It took Harry a very long time to wake. 

Even as he returned to consciousness, Harry didn’t get up as quickly as he normally would. He was warm, comfortable, and felt so rested. It was too cosy, wrapped up in the duvet, and he didn’t ever want to leave his bed.

But it wasn’t long before the previous night’s events came flooding back to Harry. He groaned and burrowed under his duvet, cheeks aflame. He could not face the world after a display like that, especially since Snape was probably outside somewhere, judging him viciously! Had he actually cried on the man like a three-year-old? What was wrong with him? Harry was suddenly struck by the urge to owl Gilderoy Lockhart for a handy Memory Charm so he could scrub last night’s events from his brain…

Things felt rather odd, and Harry abruptly realised that it was because Snape’s quarters were strangely silent. Normally when he woke up on a school day, he’d hear the sounds of Draco rooting through his drawers, or Snape rustling papers, but things were entirely silent. Harry finally surfaced from his blanket cocoon, pushed his glasses onto his face, and squinted at his alarm clock. His stomach dropped.

It was quarter past eleven!

Harry jolted upright, panic rushing through him. He was going to be in so much trouble! Why hadn’t someone woken him up in time for lessons? He was supposed to have Transfiguration at that very moment, and Professor McGonagall would absolutely give him detention for being so late -

But Harry then spotted the note on his nightstand, written in familiar, cramped handwriting.

Harry,

You have the morning off lessons, so remain in my quarters until I return from teaching. I have left food on the table, so ensure you eat something when you wake.

S.S.

Harry felt some of the panic ease, but the note didn’t make him feel all that much better. He really wanted to just avoid Snape and get the hell out of his quarters so he could escape the embarrassment of last night, but that was impossible. Harry would be forced to return at nightfall and things would just be ten times worse if Snape knew Harry was avoiding him. 

He groaned and buried his face in his arms. If you could drop dead of embarrassment, Harry was going to do it.

The mortification was so all-consuming that it took Harry a fair few minutes to realise how much better he felt today. He’d spent all of last week in a miserable haze, and it had at last lifted. He’d also slept properly for the first time in a while, a deep and dreamless sleep without nightmares. Perhaps that was why Harry had managed to have such a long lie in. The latest he ever slept in was until about half-past eight, normally.

With a sigh, Harry got out of bed and began to pull on his robes. If he seemed ready for school, Snape might hopefully let him go without starting one of his endless chats? Harry hoped so, at least. He dressed, packed his bag with the textbooks for his afternoon lessons, and nervously shuffled into the main part of Snape’s quarters. 

Harry immediately noticed that an assortment of cereal and fruit had been set out in clear view at the table. He didn’t particularly feel like taking any of it, since it was practically lunch time and he could wait, but he doubted that excuse would fly with Snape. In fact, not eating any of that might be a gateway lecture into a discussion about other things, like the crying. Harry made a disgusted face and picked up an apple. 

He’d just finished eating it when the door to Snape’s quarters swung open, revealing the man. He saw the apple core in Harry’s hand and nodded approvingly. “How did you sleep?”

“Er - really well, actually.” Harry hurried over to the bin to throw away his food waste, just for something to do. “Sorry I slept in so late, I -”

“Don’t apologise,” Snape interrupted. “You clearly needed the rest, which is why I gave you the morning off.”

Harry nodded, and carefully avoided meeting Snape’s eyes. The tension in the air was palpable. Harry decided to break the awkward silence first, unable to bear it.

“So… how was your morning?”

“A Hufflepuff second-year singed off her eyebrows, but I otherwise avoided any major catastrophes,” Snape said, sweeping over to the sofa. He patted the seat next to him. “Sit.”

“I was going to go to the Great Hall for -”

“Sit,” he said firmly. “We’re talking about it.”

Harry made a great show of groaning and moping as he dragged himself over to the sofa and sat down, staring hard at the carpet. This should count as torture, he decided. 

“Can we just not?” he tried. “It’s embarrassing…”

Snape’s brows drew together. “I disagree.”

“It is!” Harry insisted. “I just - I was being a complete crying wreck!”

