Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Vindication

Chapter 49

Vindication

xxx

Harry sat quietly in between his friends on the common room couch, his head tilted back and eyes closed. Today was day seven of his detentions with Severus, and he hoped it would be his last.

As little as Harry cared to admit it, standing up to his Father was emotionally taxing. Yet, he knew that if he continued to let Severus treat him like a child, the man would never realize he had grown up. Harry was expected to lay his life on the line for the greater good; he thought he at least deserved to be treated like a man while he did it.

This was the message that he couldn't seem to get through to Severus. He knew he had been rash at times, but he was trying his best to remain calm throughout the process. He hadn't been late to a detention yet. He had sat and done homework diligently during every one, resolutely ignoring his Father. Certainly, he had lost his temper a time or two… but, as far as he was concerned, he was passively resisting.

Severus, however, did not seem to see it that way. No, his detentions were getting worse as time went on. Just yesterday, Harry had been forced to sort salamander parts for upwards of two hours. The problem was, these punishments only made him more and more angry. He was too infuriated to even speak to the man; he simply didn't trust himself. It was irrational.

"Harry? Are you awake?"

Opening his eyes, Harry rolled his head to the side and stared at Hermione, who was watching him expectantly.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, grimacing.

"It's fine," Harry sighed, sitting forward and ruffling his messy black hair.

"Are you leaving soon?" Hermione asked, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"In a moment," grumbled Harry, standing up and straightening his clothes. He turned away from Hermione's inquisitive eyes; his friends knew he had fought with Snape, but there was only so much Harry could tell them. Despite his anger, he was keeping everything a secret until his Father told him to do otherwise. He had no desire to incur his wrath any further. "I'm not sure how many more of these I can put up with."

"Yes, it certainly does seem unfair…" Hermione hedged delicately.

"It's bullshit, mate," Ron cut in bluntly from his place on the floor.

Both Harry and Ron looked to Hermione for her reaction, but she merely cocked her head and shrugged one shoulder. "So," Hermione said, looking as though she were struggling with herself, "what are you going to do about it?"

Immediately, Ron and Harry looked to each other. Ron's face cracked into a grin.

"You there—don't get any fancy ideas," Harry said seriously, although he was admittedly cheered by his friend's reaction. "Although, Hermione," he said, turning back to her, "what did you have in mind?"

"I haven't anything specific," Hermione offered, her eyes off somewhere far away. "But it seems to me that if Professor Snape is being unfair, someone slightly more impartial needs to intervene."

Her tone was somewhat suggestive, and Harry eyed her inquisitively. "You?"

"Of course not," said Hermione at once. "But I'm certain you could think of someone."

"Ah," said Harry, and he looked back to Ron. "Yes, I suppose I could."

"You've got an hour before your detention, mate," Ron said helpfully, exchanging glances with Hermione, who nodded.

Although Harry felt as though the idea had been planted in his mind, it suddenly seemed like something he should have thought of long ago.

"Thanks, guys," Harry said as he turned and left the common room. With only an hour to go until his hopefully final detention, he needed to hurry.

The stone gargoyle sat stubbornly in front of Dumbledore's office, refusing to yield to Harry as he tried multiple passwords.

It had been a very long time since Harry had sought Dumbledore's council. After the rather dramatic beginning to his sixth year, Harry had kept him at a distance. He supposed it was the lack of trust that had intervened whenever the urge to visit the old man struck.

Now, however, without his Father to turn to and with his friends unable to help him, Harry realized that he needed someone to listen to him. Dumbledore had always been willing to do at least that.

By the eighth tried-and-failed password, Harry was becoming impatient. With the clock ticking by until his detention—the detention that determined all subsequent detentions, or preferably, lack thereof—Harry needed to get into the office.

"Must I beg?" Harry asked rhetorically, staring exasperatedly at the statue, as though it was a person. "Please? With cherries on top?" Grumbling, he kicked the statue in frustration.

To Harry's surprise, the statue finally budged…and kept on going. As the staircase unraveled, inviting him upstairs, Harry's jaw dropped in surprise. Who would have known that all he needed was a more persuasive approach?

When Harry reached the top of the stairs and knocked on Dumbledore's office door, the response was almost immediate. The door unlatched and swung slowly open; Harry peered around the heavy oak door; seeing Dumbledore's inviting smile across the room, he stepped inside.

"Harry," Dumbledore greeted him pleasantly from his place in front of the fireplace. He looked genuinely happy to see him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I just wondered if I might speak to you about some things that have been bothering me," Harry said, getting down to the point.

"Yes, yes," said Dumbledore more somberly now, moving to his desk. Taking his cue from the Headmaster, Harry followed suit. "I remember last week you found yourself in a spot of trouble."

"Yes, I guess so…" Harry said; he realized he was not starting this conversation on equal footing. The Headmaster had already witnessed his defiance not even a week earlier. "That's actually what I wanted to speak to you about, sir."

