Harry stood staring at the shiny black casket that held the body of Draco Malfoy, hardly noticing that he was soaked from the pouring rain. How many funerals would he have to go to? How many people would die? Was it all because of him? The Death Eaters were more than likely after him and Draco had been protecting him. Was it his fault?

Tomorrow was New Years’ Eve. Maybe the new year would be better.

He looked up when he was suddenly shielded from the downpour. He met the steady eyes of Snape.

“Thanks,” he said, turning back to the coffin.

“You’ll catch your death out here,” Snape said. “This won’t be rain much longer.”

Harry shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time I was stuck out in bad weather.”

“What do you—“

“Don’t ask, not now.”

Snape sighed. “It is not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Harry gazed up at him again. “The curse was for me. I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention. He was saving my stupid self.”

“What he did was brave and honourable,” Snape said and put a hand on the back of Harry’s neck in a new form of comfort. “Perhaps try to remember that instead.”

“I don’t deserve to live more than he did.”

“But you do deserve to live,” Snape said and continued when Harry went to argue. “He deserves to live as well, I know. Perhaps consider the idea that his feelings towards you had changed enough that he now saw the two of you as being on the same level.”

Harry returned to the coffin, thoughtful.

“Do not remain out here for too much longer and you may come down when you return inside,” Snape said. He squeezed Harry’s neck gently and swept away into the castle, leaving Harry to stand in the rain that was quickly turning to sleet.

He knew he should go inside, but he couldn’t make himself leave. Nothing about Draco Malfoy seemed properly settled and closed. Things had been changing, their animosity fading. They were even being…friendly. Now nothing more could come of it. They would never know if they could be friends. He wrapped his arms around himself sadly. Merlin knew they could both use a friend.

“Potter!”

Harry turned his head and tensed when he saw Draco’s crowd heading towards him. He slipped his hand inside his jacket, grasping his wand.

“You think you’re doing?” Blaise Zabini snapped.

“Saying goodbye,” he said simply.

“You have no right!” Pansy Parkinson screeched.

“I knew him, too,” Harry said. “I have every right.”

“You lost that right when he died for you,” Zabini sneered. “It’s your fault, just like Weasley.”

Harry winced involuntarily.

“Time you joined him,” Zabini said and before Harry could think, he was being dragged and tossed into icy cold water.

He gasped, regretting it immediately when water rushed painfully into his lungs. He instantly snapped his mouth shut and struggled to gain his bearings. He had no idea which way was which through the cold and shock and pain. He struggled to swim in any direction, his vision blocked by dark water.

After more thrashing, he managed to determine which way was ‘up’ and he started for it immediately. His lungs were burning from the ice water and lack of oxygen. He could feel his body beginning to panic but he kept swimming until his ankle was grabbed, and he found the surface growing further away. He went to look down at the culprit but suddenly lost the fight to hold his breath, and the lake’s water rushed into his body at an excruciating pace. It wasn’t long before his vision began to spot and blur before going steadily darker.

‘Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground.’

Well, that was nice whatever it was.

He wasn’t aware that he was moving through the water until he found himself swallowing air rather than icy water. He heaved painfully and coughed harshly. His chest and throat seared and burned, his eyes beginning to water with the pain.

“Take it easy,” a voice said. “Breathe slowly.”

He did his best to listen, finding his mind coming to focus on the gentle hand that had come to rest on his back. His chest continued to burn but he slowly began to catch his breath. He began to shiver, his drenched body registering the frigid air of the Scottish winter storm that had quickly come upon the castle.

“You’ll be alright,” the voice said and a warm cloak fell over his shoulders.

Harry blinked to clear his vision as his breathing became regular. He looked around, finally able to see his surroundings. He clutched the cloak tighter, feeling his body shake harder with the cold. He finally looked up at the man who had saved him and was shocked to see the long blonde hair of Lucius Malfoy. He winced involuntarily, a memory of second year racing by.

“How’re you feeling?”

“C-cold,” Harry said honestly and Malfoy chuckled. “W-w—“

“Let’s get you inside and warm, and then we’ll talk, yes?” Malfoy said and Harry nodded.

With the man’s help, Harry got to his feet unsteadily and slowly walked. He leaned heavily on Malfoy, grateful for the supporting arm around his still cloak-covered shoulders. He was becoming exhausted and the journey through the castle was becoming a blur. He amazed himself when, at a flight of stairs, he was brought into Malfoy’s arms and he didn’t struggle. As he was carried, he noticed the spiraling down of their trek and realized they were heading down into the dungeons. He blinked to himself. Shouldn’t they be going to the Hospital Wing?