“There’s nothing wrong with crying, Harry.”

“Oh yes there is,” he muttered.

“Draco has cried in front of you quite a few times,” Snape commented idly. “Should he be embarrassed?”

Harry felt his cheeks heat up. “Well - no, but -”

“Then there is no reason for you to be ashamed.”

“It’s just different!” he protested.

“Really?” Snape watched him expectantly. “Tell me how, then.”

Harry thought for several moments, but to his annoyance, came up blank. He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, feeling rather irritated.

“You have every right to be upset about what happened, at any rate,” Snape added. “You’ve had a rather difficult week.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed reluctantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner what you heard under the Dementors’ influence?” Snape asked softly.

Harry fidgeted with his hands uncomfortably, debating the merits of telling Snape bits and pieces or everything. In the end, he decided to throw caution to the wind and just plough on. “I was too sad to do much of anything, really… I was also kind of worried, because I knew you knew my mum, and I didn’t want to upset you. Especially because… I was worried you’d blame me for what happened that night, maybe.”

Harry mumbled the last few words very quickly. After a moment of nervous anticipation, he glanced up at Snape’s face, unsure of what he was looking for. The man’s expression was pained.

“Why on earth would I blame you?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said miserably. “I wasn’t thinking very clearly at all.”

“I certainly do not blame you!” he said fiercely. “I blame the Dark Lord, not the defenceless child he attacked! Good grief…”

Harry felt his shoulders slump with relief. Apparently, a tiny part of him had still been worried without him truly realising.

“Harry.” Snape gave him a piercing look. “What happened to your parents was not your fault.”

Harry bit down on his lip, hard.

“Do you understand that?”

“I guess…”

“You will cease saying that it is immediately, then,” Snape ordered. "You are not responsible, and claiming to be absolves those who actually perpetrated the crimes against your family of their responsibility." 

“Okay,” Harry said with a wince. He hadn’t thought about things from that angle.

“Say it, then,” Snape ordered.

Harry frowned at him. “What?”

“Say it wasn’t your fault.”

Harry wrung his hands in his lap and took a shallow breath in. “What… what happened to my parents wasn’t my fault.”

Part of Harry felt a little ridiculous, having to repeat something like that aloud, but it did make him feel a little better to say it.

“Your parents would want you to be happy,” Snape said quietly. “Don’t do their sacrifices a disservice and carry on in the way you have.”

“I won’t,” Harry promised. “I really do feel a lot better today. Er - last night did help, I think, letting it out.”

He coughed and ducked his head, cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Snape said. He regarded Harry thoughtfully for a moment. “You know, I was serious when I offered you Occlumency lessons. If you’re still willing, I’d be perfectly happy to teach you.”

“Really?”

“I believe it’s a very useful skill,” Snape said. “Our lessons will begin after Christmas, then.”

Harry smiled. “Great.”

“After I fetch some things from my office, shall we go to the Great Hall together so you can rejoin your classmates?” Snape suggested.

“Okay.” Harry got to his feet and followed Snape into his office. Feeling curious, he asked, “So what was that Occlumency stuff you did last night, then? How did you make all my thoughts go away like that?”

“I brought you into my mindscape,” he explained. He pulled open a desk drawer and tucked a stack of papers into the pocket of his robes. 

“What’s a mindscape?”

“A physical landscape that I go to so I can shield my other thoughts, emotions and memories,” Snape said.

“Is that what you’re doing when your face goes all randomly relaxed when you get angry?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I’ll explain in more depth when I begin our Occlumency lessons.”

“Okay…” Harry, who wanted to learn how to do that immediately, had to fight to avoid sounding too impatient. “So how did I get in yours?”

“Legilimency.”

“That’s the mind reading stuff, right?”

“It is not mind reading,” Snape said tersely. He moved from his desk and began to prod at some vials at the back of his shelves. “It is far more eloquent and complex, and at any rate the mind cannot be ‘read’ in the way you describe -”

“But you saw my thoughts and memories and stuff, right?” he interrupted. 

“I did.”

Harry shrugged. “Sounds like mind reading to me.”