Dumbledore tilted his head to the side and waited patiently for Harry to explain.

"I've had to attend detention every day for the past week, sir."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I am unable to change your Father's mind, you understand."

"I know," Harry responded. "I just think that maybe, if you talked to him, he might see things differently."

"Harry," said Dumbledore, looking concerned. "Severus will not tolerate my interference with his parenting. I am of course here to offer you support and advice, but I cannot intervene. Surely you realize this."

What had at first seemed a wonderful idea now seemed like a futile effort to fix his problems. Harry hung his head in discouragement.

"I don't know what to do," he said softly. "I have always made my own decisions. I have always taken control of my own problems. But now… well, I can't take control of this particular problem."

"Perhaps you do not need control, so much as understanding," offered Dumbledore gently.

"I can't make him understand," Harry scoffed.

"That is because no one can make your Father do anything. But perhaps if you asked."

"Sir?"

"Your Father values respect above all things, Harry. It is the thing he lacked for so long in his life, and it sometimes rules him. He will never allow himself to acquiesce to your seeming demands. He has too much pride."

"Yes, that's the problem," said Harry cynically.

"It is not to say that I sympathize with that nature," said Dumbledore matter of factly. "But it is part of him, immutable. You can have control of your own life if only you learn how to show him respect. I think you will find a far more rational side to the Potions Master, if you can manage that."

"Yes, but Headmaster—" Harry started to say; he stopped abruptly as Dumbledore rose from behind his desk. As he began to move back to the fireplace, Harry whirled around in his chair. "What are you doing?"

"I was speaking to your Father just this morning, Harry, and after conversing with you, I believe it would be helpful to call him here."

"Please don't," Harry said immediately, instantaneously nauseated at the thought of having to face his Father at the moment. He would be so upset that Harry had gone to Dumbledore.

"The only way you two will manage to overcome your differences is if you acknowledge them," said Dumbledore sagely; there was sympathy in his expression. When Harry still did not agree, he added, "It will only replace the detention you are due for this evening."

Sighing, Harry nodded grimly. He doubted he could stop the Headmaster from telling his Father he had visited, either way—at least this way, he could explain himself. He turned back around and buried his head in his hands, nervously ruffling his hair while waiting for the flare of the fireplace to signal Severus' arrival.

"Severus?" came Dumbledore's voice from behind Harry; a moment passed before the Headmaster pulled out and closed the connection. Next, "Professor McGonagall, would you please find Severus and tell him to come to my office? Tell him the password is 'cherries'."

Ah, Harry thought. Of course.

After a moment, Dumbledore had returned to the desk in front of him.

"I hope you are not upset," Dumbledore said after a few minutes had passed. His voice was genuine, as though he did not necessarily feel anxious, but rather wanted Harry to see the positive side of this situation.

In the moment, that was a little bit difficult.

Harry was not truly upset; he was more nervous than anything. What would his Father think when he got here? Would he be angry at the ambush? Would he resent Dumbledore's interference?

Harry did not need to wait very long. It had been barely ten minutes when a hard knock pounded against the door. A jolt ripped through Harry's abdomen; adrenaline pumped through his veins, but he did not react outwardly. He held his breath, unaware of anything else but the sound of the door opening and the subsequent slow-falling footsteps moving towards him.

Harry stared down at his hands as he felt his Father's presence next to his side. After hovering over him for a moment, Severus sat in the chair next to him and stared straight ahead.

"Headmaster," he said stiffly, and then went silent, awaiting an explanation for his summons.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry evaluated his Father's hard profile. His features were drawn tight and his posture was rigid. Attempting to quell his anxiety, Harry straightened his shoulders and sat forward on his chair, looking ahead to Dumbledore, who returned his gaze with sympathy.

"I fear, Severus," started Dumbledore, authority in his voice, "that you and your son are in dire need of a conversation. I hope you will forgive me the intrusion, but I hoped that by calling Harry and yourself here, that might finally occur. I, however, will keep my own opinions to myself, true to my word, Severus."

Something like a growl escaped Severus, thankfully covering the sound of Harry's sigh of relief.

"Perhaps you should start, Harry," said Dumbledore, cutting Severus off before he had even had the chance to complain.

"Yes," said Harry, clearing his throat as a way of stalling. He knew he should be glad for the chance to get the first word, but he was utterly unprepared. "You see…" he stammered, and then cleared his throat again.

Severus' face was relatively impassive, but the look in his eyes as he stared back at the struggling boy was unforgiving.

Shaking off his nerves once more, Harry started again. "I understand why you are upset with me," Harry finally said with success, and when Severus' expression didn't darken, he felt as though he'd begun on the right foot. "But I don't think you understand why I am upset with you. And that's the part that's unfair."

Severus immediately opened his mouth to respond, but Dumbledore interjected, "Severus, perhaps you should hear what he has to say before reacting."

Severus nodded perfunctorily. "Very well," he said shortly.

