring out from beneath it. Changing tactics, he moved down to the next door and knocked.

"Harry?" He announced when his knock went unanswered. Trying to keep his panic at bay, he asked, "Are you alright?"

Still, the young wizard didn't answer, prompting Severus to knock again; louder this time.

"Harry," he clamoured, almost frantically, "Miss Lovegood is-"

"M'fine," Harry's muffled voice eventually answered, coming out of an area closer to the bedroom side of the ensuite. "I'll be out in a… wait a second… did you say Luna's here?"

Moving back to Harry's bedroom door, Severus considered walking into the room uninvited to cease the need of shouting through the wooden slab between them. Seeing as the young wizard was physically well - the Wizengamot still out determining his recent mental state - he decided Harry's right to privacy superseded that of his own anxieties. "Yes, you heard me correctly."

A pregnant pause, followed by a hard clunk coming from the bedroom almost caused the professor to race through the door, privacy be damned.

"Why?!"

The pure curiosity laced within Harry's voice piqued Severus's interest. So they hadn't planned on attending the dance together?

"I assume she wants to attend the ball with you. Shall I send her away?"

"N-no… no," the young wizard's hurried answer preceded two more clunks and a muttered curse. Severus gently placed his hand on the brass knob just as Harry added, "Tell her I'll be right out. I have to… brush… my teeth."

Narrowing his eyes at the door, he contemplated his next move. Warily, he retracted his hand from its position. "Please do not keep her waiting."

The laugh he heard as a response told him Harry understood the words he hadn't said: Please don't leave me alone with her too long or you'll be scrubbing floors for the foreseeable future.

Back in the sitting room, Severus sat down in his favourite armchair and pulled open an old potions journal on the sitting room table. Feigning interest in an article on adjusting the ratio of Bat Wings to Wormwood in order to create different variants of the Armadillo Bile Mixture, the professor stealthily watched the sixth year witch out of the corner of his eye. Never one to appear uncomfortable in any situation, Luna Lovegood studied the room around her, taking in the towering bookcases on her right, the few pictures he had displayed upon the fireplace mantle - a pathetic attempt to rebuild some sense of his old world - and the intricate rug placed beneath her feet.

"You have a very nice home, Professor," she broke the awkward silence, although he could confidently assume she felt no awkwardness within it. The Lovegoods were a rare brand of human where his patience of silence wouldn't find them eager to fill the void. "I can see why Harry likes living here."

Flipping down the journal in much the same manner as he did the paper with Harry over breakfast, he glared at his uninvited guest.

"Harry should only be another minute," Severus stated matter-of-factly and went to pull up the journal to continue to ignore his student, but stopped midway through, tired of the charade he was playing. "Harry never mentioned a date to the dance tonight," he accused, not caring how juvenile he sounded.

"Oh," as Luna shook her head, her blonde curls bounced off her shoulders, "he doesn't know yet."

"I beg your pardon?" Severus practically choked on his words. "He isn't aware he's attending the ball with you?"

"No."

His eyebrows shot up his forehead, wanting to inquire why she thought to take it upon herself to assume Harry would attend with her, however, the Gryffindor in question walked into the room alleviating the tension. Instantaneously, Severus understood what took Harry so long to get ready and why he sounded so anxious when the professor checked in on him. To start, the black dress robes the pair of wizards bought less than three months ago for Bill and Fleur's wedding were practically hanging off Harry's currently much smaller frame. With everything going on recently, Severus hadn't noticed how much weight Harry lost over the few months since the wedding. Was it all from his new chemotherapy regimen or had he been losing it a little bit over time? Either way, the professor needed to bring up his concern with Dr Swanson at Harry's chemotherapy tomorrow morning. Picking up on Severus staring at his ill-fitted attire, Harry nervously pulled at the sleeve of his robes.

I should have checked that they fitted him, Severus scolded himself.