Snape gave him a truly withering look, then returned to his vials.

“So when I was at that beach place, I was in your mindscape - so was I like, in your thoughts?” The idea was simultaneously fascinating and slightly alarming to Harry. 

“Legilimency is in part the melding of two minds, so in a manner of speaking you were.”

“Cool!” he said. “Am I going to learn to do that with other people?”

“Perhaps, but it’s rather advanced,” Snape said. “It would take a while to learn.”

“I’ve never even been to a beach, but it was like I was actually there, you know?” Harry said. “So if I could do that, you could take people everywhere! Like - if I wanted to show someone Hogwarts who had never been there, I could take them into my mind and they’d be there, too… Legilimency is wicked!”

“We’re awfully chatty today, aren’t we?” Snape remarked, finally moving away from his shelves and towards the door.

“Well I’ve barely said anything for days and days, so I’m making up for lost time,” Harry said, following Snape out of the office.

“Perhaps employ a bit of that chattiness in the event you find yourself becoming that emotionally distressed again, please?” Snape said. He stopped walking and raised an eyebrow. “Despite your claims to the contrary, I cannot actually read minds. Seeing you in such a state while being powerless to work out what is wrong is not a particularly pleasant experience.”

Harry winced. He suddenly felt very bad for icing out Snape in the way he had been after the Quidditch match. “Sorry…”

“I don’t want an apology - I want you to place more value in your own wellbeing,” he said. “When I became your guardian, I promised you I wanted to help you with your problems - that still remains true. You can always come to me.”

“I’ll try more,” Harry said. “It’s not something I’m super good at, that’s all…”

“Believe me, I’ve noticed,” Snape said dryly. 

Harry gave him a sheepish look and shoved his hands into his pockets as they continued through the dungeons. Going to adults with his issues just wasn’t something he remembered was an option most of the time… the Dursleys could have cared less about his problems, after all. 

Still, Harry knew he needed to give it a go. Every single time he had a problem Harry found himself fearing Snape’s reaction if he dared to go to the man with it, but each time Snape was extraordinarily helpful. He’d helped Harry after the Dementors, after the issues with Draco, after finding out about the Dursleys… the list went on, really. What was the point of going around and feeling miserable when you could easily fix your problems by actually talking to someone about them?

I trust you, Harry thought at Snape’s back. I have someone to trust, now. I know he’ll help me.

He smiled to himself, a warm glow spreading throughout his chest.

Harry found himself quickly settling back into the regular routine of school after the Quidditch incident. Snape wasn’t the only one to seem rather relieved that Harry was back to normal - Ron and Hermione also seemed to cheer up when he returned to lessons, and Draco was clearly thrilled when Harry returned to their quarters Friday evening, actually smiling for the first time in a week. He couldn’t help but feel rather guilty for worrying them all, but that feeling quickly dissipated as Harry was dragged back into the usual routines of Exploding Snap, homework anxieties, and overly-competitive games of Monopoly. 

Harry made a mental note to work out a proper plan to get Ron and Hermione and Draco in a room together. After seeing them take on Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle together last week, Harry was certain Ron and Draco had a lot more in common than the two of them thought. He also thought Hermione might enjoy having someone more on her level to actually argue about homework with - if only they could all get past the first few years they’d known each other…

And as it turned out, Snape wasn’t the only person offering Harry extra lessons. After his first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson following the Quidditch match, Professor Lupin held Harry back.

“I was terribly sorry to hear about what happened with the match,” he said, packing some papers into his tattered briefcase. “Is there any chance of fixing your broomstick?” 

“No,” Harry said sadly. “The tree smashed it to bits.”

Lupin sighed. “They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts, you know. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance.”

“Er - did you hear about the Dementors, too?” Harry asked a little awkwardly.

“Yes, I did,” Lupin looked at him for a long moment. “I don’t think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time - furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds… I suppose they were the reason you fell?”

“Yeah.” Harry’s shoulders slumped. “I hate that they affect me like that.”

“Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth,” Lupin said bitterly. “They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can’t see them. Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory, will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself - soulless and evil. You’ll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that has happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of.”