"It seems like you always expect the worst from me. It's as though every time I take a step, you hold your breath, thinking I'm about to ruin everything. You don't take into account that sometimes, my intentions aren't what you think they are."

"And you don't take into account," said Severus, apparently unable to hold back, "that even if you don't intend to 'ruin everything', it is yet a constant possibility. You expect me to sit back and watch you cut a path of destruction through everything we've worked for?"

"We've worked for, or you?" snapped Harry. Already, his anger was mounting. "When was the last time that I decided our course of action? When was the last time I had a say in my future?"

"There is only one way to defeat the Dark Lord!"

"And that's my only purpose, isn't it?"

At this, both Harry and Snape stared at each other, each party speechless. Each breathed heavily, seething, as they waited for each other's responses. Finally, Severus spoke.

"How dare you insinuate that I do not care for you?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "I have risked everything for you."

"For me? Or for yourself? There seems to be only one thing you are concerned with."

"Do you think that defeating the Dark Lord is just a whim of mine? Just a flight of fancy that I hope to achieve by using you? You do realize, the only way you can survive is by his destruction. I have done everything I can to see that accomplished."

"Yes, so you can see that accomplished—"

"Because I love you, Harry. When will you get it through that thick skull of yours?"

Harry fell silent. Unsure how to respond to that, he looked back down at his lap. It seemed somehow unfair that Severus could use this sentiment as a weapon; Harry felt suddenly guilty, in a way he hadn't felt all week.

"Did you hear me, Harry?" asked Severus again; Harry was surprised he wasn't backing down out of discomfort. "I realize that this is the hardest thing you will need to accomplish in your life. I see the importance of it. And I understand that you sometimes feel helpless; what you need to understand is that it is my responsibility to see you through this. I am sorry that I take that too seriously for your tastes."

"I think what your Father is trying to express," cut in Dumbledore, "is that he is acting out of a desire to protect you."

Though he lifted his eyes in annoyance, Severus also inclined his head in assent.

"And I think that what you intended to express," Dumbledore continued to address Harry, "is that perhaps you require a little more autonomy."

"And trust," added Harry, and Severus raised his eyebrows in surprise. Rather than responding, however, he merely turned his attention back to the Headmaster.

"If you are satisfied with the results of your little experiment, I wonder if I might go and have a word in private with my son." His tone was even, but Harry was not fooled. There was ire lurking there, Harry was sure of it.

A part of Harry hoped, as he rose to follow Severus, that they would take the long way to his office so that he would not have to face him right away. However, as he reached for a fistful of floo powder and looked at Harry expectantly, Harry realized that he wouldn't have that luxury, today. Severus motioned for him to step through first, and Harry did so without contest.

It was only moments later that Harry stood in Snape's private rooms, awaiting his arrival. After a minute passed and he had not come, however, Harry sank into one of the chairs, head in his hands. Whatever version of his Father was about to emerge from the fireplace, he was certain it would not be a happy one.

xxx

Glittering black eyes met with those of brilliant blue, and a tacit understanding was finally reached. The message Dumbledore had been trying to communicate since Severus' and Harry's altercation the prior week finally seemed to make sense.

The gentle approach was not Severus' preferred method of dealing with sulking adolescents. He normally preferred to use a heavier hand. Yet, it now seemed that Dumbledore's reasoning for doing the opposite might have more substance to it than Severus had previously admitted. He had not needed to concede anything, and already Harry was far more pliant to his will.

Well, perhaps that was the wrong term to describe his lately querulous son. Even with the Imperius curse at work, pliant would be a stretch for that boy. But he had certainly calmed considerably. Yet, Severus had not needed to sacrifice his pride.

For once, it was possible that Dumbledore's hare-brained scheme had worked in Severus' favor…not that he would admit to any such thing.

"This was a rather bold move on your part, Headmaster," Severus said as he stepped closer to the fireplace, preparing to leave. He couldn't leave Harry unattended for longer than a moment, or he would be running rampant with jumped conclusions again. However, he could neither leave the Headmaster's presence without giving him a few choice words. Coldly, he said, "I thought we had already discussed your interference."

"Yes, and I hope you can forgive me," Dumbledore said, shaking his head as if at his own antics. "I can be terribly meddlesome, I fear."

"You do not fear enough," grumbled Severus as he climbed into the fireplace. He glanced over his shoulder at the Headmaster, who looked quite pleased with himself. He appeared entirely unaffected by the reprimand.

"I upheld my word," said Dumbledore simply. "I did not orchestrate anything other than the conversation you already promised you would have with him. It seems I am not the only one unable to keep my entire word, Severus."

With no grounds to stand on for criticizing the Headmaster, Severus suddenly found himself at an uncharacteristic loss for words. Unable to find a fitting response, he merely glared at the Headmaster as his body erupted into green flames.