He was placed back on his feet and he instantly grabbed Malfoy’s robes for balance. They continued. They didn’t walk much farther before they were pushing through a couple of doors. Heat hit his body and he sighed slightly at how good it felt.

“Really, Lucius? I understand today is difficult but to barge in?”

Harry raised his head slightly at the voice.

“Severus,” Malfoy said, still holding Harry to his side.

Harry watched the professor enter the room, expecting to be angrily thrown out.

“My god, what’s happened?” Snape said, rushing over to them.

“It seems some of Draco’s…associates decided to get what they considered revenge. They threw him in the lake. I just managed to get him,” Malfoy said.

Shockingly, Snape had knelt in front of Harry and was examining the child.

“Are you alright?” Snape asked.

Harry nodded. “Cold,” he whispered, clutching Malfoy’s cloak around him tighter.

“Of course you are, child,” Snape said, getting to his feet and pulling Harry over to stand by the roaring fireplace. Snape waved his wand, and a thick bathrobe flew into his arms and a fluffy blanket landed by their feet. “Put this on and wrap up in the blanket. Remove your clothes first and sit by the fire.”

Harry looked at him, unsure.

“We will leave the room while you change, but you must get out of the clothes,” Snape said.

Harry sighed and nodded, taking the robe from the professor.

“I will make some tea,” Snape said. “Lucius.”

Harry watched the two men walk into the kitchen and the normally open door swung closed. He smiled a little at the gesture and proceeded to do as he was told. While it was quite strange and uncomfortable to be wearing nothing under the robe, he did his best to ignore it, knowing he couldn’t stay in the clothes. He unfolded the blanket and, settling on the rug in front of the fire, wrapped it around his body and leaned against the side of the sofa. He stared into the dancing flames, still shivering but already feeling much warmer.

“Tea.” Snape interrupted Harry’s silence and he reached out of his cocoon for the steaming mug.

“Thank you,” he said, using it to warm his hands and breathing the steam to warm his chest.

Snape inclined his head and sat on the sofa beside where Harry was leaning. “Feeling any better?”

“Yes, sir. Already warmer,” Harry said, carefully taking a sip of his tea.

“Good,” Snape said. “Stay there by the fire for a while longer.”

Harry nodded and returned to looking at the fire.

“Who was involved?” Snape asked Malfoy who was sitting at the other end of the sofa.

“Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and Zabini,” Malfoy said. “I believe Zabini was the main instigator.”

“What has happened to them?”

“Already sent to Dumbledore who has also already received a Ministry order for disciplinary action.”

“Excellent,” Snape said. “Thank you.”

Malfoy gave his friend an odd, but knowing look. “Not something I will allow happen and I know Dumbledore will not act without force.”

Snape hummed in agreement. “How are you?” he asked after a short period of silence.

Malfoy shrugged. “As well as I can be. It’s been hard.”

Snape nodded. “And Narcissa? I noticed she left immediately after the funeral.”

“Yes, she is not coping well,” Malfoy said. “I worry about her, worry she may give up.”

“You suspect suicidal thoughts?” Snape said.

Malfoy nodded. “I have one of our house elves with her whenever I am not.”

“Bring her to me if you need.”

“I will.”

“Professor?” Harry interrupted and Snape looked down at the teen. “What kind of creatures live in the Black Lake?”

“The lake is predominately inhabited by grindylows and merpeople,” Snape said. “Why do you ask?”

“I heard singing,” Harry said, looking back at the fire.

“That would be the merpeople,” Snape said. “They can only speak underwater and have lovely melodies.”

Harry’s eyes widened as his mind raced, and he began to get to his feet. “I have to go. I—“

“You are going to sit back down,” Snape said, a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You must rest and warm up, child. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow.”

Harry met the man’s eyes and nodded. He settled back against the sofa, unconsciously leaning against his professor’s legs lightly.

The atmosphere grew remarkably comfortable, Snape and Malfoy quietly talking and Harry relaxing into the flames. He vaguely listened to their conversation, feeling himself slowly drifting off. He was so warm and comfortable. His eyelids continuously drooped until they remained closed, keeping him in a deep and restful sleep.

“Severus, the boy,” Lucius said, gesturing to the teen still sitting on the floor.