Snape had said something similar, Harry thought, recalling their late night discussion last Thursday. He thought it was rather odd how much Snape clearly hated Lupin, even though they believed a lot of the same things. Harry felt like they’d get on - so why didn’t they? Was it simply because Lupin held the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, which Harry knew Snape coveted? He considered asking, but Lupin was so obviously a sore spot for Snape, and Harry really didn’t want to start an argument when they were getting along so nicely right now.

“You made the Dementors on the train go away,” he said abruptly.

“There are certain defences one can use,” Lupin said slowly. “But there was only one Dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist -” 

“What defences?” Harry asked eagerly. “Can you teach me?” 

“I don’t pretend to be an expert at fighting Dementors, Harry - quite the contrary -” 

“But if the Dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them!”

“Well … all right,” Lupin agreed haltingly. “I’ll try and help. But it’ll have to wait until next term, I’m afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill.”

Harry grinned. “Thanks, sir.”

After the promise of anti-Dementor lessons, Christmas was upon Hogwarts. The grounds were covered by a brilliant, sparkling frost, Professor Flitwick began the usual business of decorating the castle, and everyone started to discuss Christmas plans. Harry, to his shock, actually found he had some for once, although he hadn’t lended the topic much thought before Draco brought it up with Snape in early December.

“Are we going to return to Spinner’s End for Christmas, Severus?” Draco asked. Harry glanced up from a half-complete drawing of Hedwig in flight, interested.

“No - we’ll be remaining in the castle,” Snape said. “I have Head of House duties to attend to over the holidays. We’ll dine in the Great Hall for Christmas dinner, but otherwise celebrate the occasion amongst ourselves, I think.”

Harry looked between the two of them, and had to fight to hide his shock. He, Harry Potter, actually had Christmas plans. The only time he’d felt this shocked in relation to a holiday was when he’d woken up on Christmas morning two years ago to actually find presents piled at the end of his bed.

Harry felt slightly silly that it hadn’t occurred to him earlier to ask, but Christmas was something of a sore spot for him after years of being excluded by the Dursleys on the actual day. He was forced to slave over the food while Dudley opened piles and piles of presents, wondering why Father Christmas hadn’t bothered to get Harry a thing even though he’d tried extra hard to be good this year…

Harry struggled to push away the residual sting of the memory and looked between Draco and Snape, feeling something akin to wonder. He was actually wanted for Christmas. It made him feel warm all over.

“Not a lot of people are staying this year, you know,” Draco said to Harry. “The whole castle will be empty.”

Harry smiled. “It’ll be fun having it all to ourselves, I think.”

Snape gave them a slightly disapproving look but otherwise didn’t comment. Harry could tell he was darkly imagining the sort of mischief they would be getting up to.

“And we must decorate your quarters, Severus!” Draco said excitedly.

Snape sighed loudly. “Must we?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, nodding vigorously. “We ought to have trees, and tinsel, and garland, and lights…”

“You could definitely do with some Christmas cheer, sir,” Harry said with a smirk.

Snape simply sneered at him in return and shook his head. “Fine. Deface my quarters with your gaudy Christmas nonsense…”

He strode towards his office, a disapproving look on his face.

“D’you reckon we could sneak a carolling suit of armour into his bedroom?” Draco whispered.

“We can use my Invisibility Cloak,” Harry whispered back with a grin.

"I can still hear you!" Snape called, his tones stern and imposing. For some reason, his dramatic disapproval struck Harry as truly hilarious, and he found himself dissolving into fits of laughter with Draco. Every time they tried to stop, one would set the other off again, until Snape threatened to double-dose them both with Calming Draughts if they didn’t stop.

The approaching holidays also brought another Hogsmeade trip, which Harry was yet again excluded from. Ron and Hermione were very excited to do all of their Christmas shopping, while Harry had resigned himself to a day hidden away in some quiet corner of the castle, tucked up under his Invisibility Cloak to avoid unwanted company. He had borrowed a few magazines and catalogues in a vain attempt to try and figure out what on earth he should buy Snape as a Christmas present. Something potion-y? Another pair of black robes? Headphones to block out Harry and Draco’s bickering? He was stumped.