Of course, his attention on Harry's clothing was short-lived because as his eyes shifted from the robes up to the Gryffindor's face, his heart lurched. Where the teen's thinning hair had been only hours ago was now bare. Not wanting to bring forth any negative karma, Severus intentionally avoided any mention of Harry's continuous lack of hair every morning. As of breakfast, the Gryffindor made no mention of shaving it for the dance, so what happened this evening to justify the sudden change?

Visibly uneasy and embarrassed, Harry shifted his weight on his feet. "I didn't think to check if the robes-"

"I love what you've done with your hair," Luna declared emphatically, standing to greet her unsuspecting date and took his left hand into hers. "I think you look rather dashing this way."

"Erm," Harry sheepishly rubbed his bald head with his free hand, "thanks… I think."

Severus watched in awe as the two distinctive teenagers navigated their unique situation, admitting if Harry needed anyone on a night like tonight, it was Luna Lovegood.

"We should get going, Harry," the blonde announced, wrapping her arm around Harry's waist; a move Severus saw Mae do many times with him.

"Severus, are you -" Harry nervously started, but the professor lifted his hand to stop him.

"I prefer to arrive as close to the beginning as possible," he explained. "Go on and have fun. I'll see you later."

Harry's smile made all his misery over the upcoming ball worth it, and he finally agreed that this dance was exactly what the students - and staff, alike - needed after all they endured so far this year. Hopefully, this marked the start of better things to come, but his intuition prickled for him to stay alert.

~~~~HP~~~~

"I wasn't really planning on going tonight with anyone, y'know," Harry confessed, walking side by side with Luna through the dark dungeon corridors. Although frustrated by his sickly appearance when he first put on his dress robes, he didn't feel nearly as embarrassed as he expected while they headed up to the Great Hall.

Peering over to the witch next to him, Harry regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. As usual, Luna took her own, more liberal, approach when selecting a Halloween gown. Her knee-length, black dress started with a black lace overlay leading from her delicate neckline down her torso and stopped at her waist, hugging her curves in all of the right places. The lace transitioned at her hips into a smooth gradient material beginning with orange, then subtly changing to yellow and ending with a strip of black along the bottom edge. Dark ebony shadowed trees and birds - charmed to move as if a strong breeze blew them horizontally across her skirt - printed on top of the orange and yellow section created a mesmerizing picture. She looked festive, fun, and just sexy enough to confuse Harry over his feelings towards his friend.

"I know that, silly," Luna paused in their quest and turned her head to the side to get a better look at him. "I just figured if you're going alone and I'm going alone, why not go alone together."

Harry squinted his eyes trying to follow her train of thinking. "That doesn't make much sense. I mean… I don't mind going with you… as friends… I really appreciate it, actually.. but if we're going together then we're not really going alone."

"I don't think so," the blonde proclaimed and continued walking through the corridors to the stairs leading up to the Great Hall. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," Harry blurted, jogging to catch up to her, not realizing how much further she'd gotten as he thought through her answer to him. Daringly, he wrapped his arm around her waist to help escort her up the stairs and quietly said, "You're a really good friend, Luna. Thank you."

When they arrived, the doors to the Great Hall were closed, and a distinct feeling of deja vu from the yule ball surrounded Harry; specifically standing in the corridor outside with Parvati before being announced to kick off the Ball. Unlike that occasion, though, the normal Halloween feast would be held prior to the dancing, and therefore he didn't think there would be any ceremonial start to the night. With any luck, students would filter in as any other Halloween, sit down at their tables - allowing more fluidity between houses to account for dates and such - and then they'd move onto dancing without any fanfare, speeches, or special pairings. The couple arrived arm in arm with five others - including Neville and Hannah - and a handful of friends standing idly outside of the heavy doors blocking their destination out of view. Luckily, all the other students around them saw him last year without his hair, meaning outside of a quick glance in his direction, their eyes automatically travelling up to his head, no one mentioned anything about it. That left only the first years to face, and his very public relationship with Snape - Harry shuddered remembering the rumours surrounding them, figuring they likely hadn't gotten any better over the last month - would prevent anyone from confronting him.