"Private Quarters of Severus Snape," he spat as though it were an insult, before disappearing from Dumbledore's view.

xxx

When the Potions Master finally stepped out of the fireplace in his quarters, unfolding his long body to rise to his intimidating height, Harry suspected that he had lingered for a moment with a few choice words for Dumbledore. Snape mentioned nothing of the sort, but rather gestured for Harry to take a seat. While Harry expected Snape to do the same, the dark man began pacing in front of the fireplace. His steps were slow and deliberate, and he drummed his fingers against each other as though he were contemplating his next move.

"I suspect…" Severus began after a period of deliberation. Harry held his breath; he knew that Dumbledore's plan had been doomed to fail. He wasn't sure why he had gone along with it. "There is much more to this situation than you have presented."

Harry remained quiet; he wasn't sure if he should immediately confess, or if he should deny it with all the strength he possessed.

"I hope that without the Headmaster here to interfere, you might speak more freely."

Harry instantly opened his mouth to defend himself; yet, when he finally heard the words that Severus had spoken, he realized there was no need.

Was it possible that this had worked? Was it possible that his Father had merely lacked understanding of what Harry was going through? Dumbfounded, he stared at his Father.

"I still do not approve of your actions this past week," Severus said with a rather stern glare. "And you should consider yourself lucky that the Headmaster sheltered you from my further displeasure, today. However, I have not enjoyed being at odds with you any more than you have. If you feel that the problem is that I do not listen to you, I am giving you this opportunity to speak your mind."

With this, Severus sat, folding his hands and placing them neatly atop his knees. His eyes were watchful as he awaited Harry's response.

Though a moment of hesitation ensued, when Harry finally found the words to speak, it seemed as though he couldn't stop. It took quite some time for Harry to explain the events of the prior week from his point of view, but when he finally finished, he felt as though he had been stripped of the anger that had controlled him for so long. Dumbledore had not been so far from the truth; by acknowledging their differences, perhaps he and his Father could mend what had been broken.

Now, thought Harry, if only he could get his Father to share this sentiment. The wizened man sat across from him, looking deep in thought—his expression had not changed in some time now.

Harry fought the recurring inclination to pester Severus for a response. He normally would have been grateful merely for the fact that he was not being shouted at; not even a gentle reprimand had come his way since he had started speaking. However, his Father's stoicism was often far more intimidating than any shouting could be. He could not help but wonder what that meant for him.

At last, Severus spoke.

"I believe I have identified the problem," he stated, sitting erect and uncrossing his arms. He placed his palms on the sides of the chair with his body positioned forward; with his hair falling into his face, he somehow looked far more intimidating than he had while apparently contemplating Harry's fate.

Severus continued without prompt. "You and I apparently disagree on which problem we are dealing with."

Harry blinked once, and replied blankly, "...I'm fairly certain we're talking about the same situation."

"No," Severus objected. "I have been listening to you; you speak of the events prior to our encounter in the hospital wing. I have labored under the assumption that our greatest problems originated during that encounter."

"So, to be clear," Harry started perplexedly, "You think the greatest problem is that you didn't realize I was angry before our fight?"

"Of course I realized you were," said Severus. "But I think you are using the problems we were dealing with then to explain your actions now. This is where we fail to communicate. All this week, you have been trying to fight a battle that started long ago. I have been angered by your lack of respect after a completely rash act. We have been antagonizing each other."

"I've just felt I couldn't do anything to make you listen."

Severus' eyes narrowed as though he suspected an insult lurked there. He settled on replying evenly, "As a private individual, I do not often discuss my feelings with others. I suppose I have neglected that aspect of your personality."

Harry was not entirely sure how to interpret that, but he decided that he'd rather not discuss it.

"So, now what?" asked Harry, having honestly no idea how to proceed. Though he was glad that everything was now out in the open, he did not have great confidence in his Father to suddenly see things his way.

"I will lift your punishment," replied Severus slowly, watching his son's reaction. When Harry simply continued to wait, Severus went on. "But I am only doing so because you have reached the end of your week, and I believe you have effectively served your sentence. This neither means that I regret my actions, nor that I approve of yours. I expect you to begin acting like the adult you presume to be treated as. If you do not, you may be certain that this punishment will seem like a week's stay in paradise. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes…" said Harry definitively. There was certainly no room for misunderstanding; however, he wanted to make sure he was clear, also. "And will you consider the things I have said?"

Severus appeared to struggle with himself for a moment; he didn't seem to want to relent. "I hope," he began neutrally, "that you will learn to take advantage of having a Father who has already made most of the mistakes one can make in life. I can only help you as much as you let me. I will consider the things you have said, of course. However, I think you should realize there is value in my instruction."

"It's not that I don't…" replied Harry. "I just don't think you see any value in my judgments. I wish you would place more trust in me."

"I wish you would earn it."

The bite of Severus' tone stung Harry, but when he looked up at his Father's face, he could see he had not meant it as a barb. He appeared to be speaking honestly.