But as Harry went off to find a place to hide away after waving goodbye to Ron and Hermione, he found himself being yanked into an abandoned classroom by none other than Fred and George Weasley.

“We’ve got you an early Christmas present,” George said, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“Oh?” 

Fred dramatically pulled a piece of stained parchment from his cloak and placed it onto a desk. “This, Harry, is the secret to our success.” 

“It’s a wrench, giving it to you,” George said, “but we decided last night, your need’s greater than ours.”

“Anyway, we know it off by heart,’ Fred added. “We bequeath it to you. We don’t really need it any more.” 

“And what do I need with a bit of old parchment?” Harry asked.

“A bit of old parchment!” Fred pressed a hand to his chest and closed his eyes, as if mortally offended. “Let us explain.”

And explain they did. Harry listened with wide eyes as the twins told him the tale of how they’d retrieved this bit of parchment all the way back in their first year and explained how to make it work as a map. Harry stared at the little ink dots beneath the curling calligraphy naming it ‘the Marauders Map’ with fascination. 

After telling Harry about the multiple disused or dysfunctional passages, George pointed to one particular corridor. “This one here leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We’ve used it loads of times. And, as you might’ve noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone’s hump.”

“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs,” sighed George. “We owe them so much.”

“Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers,” Fred said solemnly. 

“Right,” George said briskly, “don’t forget to wipe it after you’ve used it -”

“- or anyone can read it,” Fred warned. 

“Just tap it again and say, ‘Mischief managed!’ And it’ll go blank.”

“So, young Harry,” Fred said in a rather pompous voice, “mind you behave yourself.”

“See you in Honeydukes!” George said cheerfully.

The two of them withdrew from the disused classroom, leaving Harry to stare in wonder at the ink dots moving around on the map before him. He watched Filch pacing back and forth in the Entrance Hall and thought hard. He wouldn’t even have to go past the Dementors this way… he could go right through the tunnel under Honeydukes and join the others…

But then Harry saw the dot labelled Severus Snape in his office and felt his stomach clench. If Snape knew he had disobeyed him and attempted to go into Hogsmeade, then Sirius Black wouldn’t be a problem; he’d murder Harry himself.

But how would Sirius Black even know Harry was in Hogsmeade? There would be dozens of people around - he wouldn’t dare show his face, would he? And besides, Harry would be under the cloak! Black wouldn’t even be able to see him, even if he actually was there! Nothing about this was actually dangerous - Snape was just paranoid. 

But if Snape found out, somehow…

He wouldn’t, Harry assured himself. Snape had a long day of brewing ahead of him - they’d discussed it that morning, since Harry had turned down Snape’s offer for company, wanting to be alone. It was all lined up perfectly - he even had the Invisibility Cloak tucked under his robes. There was no way anybody would find out - he’d only let Ron and Hermione see him, and they certainly wouldn’t tell…

Harry very abruptly stuffed the map into his robes and hurried out of the classroom to the statue of the one-eyed witch. After carefully examining the corridor for potential witnesses and consulting the map to see what he should do, Harry tapped the statue with his wand and whispered, “Dissendium!” 

The statue slid open just enough to reveal a small hole that Harry could squeeze through. He slid down a long chute and landed in a pitch black tunnel. Harry lit his wand, wiped the map clear, and began to walk. He was practically vibrating with excitement and anticipation. This was amazing! He could go to and from Hogsmeade without anyone finding out, so he wouldn’t feel so glum and left out, and Snape would never have to know.

There was a sudden rush of guilt, which Harry did his best to push it away. It was good in the long run for him and Snape, Harry told himself. They kept having terse discussions and all-out arguments when it came to Hogsmeade, and this way, he could get his Hogsmeade fix and be less upset by the forced exclusion!

But this is wrong, a niggling little voice in the back of his head whispered. You know he’s just trying to protect you, and after everything he’s done for you, this is a sorry way to repay him…

But Harry would be perfectly safe…

So why couldn’t he put those guilty thoughts out of his mind?