"Are we allowed to go in?" Harry asked the group, giving Neville a friendly slap on the shoulder. Harry took a second to admire how much the other Gryffindor had grown out of his awkwardness over their first five years. Now, Neville stood proud in his crisp set of navy dress robes with his arm equally snug and confidently interlocked with Hannah's and Harry wondered when such a large transformation occurred.

"We're-" Neville gestured to himself and his date, "-waiting on Ron, Hermione, and Dudley. I'm not sure on everyone else, but I think you can go in if you'd like."

Turning to Luna, Harry said, "I'd like us all to get seats together, if that's alright with you?"

"I didn't know you guys were going together," Hannah quietly spoke up.

Luna shook her head. "We're not, really, we're just both going alone together." Harry stifled a laugh at the Hufflepuff's confused expression. "But I think waiting for everyone is a great idea, Harry. We should all stick together."

To pass the time, Harry and his dormmate caught up on classes - including Harry giving an animated demonstration of a typewriter - the plans for the illicit afterparty Dudley previously claimed Harry would have no problem attending, and what they thought the Weasley twins' definition of "Halloween Entertainment" included.

Less than five minutes later, they were joined by Dudley and Susan, with Ron and Lavender coming up only a minute or so behind them. For Harry, ignoring chemotherapy in the morning, standing in the entrance to the Great Hall - catching a small glimpse of the actual hall here or there as people began shuffling in - surrounded by his friends was all he needed to have a great night. No amount of decorations, food he likely wouldn't eat much of, dancing, or pranks could replace the natural high he felt, especially when he'd been more or less secluded for the entire week.

"May I have your attention please?" McGonagall's stern voice announced to those still lingering outside of the Great Hall.

At the silence of those around them, Ron leaned and whispered into Harry's ear. "Where's 'Mione?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Harry shrugged, then turned to search the three or so dozen students now gathering around them. As expected, the Gryffindor witch, and her Slytherin boyfriend, were nowhere to be seen. "Maybe she and Draco went in already?"

"The git better not have," Ron angrily whispered, "we all said we'd meet here first."

Harry tried to ignore the isolating feeling settling into him by his best mate's statement. He hadn't been a part of those plans. What if Luna didn't take it upon herself to decide that they would go alone together - the more he said it, the more he actually started to follow her train of thought - or Neville and Hannah weren't loitering out in the corridor when they arrived? Would he be sitting in there completely alone because his friends all made plans without him?

"If everyone would please enter the Great Hall and take your seats," McGonagall continued, "the feast is about to commence."

"What are the odds we can find seats together this late," Dudley logically asked. Obviously, none of them anticipated being among the last group of students to enter.

"Nah," Ron bellowed, "people will move over for us, or we'll make them."

"Knowing Hermione," Susan nervously shifted on her high-heeled feet, "she probably already has seats reserved for us and we missed the missive."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Let's get going in, I don't want to hear her lecturing us all night."

The group all laughed at the redhead's exasperated expression, one they all intimately understood, but would never say out loud.

"Harry, "McGonagall gestured for him to part from the group for a moment.

"Hey guys," Harry told his friends, nodding his head towards his former guardian, "I'll meet you in there. McGonagall wants to see me for some reason."

Ron feigned frustration. "Well, I'm going to start to eat with or without you lot, so you better hurry up."

This time only Harry chuckled; no one else in the group truly understood Ron's insatiable need for food. Even before the chemotherapy killed his appetite and caused him too much nausea or stomach pain to eat properly, Harry was never one of those teenage boys who ravaged food when placed in front of him. Mrs Weasley - who had more experience than anyone Harry knew about raising boys - made that comment on more than one occasion. At least now he had a better excuse for it than his lack of meals over the summer.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" Harry asked, approaching McGonagall standing off to the left side of the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Of course, Harry," she reassured him, endearingly brushing invisible lint off the shoulder of his dress robes. "I simply wanted to see if you needed anything for tomorrow afternoon. Dare I say once the festivities start, you'll be more than a little preoccupied."