"It will not be long before your seventeenth birthday, Harry. There are a number of possibilities ahead," said Severus, and Harry nodded in agreement. "This has not escaped me. However, you must start acting the part. If you are to be treated like an adult, you are to act like one. That is my only stipulation."

"Fair," said Harry slowly, as though he were contemplating the terms of his surrender. "But you should realize that sometimes, I think I am acting like an adult and you are overreacting."

"Don't be foolish, Harry," his Father warned. Do not test my patience is what his Father implied. Harry understood this implicitly, even though it had not been said out loud.

"You must earn my respect one day at a time," Severus was saying now. "But I will make a greater effort to communicate with you."

"And to the matter of Malfoy…"

Harry knew he was pushing his boundaries, but he hoped that his Father would allow it. As expected, Severus looked as though he were debating how to answer.

"Harry, I am not so naïve," Severus said at length, eyebrow twitching upward in exasperation. "You seem to think I have fallen into some trap Malfoy has carefully laid for me."

Harry did not respond verbally, but his expression was affirmative; Severus scoffed.

"As far as I'm concerned, Malfoy has always held an unnatural amount of persuasion over you," Harry remarked.

"Excuse me?" Snape responded in a low, deadly tone.

"I just mean," said Harry, becoming flustered now, "He has always been one of your favorite students, even though he's a prat, and—"

"Harry…"

Harry hated when his Father used his name as a warning. The implicit threat that his first name carried whenever his Father uttered it in that low baritone never failed to send shivers up his spine. It somehow was even more personal than when he had done the same to the word 'Potter'.

"Sorry," Harry said to quell his Father's anger, sounding defeated. "Let me try again."

"Spare me," muttered Severus dryly, rolling his eyes, and Harry realized he meant that literally. "You understand that I act only out of necessity, Harry. I know you comprehend that fact when you are using the rational, mature part of your brain. However, the side of you that comes out when you are striving for attention and fighting the plague of jealousy is not at all flattering. I have never cared for Malfoy more than any other Slytherin. It has always been my relationship with his Father and my precarious position that dictated my behavior. Even now, I act on my own agenda…not because Malfoy has made me his minion."

"But I don't trust him—"

"And that is wise," Severus hissed. "Incidentally, neither do I. I do not trust anyone. You never need fear that I wrongly believe the best in someone."

The harshness in Severus' voice as he spat the last words caused Harry to unconsciously press back against his chair a bit; he remained quiet as Severus continued.

"Malfoy has given us what Kinnaird never could. His immediate access to the Dark Lord is a greater stroke of luck than you could ever imagine. The Dark Lord chose him; he does not think that Draco would betray him. Not when he has promised him unimaginable power; he doesn't realize that the young Malfoy is far more cunning than his own Father."

"Yes," said Harry in a low voice, "but that is what makes him so untrustworthy. He's been raised by great manipulators; he now surpasses even their skill. How can you be certain he is not manipulating you?"

"It goes both ways, Harry. Malfoy should realize how limited my range for sympathy is; his efforts to manipulate my affections are wasted on me. However, he is still young; you might be surprised how my support can sway his loyalties far better than the Headmaster's can."

"Is that why you still haven't told Dumbledore everything that's happened?"

Severus hesitated before answering; it was as though he were trying to decipher the intent with which Harry had made the statement before responding. "Once Dumbledore realizes what Malfoy has provided us with, he will see it as vulnerability on Draco's part. He will see it as an opportunity to sway his loyalties once and for all. However, I fear that this will only repel the boy. I must have some time to work on him, before this happens. I will tell the Headmaster soon, but for now, I must have time. I am not deceptive for the joy of it; I act as the situation requires."

A very Slytherin answer, Harry observed. "But then, how can you be upset with me for acting as think a situation requires?" Harry asked carefully.

Rather than reacting with the derision Harry had momentarily expected, Severus instead appeared to mull over this question for a few moments.

"Harry, I realize that you are simply acting in a way that comes naturally to you," said Severus, more gently now. "What I would ask you to consider is that the inclination to rely solely on your own judgment is no longer a necessary adaptation. You are not alone, anymore."

In a way, Harry could see the wisdom in these words. He did have a habit of acting without guidance, simply because that had become habit over his many years without a parental figure in his life. And while he was at the age when he should be making many of his own decisions, he realized he was not the average adolescent. The decisions he had to make were much heavier than those of the average young wizard.

On the other hand, Harry knew that this was the argument that kept his Father continually treating him like a child.

"Why didn't you just tell me in the first place that you didn't trust him?" asked Harry, shifting the subject back to the topic he most wished to discuss. "I would have been much happier to know you agreed with me, but instead you made me believe otherwise. Why?"

"I did not want to reinforce your already negative opinions of a potential ally," explained Severus with ease. "I did not confide my doubts in you because I was trying to allay yours. A mistake, perhaps."

Harry could feel his Father's eyes on him even as he shifted his own to the ground. It was not long before Severus spoke again.