Harry had managed to just about put most of his thoughts of Snape to one side when the tunnel finally started to even out. He climbed what felt like hundreds of steps until his head smacked into something hard - a trapdoor. 

Harry cautiously poked his head through it and realised he was in a cellar, full of crates and boxes. After carefully checking he was alone, Harry hoisted himself out of the trapdoor, carefully wrapped the Invisibility Cloak around himself, and slipped through the half-open door.

Harry’s face split into a grin as he took in the sights before him. Dozens of students packed the aisles, which were stuffed with all sorts of fun and exciting sweets from Fizzing Whizzbees to Pepper Imps. Harry weaved his way through the crowd, taking care not to bump into anyone, until he found Ron and Hermione bickering over a display of blood-flavoured lollipops. 

“...can’t get him Cockroach Clusters, Ron!” she said exasperatedly.

“Why not? Malfoy could love them, you don’t know…”

“If we’re going to get him presents, then we should do it properly,” Hermione said firmly.

Harry’s jaw dropped. Ron and Hermione were buying Draco gifts? Had he gone through the looking glass somewhere along that tunnel?

Ron was giving Hermione a sceptical look. “I don’t know who you think you are to lecture me about sweets Malfoy would like since you’re buying him Toothflossing Stringmints!”

“They’re tasty!” Hermione protested.

“They stab your gums!”

“Maybe if you actually brushed your teeth properly your gums wouldn’t start hurting so easily,” Hermione said sniffily.

“I don’t know why I bother,” Ron grumbled. “Just get him a block of chocolate, why don’t you?” He craned his neck and scanned the selection with a frown. “But I don’t know what one of these to pick, either…”

“He’s a fan of the salted caramel,” Harry said, sharply prodding Ron’s shoulder through the cloak.

Ron let out a rather undignified shriek, startling a nearby group of Hufflepuff fifth-years, and stared around Honeydukes wildly. “Who’s there?!”

“It’s me,” Harry whispered, pulling the hood of the cloak back enough so that Ron and Hermione could see his face.

Hermione gasped and pressed her gloved hands to her mouth. “Harry? What - how on earth -”

“Did you learn to Apparate?” Ron asked excitedly. 

Harry quickly filled them in on the details of the Marauders Map. Ron immediately became outraged.

“I can’t believe Fred and George didn’t give it to me! I’m their brother!”

“But Harry isn’t going to keep it!” Hermione said. “He’s going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren’t you, Harry?”

Harry scoffed. “No way! Besides, if I hand it in, I’ll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and George nicked it!” 

“But what about Sirius Black?” Hermione hissed. “He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!” 

“He can’t be getting in through a passage,” Harry said quickly. “There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already knows about four of them. And the other three - one of them’s caved in, so no one can get through it. One of them’s got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can’t get out of it. And the one I just came through - well - it’s really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar, so unless he knew it was there…”

Some of Harry’s excitement died away. What if Black did know the passage was there? It would be really irresponsible of him to keep this secret if that was possible…

But Ron quickly pointed to a notice pasted on the inside of the sweetshop door, announcing nightly Dementor patrols of Hogsmeade until further notice. “See? There’s no way he could get in through here! It’s fine, Hermione!” 

“Yes, but -” Hermione pressed her lips together, still clearly trying to find another problem. “Look, Harry still shouldn’t be coming into Hogsmeade, he hasn’t got a signed form! If anyone finds out, he’ll be in so much trouble! Professor Snape would be furious if he knew, Harry!”

He grimaced at the reminder of Snape, and more of the guilty came flooding back, accompanied by no small amount of fear. If the man even got a hint that Harry had done this, he’d be so unbearably furious…

But it was a risk worth taking, in Harry’s opinion. Honeydukes was fabulous, after all. Who knew what the rest of the village held in store?

“He’s not going to find out unless someone reports me,” Harry said firmly. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

“Well - well no, but -”

“He’s even under the cloak, Hermione!” Ron added insistently. “Black won’t see him, and neither will the teachers! It’s fine!” 