Admittedly, Harry knew he didn't always have the best track record of staying on top of information - a challenge exacerbated by the 'chemo brain' he still faced - but this time he legitimately had zero clue as to what she was talking about.

"Erm…" he scrunched his face in concentration trying to think back on anything said in the last several days to make sense of her question. Coming up blank, he finally shook his head and answered, "I have no idea what you mean. I have chemo tomorrow at the clinic-"

"Yes, yes," she raised her eyebrows knowingly, "didn't Severus tell you? I will be watching when you return."

Physically recoiling, Harry retorted, "What?"

"Oh dear," the elderly witch replied. "He has a previous engagement tomorrow afternoon, so I'll be bringing you back to the castle. Is there anything-"

"No," Harry interrupted her, not caring how rude it appeared. "He didn't tell me anything about it and I don't need anything."

Why didn't Severus mention having plans tomorrow? He silently asked, his mind trailed back to the Belladonna; something he hadn't thought about in a while, with everything else going on in his life.

"I'm sure he didn't want to worry you," the professor stated. At Harry's mumbled yeah, her eyes softened and she placed both of her hands on his shoulders, her eyes quickly averted up to his head and back. "It's good to see you here. Don't think any more about it, do you hear me? Have fun tonight… be a seventeen-year-old, and enjoy the time with your friends. We'll deal with tomorrow when it's here."

Her gaze moved, now focusing on the space directly behind him. Turning - half wishing to see Hermione and Draco - he watched Luna spinning aimlessly around while staring up at the high, stone ceiling. The simple act calmed the start of Harry's turbulent mood.

"I will, Professor," he chuckled, not removing his eyes from his non-date. "Thanks for the reminder."

With a hurried "see you tomorrow" thrown over his shoulder, the young Gryffindor joined Luna, taking her arm in his to finally enter - almost last - the Great Hall.

Harry could count on one hand the number of times he'd been blown away by the sight of the Great Hall to the extent he experienced walking in. Quite obviously, his first time entering the grand space when starting at Hogwarts would always hold first place. Having no real context about magic and its abilities, he'd never forget the feeling of awe overseeing the enchanting ceiling filled with the night's sky and more stars than he'd ever seen in his life. The floating candles directly beneath it took a second for him to even comprehend as he stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. Then came the amazement of the sheer size of the room, made grander by the stone walls, pillars, lanterns, and long tables, reminding him he wasn't attending the horrible Stonewall Academy. No, walking into the room as a tiny eleven-year-old, he knew he was somewhere special; somewhere he truly belonged.

The second-place spot for his awe over the Great Hall belonged to the Yule Ball. Even though by his fourth year he had plenty of experience in the things magic could accomplish, he still found himself caught by surprise every now and again. The tent they used at the Quidditch World Cup earlier in the summer was one such occasion and the transformation of the Great Hall into a Winter Wonderland - after getting over the shock of the entire school watching him fumble through his lack of dance knowledge - had been the next. At the time, he hoped he never lost that sense of wonder and awe over magic, and until this exact moment, he'd been afraid his own lack of magic tainted his feelings towards it. But walking in and seeing another grand transformation confirmed he still loved and appreciated the Wizarding World.

Contrary to the Yule Ball, the Great Hall decorated for the Halloween Ball had a dark and eerie feeling to it when he entered. The door behind him seemingly disappeared the moment they crossed the threshold, giving Harry a fleeting panic over how they'd find their way out at the end of the night. The walls were covered in an orange-red fabric and illuminated from behind to give a lantern-like soft glow all around them. A thick, dark, menacingly fog defied gravity by rising up above the floor and came to a hard stop a half-meter below the seat level of the tables, creating a swirling path as they walked down the main aisle in search of their friends. Since the entire school was in attendance for the Halloween Feast and following Ball, the picnic-style tables were used - as opposed to the more intimate circular ones from the Yule Ball - in order to fit everyone, but to provide less House structure, many smaller tables ran horizontally across the room in place of their four, long vertical ones. The tops of the tables were covered in the same orange fabric as the walls with a soft moss coating the surface. Large black trees towered up from the centre of each table and their bare branches reached out the length of it, leaving no vertical space uncovered; interestingly, not too unlike the scene on Luna's skirt. Harry paused as they approached the table where his friends were located, half expecting the long limbs to twist and turn in the same manner as the Whomping Willow. Thankfully, they remained motionless.