"It has been a long day. Perhaps it would be best to put this topic to bed, along with yourself."

Mentally fatigued and still reeling from the stress of the day's events, Harry was quick to comply.

At the door, Harry looked back at Severus. "Talk tomorrow?" He asked tentatively.

Lips quirking just slightly, Severus' only response was a slow nod.

"Ok," said Harry, glad that the man's demeanor was finally warming up. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, Harry."

xxx

The dim light of early morning pried Harry's eyes open, pulling him from a deep slumber. On the edge of consciousness, he yawned sleepily and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, refusing to fully awaken. He rolled peacefully on to his side, away from the window and into his pillow, and sleep beckoned him back.

Harry.

The voice was a hushed whisper, barely registering in Harry's insensible brain. Harry smacked his lips against the stickiness of his morning mouth, and snuggled deeper under the covers.

Harry!

The voice was closer now; a more insistent version of the same hushed tones.

Harry groaned and pulled the covers over his head. Finally, he began to drift back into the deep sleep he so desperately required.

"Harry!" The voice hissed one last time, before a shadow at the edge of his mind appeared in his hazy vision, reaching out and striking him on the arm.

Abruptly, Harry bolted upright in his bed, and promptly smacked his head on something hard and impenetrable. His exclamation was a howl of pain, immediately met with a response.

"Bloody hell!" barked the voice in the dark, as a tall, loping figure staggered backwards from his bed. Harry squinted into the dim light of the dormitory.

"Ron?" he asked in confusion, as it became apparent that the impenetrable force with which his head had unfortunately met was in fact the very thick skull of his redheaded friend.

"Shut up!" a cross voice grumbled from another bed within the dormitory. Harry shook his head, blinking the blurriness from his sight. Rubbing his forehead in agony, he stared up at Ron, who was still hovering over his bed, muttering profanities and doing the same. He watched him in confusion for a moment, before Ron reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him from the bed and leading him out of the dormitory.

"Ron, what in hell—" Harry was growling in protest as the other boy shut the door behind him. Harry shivered against the cool air of Gryffindor tower, staring down at his bare feet, peeking out from the trouser legs of his maroon pajamas. Looking over at his friend, he saw that he was already dressed. He frowned confusedly. "It's barely five in the morning…"

"You won't care, when you hear what I have to say," Ron said forebodingly, beckoning him to follow down the stairs to the common room. There, Hermione sat waiting with anticipation on the couch.

"Well, what is it then? And why are you two already dressed?" asked Harry grumpily, folding himself tiredly into the chair across from Hermione. The glowing fire nearby warmed him. He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his chin there, eyes attempting to flutter closed even in the brightly lit common room.

"We never got undressed, Harry," said Hermione in a hushed voice, her eyes darting about the room.

"We followed Malfoy tonight, Harry," said Ron seriously, and Harry nearly leapt from his chair.

"What?" he gasped, turning an accusatory stare on Hermione. This was so out of character, for her.

Hermione seemed to read the recrimination in Harry's eyes loud and clear. She shrunk down in her chair and grimaced. "I wanted to go get Dumbledore!" Hermione objected, splaying her hands out helplessly. "But Ron wouldn't come with me, he was going to go alone, and I didn't want something to happen to him…" she excused feebly. "And then, once we had discovered where he was going, he almost caught us, and we had to climb a tree, and then we couldn't leave or we would give ourselves away, and—"

"Never mind that," said Ron impatiently, effectively hushing Hermione, whose head was cradled in her hands now. "The important thing is what we learned—"

"Ron, what are you doing following him? You have no idea how dangerous he could be! Where did you go?"

"He went to meet Lucius Malfoy, Harry."

"Well, that is his Father, after all…"

"Snuck out of the castle in the middle of the night and went down the forest to see him," said Ron as though Harry had never spoken. "We wouldn't have been there, except we were visiting Hagrid—"

At the betrayed look on Harry's face, Hermione quickly explained, "We only went without you because you were with Professor Snape so late—"

"On our way back, we saw Malfoy leaving the castle, so we moved to the shadows of the tree line, hoping to see where he was going—"

"Of course, he was heading right towards us; we realized too late."

"But he walked straight past us, he barely even noticed." The pride in Ron's voice was unmistakable; Harry privately thought that he was a little too proud of his luck, but said nothing. He was eager to hear the resolution to this story.

"Ron, calm down. Hermione, what happened from there?"

Ron scowled sourly; Hermione swallowed, took a deep breath, and picked up from where Ron had left off. She spoke in purposeful, calm tones, choosing her words carefully.

"Once we were clear of Malfoy, I wanted to go back to the castle," said Hermione, aiming a dark look Ron's way. "However, as I mentioned before, Ron was already set on following him. To shorten a rather long story, by the time we'd caught up to him, we were in the worst place we could hope to be—right between him and his Father. The only place to go was up."