Severus glanced down to find the child had fallen asleep and had done so against his legs. Rather than irritation, he felt a sense of relief, relief that the child was alright and currently under his care. He frowned to himself as he continued to watch the Gryffindor sleep. Had things truly changed that much? Was he coming to care for the boy? He was the one that had been helping the boy through the year’s hardships and tragedies. They had been spending plenty of time together outside class and meetings. His reasons and excuses for previously hating the boy had slowly dissolved. It was possible he was developing a fondness for the child. Was it already so far to be considered caring? Could their past be forgiven?

“Shall we wake him and return him to the Tower?” Lucius said, breaking Severus' musings. “Severus?”

“No, let him sleep,” Severus said. “He needs the rest.”

Lucius gave a small smile. “Very well. I shall take my leave. I will talk to you tomorrow.”

“Have a good night, Lucius, and thank you again for the help with Potter,” Severus said. Lucius inclined his head in acknowledgement before stepping into the Floo.

Severus looked down at the sleeping Gryffindor and considered the situation. He should send Potter back to the Tower but something stopped him. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes had begun to soften as he observed the teenager. Surprising even himself, his hand came up and lightly touched the messy black hair. He carded his fingers gently through the hair.

The child was having such a difficult year and he didn’t seem to have many people to lean on and support him. He had a small handful of friends but that seemed to be it. Through passing comments, Severus had begun to wonder about the boy’s relatives. Additionally, what had happened to Lupin and Black? Wouldn’t they be in constant contact with Potter now they had all be reunited? Potter never mentioned either of the men.

He frowned slightly. Potter clearly had secrets. Not that he could judge; he had his own secrets, he mused, casting a glance down at his left arm.

What to do with the boy? After a few moments of thought, he finally made a decision. He carefully got to his feet and picked up the child who didn’t even stir. He walked to one of the four doors that led off the sitting room. He pushed the door open to the guestroom he had never before used. It was a dull room, nothing but beige colours, but it would do. He placed Potter on the bed, tucking him under the blankets and draping the extra fluffy blanket over top. He waved his wand silently and the fireplace came to life.

He gazed down at the boy, a damaged boy who was seemingly alone in the world. His heart beat with empathy, knowing what it was like to be alone.

No one, especially a child, should be forgotten and alone.

Harry walked out of the guestroom after dressing in the dry and clean clothes that had been left for him. He had been surprised to wake up still in Snape’s rooms. He thought he would’ve been sent back to Gryffindor Tower.

He was worried about you, Ron’s voice said.

Harry found he couldn’t argue. Snape had seemed concerned when Malfoy had brought him to the Potions master. Malfoy had seemed worried as well, come to think of it. It was an unfamiliar feeling, having adults that had worried about him and taken care of him.

He slowly walked into the kitchen and found Professor Snape standing at the stove, obviously cooking something.

“You know how to cook?” he blurted and then mentally cursed himself.

Snape turned his head, an eyebrow raised. “Good morning to you too, Mr. Potter.”

“Sorry,” Harry said. “Good morning.”

“Take a seat,” Snape said, turning back to the pan on the stove. “I do not generally cook while at Hogwarts as there are house elves. I do, however, cook at my home. I have never had a house elf and will never have one. I believe in doing things for yourself even if you have magic.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “My uncle has made sure I know that. He believes I should do everything myself so I don’t rely on him.”

Snape gave the boy a curious look as he plated breakfast. “I suppose that is a good lesson. Is your uncle reliable?”

“With certain things,” Harry said.

He’s reliable with punishments, he added silently.

Snape hummed. One of these days he would get the full story of the Dursley family. “Eat,” he said, putting a full plate at the spot closest to where Harry was still standing.

“Thanks,” Harry said, taking a seat. “Also, thanks for letting me stay here.”

Snape sat across from the boy with his own plate. “I had to ensure you had not caught pneumonia.”

Harry hid a small smile. “Right.”

They continued their breakfast in comfortable silence. Giving it a brief thought, Harry realized it wasn’t odd anymore. Having comfortable silences was becoming normal. He smiled down at his sausages, remembering what had been normal for them not too long ago.

“So, um, how is Mr. Malfoy?” Harry eventually asked.

“He is coping,” Snape said, glancing through the mail that had appeared on the table beside his plate. “It will take him time but I believe he will get through this. He is very strong.”

“Why was he still here, when he saved me?”

“He was coming to visit with me,” Snape said. “We are good friends and have been since our youth.”

“Did you go to school together?”