Harry sat down next to Ron, and a small smile crept on his face when he saw Snape's single contribution to the Ball sitting in front of him: two smoking black cauldrons placed evenly on each side of the tree. Coloured smoke - rotating in a random assortment of colours - poured out of the cauldrons, covering the moss and their place settings adding to the creepy atmosphere of the event. To say he felt immersed in the magic and the ominous ambience of the room would be an understatement. The staff tables were in their normal location at the front and though they also had the steaming cauldrons, they lacked the deadly tree sprouting up from the centre. Most of the professors were dressed in black, making finding Snape much more difficult than usual, but the man was a creature of habit and despite every other member of the staff sitting in a different location the Defense professor remained in his usual seat. Making eye contact with him, Harry pointed at the cauldron and gave a quick thumbs up to show his approval of the project the young wizard heard him complaining endlessly about for days, and was promptly rewarded with a scowl.

"Still no Hermione?" He worriedly asked, scanning up and down the table they shared with Neville, Dudley, Dean, Seamus - and their respective dates - stopping at the empty two spaces near the end.

"No," Ron pointed to the same two spots, "they probably got lost in the library while having a row about the origins of some bloody mythological creature or another."

"Or the Daily Prophet," Neville offered, "they've been arguing about that a lot lately. What's been covered and what hasn't."

The Three Broomsticks, Harry confidently speculated, and Hermione's odd reaction to the lack of coverage around the incident. Harry, and most of their other friends, didn't think twice about it. Why would the Prophet report on something where the Malfoy heir had been at the centre of the attack? The wizarding world wouldn't sympathize with him, and Lucius Malfoy certainly wouldn't want to draw attention to it. But while many still questioned why Hermione hadn't been sorted into Ravenclaw, Harry knew she was a Gryffindor through and through, and refused to step aside for any wrongdoings; particularly those related to her boyfriend.

"They're arguing?" Harry inquired curiously.

"Debating," Ginny corrected him. "That's what Hermione keeps calling it anyway. Sounds like fighting to the rest of us."

The sound of the heavy doors to the Great Hall opening, followed closely by the bang due to them closing, prevented Harry's inquiry into what else they debated about recently. The whole room turned to watch the couple in question sheepishly shuffle into the Halloween themed room. Similar to the Yule Ball, Hermione looked stunning in a shimmering fitted dark purple dress topped by a layer of some kind of sheer black fabric over it. Her updo sat precariously on the top of her head with waterfall curls coming down the sides of her lightly make-upped face. To match his date, Draco accented his black dress robes in the same dark purple, with a purple and black striped tie. They were the visual of a perfectly coordinated couple, all the way down to their matching, embarrassed, flushed cheeks; a sign Harry saw more often than he liked on this pair of friends.

"I'd say it's safe to say ya weren't arguin'," Seamus boisterously laughed out loud. "Benefets to dat pahsh private room and all, eh?"

Neither of them spoke a word to Seamus, rather Draco did what Malfoys did best and worked to move the spotlight from himself - and his own indiscretions - onto someone else.

"Nice haircut, Potter," the Slytherin practically shouted across the table, nonchalantly filling his plate with food. "It really brings out your scar, looks more like a scribbled N than a lightning bolt though."

The rest of the teens seated at the table between Harry and Draco instantly halted by the seemingly harsh insult on the Gryffindor's lack of hair. Harry, though, chucked at the memory from two summers ago when Draco had first seen him bald. It was hard to believe how far they'd come - from mortal enemies to friends… twice, actually - in a relatively short time frame.

"Sure beats that ugly Mark on your arm, Malfoy," Harry retorted.

Feigning pain, Draco dramatically held his hand to his chest and exclaimed, "You hurt me, Potter," causing the rest of the table to sigh in relief, able to go back to their night.