Ron, apparently impatient, began speaking again. "Harry, I'm prepared to go to Snape tomorrow and show him what we saw, if it will make him believe that Malfoy is not trustworthy—"

"No!" Harry protested quickly, and both Ron and Hermione stared at him with shocked expressions.

"Harry, I thought you wanted him to understand your feelings toward Malfoy—"

"Never mind that," deflected Harry. "What did you overhear?"

The apprehensive look that Hermione aimed at Ron, and the grave one that Ron returned worried Harry. Neither spoke for a moment, and Harry said insistently, "Tell me!"

"Malfoy told his dad that he had Snape wrapped around his finger," Ron said solemnly; his expression was as serious as Harry had ever seen it. "He wasn't lying, Harry."

"What exactly did he say?" demanded Harry. The authority in his tone was more than Hermione and Ron were used to. Both fell silent, seemingly unable to respond. Becoming increasingly irritated, he barked, "Tell me!"

Visibly shaken by Harry's increasing anger, Hermione answered him. "He said…" she responded softly, pausing for a moment, and then continuing, "He said, 'I told Snape everything as you instructed. That boy will no longer be a problem; the Professor will see to that.'"

Still not satisfied, Harry said in the same tone, "And what else?"

Hermione shook her head and looked down at her hands. Her eyes slanted sideways to Ron, who was staring at her with a determined look in his eye.

"Let him have it, Hermione," prompted Ron, but still she didn't respond.

At her failure to speak, Ron turned back to Harry. "He told him that Snape had promised to keep his secrets from you, Harry."

"That's impossible."

"He said, 'Snape knows my loyalty hangs in the balance. He won't jeopardize that, even if it means deceiving Dumbledore's golden boy.' What exactly do you think that means, Harry?"

"Harry," said Hermione softly, chewing on her lip as she waited for his acknowledgement. His eyes flew to her, although the rest of his body remained still. "Of course Professor Snape would never betray you intentionally, but if you had heard the way Malfoy was talking about him…"

"My Father is not an idiot," said Harry. He wished he could simply tell his friends what was going on; he felt like he was lying to them, even when he was only doing ask he had been asked. "What else did he say?"

"He was so vague, it's hard to say," said Hermione. "It sounded as though they were trying to find a way for Malfoy to sneak out of the school more easily, though. As if they were planning a place to convene close enough to the school that he could slip out at any time."

"We'll have to keep an eye on him," said Ron decisively.

"We'll have to be careful," said Harry; Ron's expression was one of perplexity. "I'm serious, Ron. My Father will put a stop to this right quick if he gets wind of it. You must promise not to breathe a word to him. We'll keep an eye on Malfoy… but we have to be smart about it. Understand?"

"I wish you could have been there, Harry," said Ron. He shook his head, as though he though Harry did not understand the magnitude of the situation. "I thought you wanted Snape to understand why he was wrong to trust Malfoy…"

"I did!"

"You did," Ron repeated. "And then what, Harry? Snape once again manipulated you into seeing things his way?"

"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione.

"What, Hermione? He's not supposed to use his own head, anymore? He's just supposed to abide by every rule Snape's set for him?"

"He clearly cares for Harry, Ron, he wouldn't do anything to deliberately harm him."

"Not deliberately, no," agreed Ron. "But we know he won't listen to Harry, so maybe it's time we stepped in. It's our duty to support our friend, Hermione. Harry, if you won't listen to us, and Snape won't listen to you—"

"Enough," said Harry, standing and effectively blocking Ron's gaze, which was locked on Hermione. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"But, Harry—"

"Listen, it's not that I'm ungrateful," Harry placated him. "It's just that I'm already in hot water; I can't afford another mistake. We'll watch him, alright? We'll watch him like a hawk. But we will not tell my Father anything about it, okay?"

"Harry, as much as I hate to agree with Ron," said Hermione, and Ron snorted before she continued, "He's right. We've got to go to Snape with this. Wouldn't that be better than handling it on your own?"

"Maybe," responded Harry, wishing his friends would quit badgering him. "But right now, it's too early to do anything, and," he added, pointedly to Hermione, "we have double potions in the morning. Don't you want to get some sleep?"

Hermione sighed reluctantly and rose from the couch. The purple tinged skin under her eyes hinted at her exhaustion; it was clear that she didn't have the compunction to continue arguing.

Ron, however, was not budging. "Harry," he said, almost pleading, "When did you stop listening to your instincts? They weren't so bad, mate. You know you've got to act on this."

"My instincts haven't been so great, either, Ron," Harry said with a wince, thinking back to the traumatic events at the Ministry. It had been about this time, the prior year… Harry sighed. He didn't know what he was going to do with this information. Severus had told him explicitly that he didn't trust Malfoy; how would he react if after that very conversation, Harry was running to him with his suspicions a mere few days later?

On the other hand, thought Harry, he had also asked that Harry consult him before acting on anything that had to do with Malfoy. Harry did not want to cry wolf, though, only to be brushed to the side the next time he had a legitimate concern.