“Hogwarts, yes, for a short time. He was in his final year when I began. He helped me in that year and we remained in contact even after he had graduated.”

“He helped you with the Marauders?”

Snape looked at him sharply.

Harry dropped his eyes, ashamed. “Lupin, last year. He would tell me stories about their time in Hogwarts. He didn’t use names, but he did say Slytherins were their main targets with their pranks.”

Harry caught the sneer that grazed Snape’s face. “Suppose you two had great fun reliving those ‘pranks’.”

Harry shrugged. “Lupin might have, but I didn’t. It didn’t sound like pranks to me. It sounded vicious. It sounded like my cousin.”

“Your cousin?”

Harry nodded. “We don’t get along.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“Is that why you hate me?” Harry asked, ignoring the unasked questions he knew the professor had. “I remind you of my father, of them and what they did?”

Snape stared at the teen steadily. “It was part of it.”

Harry dropped his eyes with a nod.

“However, things change and it has little relevance anymore.”

The boy’s gaze flew up and fixed on the professor.

“I do not hate you,” Snape said. “I am seeing the things I should have in the beginning. I had simply blinded myself.”

Harry smiled, ignoring the way his eyes had begun to water. “Thank you, sir. I’m sure I didn’t exactly make things easy sometimes. I’m aware I can be difficult.”

Snape smirked. “You certainly can be, child.” He turned his attention to the letter he had opened and held in his hand. He raised an eyebrow at the contents. “I must speak with the headmaster, but you may continue your breakfast.”

Harry swallowed his most recent bite and shook his head. “Nope, I’m done. Thank you for the food.”

“If it meant you would eat more, I would give you breakfast every morning,” Snape said.

Harry got to his feet. “Been hard this year.”

Snape’s gaze gentled. “I know. Now go, but try to avoid the Slytherins and don’t go outside.”

Harry chuckled. “I won’t.”

Snape nodded in approval and they both left the man’s quarters. They walked up to the Entrance Hall together and then separated. Harry stood at the bottom of the Grand Staircase for a time, contemplating what to do with his day. As he stood there, the song he had heard in the lake came to mind.

“Merpeople,” he mumbled to himself and then began the journey up to his dorm in the Tower. He walked into the common room and was immediately confronted by hateful glares from Hermione and Ginny. He just shook his head sadly to himself and walked up to the dorm. He opened the trunk at the foot of his bed and grabbed his still unsolved golden egg. He had an idea, though, and, with the hint from Cedric some time ago, he was positive he was on the right track.

He also pulled out the Marauder’s Map, though he did so with sadness. It was a fantastic tool but it was also a reminder of Remus and Sirius, both of whom he had yet to hear from. He sighed and revealed the map, searching for anyone around the Prefects’ bathroom on the fifth floor.

It was currently clear.

He quietly left the Tower, ignoring the glares from Hermione and Ginny again. He walked down the corridor once on the fifth floor, searching for the statue that essentially hid the door to the Prefects’ bathroom. He found it around a corner and stopped, staring at the door, realizing he didn’t have the password. He bit his lip and looked at the map, remembering when it revealed a required incantation for him the previous year. He grinned when ‘pine fresh’ appeared beside the door on the map.

“Pine fresh,” he said and heard a click from the door. He pushed it open.

For a bathroom, the place was massive. It resembled more of an indoor swimming pool than anything else. He closed the map and put it in the cupboard where he found extra towels to keep it safe. He moved over to the pool-like bathtub and began to remove his clothes down to his boxers. He turned the taps by his feet and water of various colours poured from faucets and almost instantly filled the tub. Once filled, he stepped in.

He took a moment to enjoy the luxury before turning to the golden egg sitting on the edge with the towel. 

He felt extremely confident in his idea, but he also felt that he was completely insane for thinking water would change anything. With a mental shrug, he pulled his egg in and dunked it under the surface, opening it.

No screeching.

Instead, something muffled.

He took a deep breath and ducked under.

‘Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you’re searching ponder this;

We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,

An hour long you’ll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour, the prospect’s black,

Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.’

Harry quickly emerged, coughing. He had barely made it but he had, and now he had his clue.

As Snape had informed him, merpeople lived in the Black Lake so it was obviously merpeople that the song referred to. Something of meaning to him would be taken and he had to find it. The part that was getting him was the time. How was he supposed to hold his breath underwater for an hour? It was impossible.

He listened to the song a couple more times to make sure he didn’t miss anything, but it was perfectly clear.

Mostly.

How would he breathe underwater for an hour?