~~~~SS~~~~

"You could have warned me Harry didn't know about your plans tomorrow afternoon," Minerva lectured Severus as she stoically stood to his right watching over the sea of students, hyped up on too much sugar, dancing around the cleared out floor. "The poor boy seemed quite taken aback when I mentioned it."

The music was too loud for Severus to properly think about the task at hand, let alone the implications from his colleague's - and one of his closest friends - inability to keep her mouth shut. He hadn't intentionally kept his plans to explore the area in London where he'd be meeting Dr Swanson's brother a secret, but it never felt like the appropriate moment and he figured presenting it in the morning as a last-minute alteration to their day made little difference to the young Gryffindor either way. What would make a difference, though, was Severus himself not explaining it to him and instead of hearing it second hand from Minerva.

Severus turned his head to address the allegation. "Well, had you not said anything in the first place, he wouldn't have been caught so off guard and therefore distressed over it."

"Oooh, pardon me," she stifled a laugh, "normal people share these types of details with those who are close to them."

"We've been a bit busy as of late," he replied, feeling absolutely no guilt over the partial lie. "And I did not particularly see the need to cause him to worry over the reasoning for my absence."

"And that would be what exactly?" She challenged.

Turning to face the elderly witch head-on, Severus narrowed his eyes at her. "That is also none of your concern."

"Have it your way, Severus," she conceded.

They stood with a tense silence between them - because the air around them rattling from music and screaming teenagers could never be described as quiet - watching over the students, though unless anyone got particularly rowdy or handsy, Severus had no intentions of stepping in. More often than he cared to admit, he thought of Mae and how much he wished she could be there with him. Harry's treatment the next day would be his first at the clinic since his relapse diagnosis, and knowing it would probably be difficult for them both, his girlfriend rearranged her usually later work shift to be there for the pair, and he couldn't wait to see her again; to be able to wrap his arms around her. The couple may not have spoken explicitly about Harry, and specifically Severus's role in the teen's life, but in the short time Mae got the chance to know Harry, he saw her beginning to grow closer to the teen. If things went well, he would be adopting Harry in a matter of months, and Mae being supportive of this endeavour would help to smooth the road along the way.

"He looks happy," Minerva broke the silence.

Severus's gaze trailed from his assigned section of the room to actively watch to the area where Harry, Luna, and their friends were dancing. Happy; the perfect word to describe the teenagers out on the dance floor. No, Harry hadn't eaten nearly enough at the feast, based on what Severus saw, and he certainly didn't have the same energy level he previously had doing the same activity at the Weasley wedding only a couple of months prior, nonetheless his green eyes - poking above the muggle medical mask he wore the entire night, outside of dinner - were undeniably happy. The large group of seventh years, technically still children teetering on the edge of adulthood, waltzed from one part of the hall to the other laughing over something no one else could likely hear over the rest of the noise, grabbing blood punch or Cockroach Clusters off the refreshment table, all completely carefree. Never would one guess their years at Hogwarts were once littered with Voldemort's constant threat year after year, or a basilisk attack, a mass murderer, a deadly tournament, and a deranged political tyrant literally putting a stop to their education. And with this year gearing up not much different than their previous six, this specific class would never really see a typical, non-threatening school year. Even going to school at the height of the first war his own Hogwarts days weren't nearly as disrupted. His demons came from within the school, partially at his own hand, by his fellow peers. Somehow having a werewolf for a classmate seemed preferred to half of the situations these students lived through.