Hermione still looked anxious, but before she could speak, Ron began pointing out the various sweets he wanted Harry to try, cutting off any further protests.

After Ron and Hermione paid for their items, they began to show Harry around the various sights of the village, although it was rather difficult for them to actually go anywhere in the snowstorm. The blizzard was also rendering Harry’s Invisibility Cloak a lot less useful than usual. After all, just because nobody could see Harry didn’t mean he wasn’t able to be touched, including by the flurries of snowflakes which kept catching on the surface of his cloak. Random chunks of snow floating in the air was obviously quite suspicious, so Ron and Hermione had to thoroughly brush him down in a sheltered alleyway so they could go into Zonkos without attracting suspicion. While they sorted it out, Harry recognised a familiar head of blonde hair standing opposite to the joke shop, struggling with some sort of odd gadget. It was Draco. An idea suddenly came to him.

“Hang back a second,” Harry whispered, shuffling out of the alleyway and crouching down to pick up a handful of snow.

“Harry, what are you -”

He crept in Draco’s direction under the cloak, ignoring Hermione’s question, and smirked. Once he was close enough to act, Harry pounced. 

“Boo!” He yanked on the back of Draco’s robes and shoved the snow down his back. Draco let out a loud yelp, while Harry stumbled backwards, trying not to laugh audibly.

“Who’s there?” he hissed, head turning around wildly.

Harry just kept laughing to himself and ran back around the corner to Ron and Hermione, who had watched the whole thing. Ron was doubled over with laughter, while Hermione looked worried.

“Harry!” she scolded. “You need to be more careful!” 

“Oh, don’t worry. He didn’t see me!” Harry said, his face aching from smiling so hard.

“Even if he did, that would be so worth it!” Ron chucked. “His face! You two act just like my brothers, you know.”

“What do you mean by that?” Harry laughed.

“Fred and George do that every winter,” Ron said. “It used to drive Charlie spare. One year, he used a spell to stick their tongues to a lamp post in the village and left them there for hours as revenge. Mum went ballistic when she couldn’t find them anywhere!”

“I’d better watch out, then,” Harry said. “That sounds exactly like something Draco would do to get me back if he finds out…”

“Harry, your cloak’s covered in snow again!” Hermione complained, brushing him down with more force than was strictly necessary. “We just wiped it off!” 

“Since it’s so hard to keep you invisible, should we just run into the Three Broomsticks instead and get a drink to warm up?” Ron suggested, rubbing his hands together. “I’m bloody freezing. We can do Zonko’s in a bit.”

“Sure.”

They hurried across the road and entered the crowded inn. It was packed with people, but Harry, Ron and Hermione managed to nab a table in between the crackling fire and a large, splendid Christmas tree. Since it was so crowded, Harry shed his cloak, leaving it in a silvery, damp clump around his waist. While Ron went over to the bar to order drinks for them, Harry turned to Hermione curiously.

“So what’s with you two buying Draco gifts?”

“Oh - well, Ron and I thought it would just be a nice thing to do,” she explained. “I… well, I do feel a bit bad for not accepting his apology back in September, now. After he tried to help you during the match, and after we saw how he was defending you from the Slytherins, I think I’ve really seen a different side to Malfoy. I thought Ron and I could offer a bit of an olive branch, so he knows there’s not any bad blood between us now.”

“That’s brilliant,” Harry said. He grinned. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. Besides, you can’t go wrong with chocolate… or Toothflossing Stringmints, I suppose.”

Hermione laughed.

Ron returned to their table, carrying three brimming tankards of Butterbeer which he distributed amongst them.

“Happy Christmas!” Ron said cheerfully, raising his tankard.

Harry took a long gulp, and suddenly remembered a long-ago conversation with Draco at Spinner’s End where he’d excitedly told Harry about Butterbeer, claiming it to be the greatest drink ever invented. At the time, Harry had doubted him, but he now knew Draco hadn’t been exaggerating in the slightest. It was delicious, sugary, and warmed Harry to the tips of his toes.