"They deserve to be happy," he eventually answered Minerva, referring to the collective group rather than only Harry. "They'll be going off into the working world in only a matter of months and I'd be surprised if more than half of them are prepared for it. I have a feeling their final two terms coming up will be difficult and eye-opening."

"They've certainly been a unique group of students," Minerva commented. "After the last three Weasley boys and Harry, I may reconsider retirement… definitely before any other Weasleys or Potters end up on my roster." Severus responded with an inaudible hmph. "And what about you? The rumours throughout the staff are all but confirmed you won't be back next year."

"Likely not," Severus continued to keep a keen eye on Harry and his friends. The song shifted from upbeat to a slower rhythm prompting the couples - including Harry and Luna - to dance closer than the school probably wanted. Severus hardly cared though. The small muscles on Draco's face, which usually stayed tight as the young Slytherin kept his walls erected around him, were relaxed while gazing at his date. "Draco won't be here any longer and Harry… we can't really know what's going to happen there… so there's really no reason for me to stay. I took the post for my status as a spy and thankfully that's not needed anymore either."

"You want to stay in the research sector, don't you?"

For someone who dedicated her life to her craft - in this case teaching the next generation of witches and wizards who would go on to be Healers, Aurors, Unspeakables, or even the next Minister - she didn't have nearly the disappointment in her voice she could have had. Never in Severus's life did he want to teach anything, let alone the subject he loved the most. It had become tiresome to watch for explosions and melting cauldrons day in and day out, and despite the fact Albus would likely retain him as the Defense Professor if he wanted it, the truth was that he didn't. He wanted to answer her by stating how he could do without the career of dealing with bickering students, but he didn't get the opportunity. The slow dancing song had barely started to end, the couples consequently still engulfed in one another's arms, when the charmed hidden doors burst open causing the music to come to a halt and everyone turned to their newest guests: Aurors Shacklebolt and Williamson, the former appearing rather sympathetic to the intrusion, the latter not so much.

"Draco Malfoy!" Williamson bellowed throughout the Hall with the aid of Sonorous. "Do not move!"

Damn them!

Severus didn't think twice, he didn't have to, and reacting on his instinct alone, he thrusted himself off his section of the wall desperate to get to his student first. Pushing and shoving his way through the sea of teenagers - all of whom would have parted like the Red Sea a year ago - he once again failed in his mission. To his credit, Draco didn't fight the balding auror as he manhandled the young wizard, seemingly intending on tripping him up on his feet, towards the fully hidden doors; his stoic face expressing how much this intrusion into his Halloween festivities didn't surprise him in the slightest.

"You're hurting him!" Hermione yelled as he approached. The Slytherin's girlfriend did her best to keep up with the Aurors' swift steps, kicking off her heels in the process.

"He didn't do anything!" Severus heard Harry's distinct voice exclaim, and for the first time since Kingsley and Williamson's arrival, the professor had his eyes on his child. Moving faster than Severus had seen the teen in the last several days, Harry reached the group and tugged hard at Williamson's arm in an attempt to release Draco from their grasp. "Leave 'im alone!"

"Harry," Kingsley's booming voice warned, but the Head Auror wasn't fast enough to prevent Williamson from brandishing his wand at the Gryffindor.

"Does threatening an innocent, unarmed student turn you on?" Severus accused when he finally approached the escalating situation. "I'm sure the DMLE would love a statement on the situation. I'd be more than willing to provide my memory of it, then they could see how inappropriately you've handled yet another innocent wizard."

Standing up taller, Williamson sneered at Severus, then pulled Draco closer to him and said, "I guess we'll find out just how innocent he is. As for that one-" he jutted his chin over at Harry, "- he's hardly unarmed."

"Yes, he is!" Hermione declared standing with her boyfriend to one side and her best friend to the other. Harry had his arm wrapped around the witch's upper arms in support.

"Gentlemen," Albus eventually approached the commotion, his presence creating a natural barrier from the other students, "if you're determined to do an inspection tonight, might I suggest we take this to my office? This way the rest of my pupils may go back to their festivities."

"Of course, Headmaster," Kingsley answered, not allowing Williamson to cause any more problems.

"I'm coming too," Hermione spoke up, freeing herself from Harry's comforting grasp.

"No," Kingsley held out his hand to stop her approach, "the only people allowed to come are Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and Severus Snape. The rest of you stay put."

"He'll be alright, Hermione," Severus heard Ron Weasley of all people say, "we'll wait right here for him to come back."

Severus watched the exchange between the two Gryffindors and while anyone else might interpret the glassiness of Hermione's brown eyes as worrying over what may happen to her boyfriend, as a former spy, Severus knew better. She didn't look regretful for him being pulled away from the Halloween Ball, as everyone expected her to be, she appeared terrified - as if she were afraid of what was to come because she foresaw something coming.

They were late. Severus remembered the couple entering the Great Hall well after the feast started. What held them up from the celebration?

As the two Aurors left the Great Hall with Draco, Minerva and Albus in their wake, Severus stepped towards the group of teenagers now surrounding the student he most wanted to speak to.

"Miss Granger," Severus beckoned, gesturing for her to follow him away from her friends, "if there's anything you feel I should know prior to the inspection of Draco's wand, I suggest you tell me immediately."

Holding her arms across her stomach, the Gryffindor witch peered around them, then behind her, checking to be sure they wouldn't be overheard. The consternation deeply seated in her face caused Severus to wield his own ebony wand and surrounded them in a hasty muffliato.

"I cannot help him if I do not know what to expect," he warned her. "They'll hold off the inspection of his wand until I arrive, but dare I say Williamson will come looking for me in a matter of minutes."

Uncharacteristically worrying her bottom lip, Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it, and opened it once more. "I can trust you?" She asked, to which he clearly nodded. "He's an animagus."

She said the words so quickly and quietly the professor almost missed it, and when they finally sank in, he frowned.

"I am aware of that situation," he told her, but the relief he'd hoped to provide the anxious teen did not come.

"No," her curls now loosened from all of the dancing fell upon her face as she shook her head. "You don't understand… tonight… before coming to the ball, he visited me in my room and we…" she wrinkled her eyebrows.

"Please stick to the relevant details, Miss Granger," he reminded her, "and do hurry this up."

"Of course," she flustered, "in order to get to my room undetected, Draco has been using his… kitten… form."

Severus pinched his eyes shut. "Though that is certainly breaking a school rule, both for students with and without an animagus form, the Aurors cannot detect where he was when he used the spells. So unless…"

He trailed off as her face scrunched almost into tears and the final puzzle pieces fell into place inside of his head. Back when he interrogated Draco, he thought the blonde answered too quickly when they discussed his animagus form, and yet he never went back to verify the validity of the information provided.

"Miss Granger," Severus very carefully said, then changed tactics, "Hermione… please tell me Draco's animagus form is registered with the Ministry."

His heart lurched and his stomach fell when she slowly, almost imperceptibly turned her head from side to side. "No, sir," her voice trembled through the words, "he promised me he'd register by Christmas."

He couldn't breathe, sure that somehow Albus arranged for all of the oxygen to be removed from the room.

"How long ago?" Severus demanded, taking a hold of Hermione's arms and practically shaking the answer from her. The Aurors only checked so much of the wand's history. It was his last hope, and a small one at that, but if the inspection number came back small enough, it might not reveal the animagus spell. "How long ago did he use the spell? Is it possible he has used enough spells since then to prevent it from reasonably appearing?"

Once again, her head turned to the negative. "He barely used his wand once getting to my room and he hasn't needed it here. You have to help him, sir, he can't go to Azkaban!"

"At this point, I'm afraid it's out of my control," he painfully said, feeling his own sorrow mixed with anger rising up to the surface. "Unless he's fortunate enough to have randomly drawn an exceptionally low spell number, they will discover he's an animagus, they will know he's unregistered, and he will go to Azkaban."

Chapter End Notes:
Coming up Next: What Now?

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