He was just about to take another sip when an icy breeze ruffled his hair; the pub’s door had opened. Harry had just enough time to register the signature lime-green bowler hat of Minister Fudge when Ron and Hermione both reached over and firmly shoved him under the table. Harry snatched his Invisibility Cloak off the chair and hurriedly threw it over himself but remained crouched while Minister Fudge, Hagrid, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick took seats at the table right by them.

As the four of them were joined by Madam Rosmerta, Harry felt his heart pounding in his throat. That had been a dangerously close call. If he’d been caught by any of them out in Hogsmeade, the trouble would be unimaginable. Harry really needed to sneak out of the pub when he had the chance…

But moments before he could crawl out from beneath the table, Madam Rosmerta said the words that changed everything. 

“Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here - ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!”

Harry made a choking noise, and Ron kicked him. Harry stopped trying to get out from beneath the table and remained crouched in place, listening. His father had been friends with Sirius Black?! How had nobody ever ended up mentioning that to him before?

And as the conversation continued, Harry decided it couldn’t hurt to stay for a few more minutes and listen in. He wanted to find out more about what they knew, anyway…

But the more he heard, the more it made Harry wish he’d escaped the pub while he had the chance.

“You’d have thought Black and Potter were brothers! Inseparable!”

“...Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry - Harry has no idea, of course.”

“You-Know-Who wasn’t an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm - an immensely complicated spell…”

“So Black was the Potters’ Secret Keeper?”

“Naturally…”

“...Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seemed to have planned this for the moment of the Potters’ death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter…”

“What if I’d given Harry to him, eh? I bet he’d’ve pitched him off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes’ friend’s son!”

“Unfortunately, it was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew - another of the Potters’ friends.”

“He went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens…”

“I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him…”

“Is it true he’s mad, Minister?”

“I wish I could say that he was… I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark, there’s no sense in them… but I was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving…”

“Good gracious, Minister, he isn’t trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?”

“I daresay that is his - er - eventual plan… we hope to catch him long before then, of course…”

When the five of them at last dispersed, Harry felt cold all over. His ears were ringing strangely, and he didn’t notice Ron or Hermione calling his name until Ron shook him. He surfaced from beneath the table, legs weak and wobbly.

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione asked worriedly.

“I - I need to go,” he stammered.

“Harry - “

He pulled the cloak more tightly around himself and disappeared into the flurry of snow. His head was pounding, his entire body was shaking, and his mind was buzzing from the information he’d just overheard.

Why had nobody ever told him? Dumbledore, Hagrid, Mr Weasley, Professor McGonagall, Snape. Why hadn’t Snape ever bothered to mention the fact that Harry’s parents had died because their best friend had betrayed them? 

Why had everybody kept this from Harry?

Snape definitely knew. Harry suddenly recalled their conversation from the night he'd been upset over the Dementors - Snape had mentioned a man who had betrayed his parents' location, hadn't he? At the time, Harry hadn't given it much thought - he'd been otherwise occupied - but now, he realised just who Snape had been referring to. Sirius Black.

Snape had definitely known, and he'd chosen to keep it from Harry, knowing he hated secrets, knowing that Harry had every right to know who had murdered his mother and father -

He felt so angry and upset that he thought he would be sick. Hatred and fury was coursing through Harry, setting his blood on fire. He ground his back teeth as he marched his way through Hogsmeade, wishing he could punch a wall or something. Anything to dissipate the heavy weight of the outrage pounding in his chest…

Harry was so distracted that he didn't register the crunch of footsteps through snow until the person running up behind Harry snatched the Invisibility Cloak from his body before harshly grabbing him by the collar. Harry was whirled around and found his face mere inches away from a truly livid Snape. He felt something inside of him wither. How had Snape found out he was here? Harry had been so careful! Nobody had seen him but Ron and Hermione!

And then, Harry finally realised what he’d overlooked. It had been so many months now that Harry had forgotten the slight, subtle pressure of the silver bangle around his wrist.

Snape had a tracker on him. 

Harry would rather face a hundred Dementors than experience the oncoming explosion of fury Snape was surely about to unleash upon him.