No, Harry would have to find a better way to show Severus what he wanted him to see about Malfoy. The man said he didn't trust the boy, but it was clear that he had far greater faith in him than Kinnaird. Harry knew that the mistrust of the other spy led him to see Malfoy through rose-tinted lenses.

Harry needed more time to deal with Severus, but his friends weren't going to let it lie. He wouldn't put it past them to go to his Father before he had the chance to, causing problems even as they attempted to solve them. Even worse, they might go straight past his Father, and straight to Professor Dumbledore.

"Harry," said Ron insistently, stirring Harry from his thoughts. "I know what I saw. You can't ignore this."

The determination in Ron's steady gaze had Harry shaken. Ron's persistence was certain to disrupt whatever plan Harry could formulate.

"Listen," said Harry, lowering his voice. "I'm going to tell you something…but you must promise not to tell anyone. Not even Dumbledore. Got it?"

Hermione was instantly back in her seat, waving for Ron to do the same. Ron looked suspicious, as though Harry was trying to throw them off the scent of something, but he found his place next to Hermione and leaned toward Harry, listening.

"Severus already knows that Malfoy is a snake; however, Malfoy is also providing him with more concrete advantages than Kinnaird."

"What do you mean, concrete advantages?"

"Hermione- the last ingredient for the Potion that we could not acquire on our own; Malfoy secured it. My Father hasn't even told Dumbledore yet."

"Oh." The sound escaped Hermione in a puff of air, as though someone had knocked it out of her. "That explains why he hasn't sent for me, recently… Harry, he's sure? He's sure it's legitimate?"

"As far as I can tell," responded Harry. "And he's afraid Dumbledore's going to interfere as soon as he tells him."

"So what you're telling me," said Ron slowly, "is that Snape's in a league with Malfoy and they're keeping it from Dumbledore?"

Harry wanted to pull all of his hair out in frustration. "Ron, think about what you're suggesting. You really think that my own Father is working against me?"

"Well, I suppose not," answered Ron reasonably. "I'm not really sure what to think, to be honest."

"You'll have to leave that to me, for now," said Harry.

"I suppose we don't have a choice," agreed Hermione reluctantly. "But don't keep this from the Professor too long, Harry. It's important."

xxx

It was only the perfect timing of Harry's hooked finger clutching the back of Hermione's collar which prevented her head from hitting the desk as she slumped forward, succumbing to the sleep she'd been fighting for the better part of an hour. She quickly jolted back to life and shot an apologetic look to the front of the room, where Snape was in the middle of a particularly dull lecture.

It was as though Professor Snape was really trying to lull his students to sleep, today. Normally, double Potions on Thursday mornings was only bearable due to the fact that the students were moving about quickly to finish their projects in the allotted amount of time, no one had time to allow the sleeplessness of the past week to catch up to them.

Lecture, however, was inevitable on some days; Harry simply wished that Severus hadn't chosen such an inconvenient one. His furtive glance to the front of the room found Severus' eyes resting steadily on Hermione as he continued speaking to the rest of the class; the only sign that he had noticed her sleepiness was the slight raising of his eyebrows as he made eye contact with Harry, who was still grasping her arm, attempting to keep her from drifting off again.

Harry pretended not to have noticed Snape's gaze, and Severus continued lecture without comment. Harry breathed a sigh of relief at not having been reprimanded in front of the class. Glancing back at Hermione, he saw that she was back to her normal self. She was bending over her notes, writing furiously. She had drawn a thick black line through the scribbles her penmanship had morphed into as she became drowsier and drowsier.

Looking discretely past Hermione, Harry's eyes fell on Draco Malfoy's empty seat. He had only returned to classes a few days prior, and now, already, he was missing again.

"Perhaps you could tell us," Professor Snape was saying in the background, and suddenly a hard elbow in Harry's ribs alerted him to the fact that the remark was aimed in his direction.

"Mr. Potter," Severus spat out in distaste, the expression on his face reading loud and clear that he resented having to use that name, but for lack of appropriate options, had little choice in the matter.

"Sorry?" Harry asked; Severus' eyes narrowed, but he looked somehow satisfied that he had caught him not paying attention.

"The properties of ground crocodile claws, what are they?" Severus snapped.

"They are a fortifying ingredient," Harry responded automatically; only the slight raising of Severus' eyebrows gave away his surprise at the quick answer.

"Ah, I see someone has done his reading," remarked Severus snidely, then redirected his attention to the rest of the class. "And as such, quite necessary to a strengthening potion as complex as the one we will be beginning today. It is a three step process, so you will perform each step in increments over the next week…"

Though he knew better, Harry's thoughts trailed back to Malfoy's empty seat as Severus continued to speak. There was a part of him that was glad he was not in attendance today; it would be difficult to conceal the resentment Harry held for him. Even further, he was certain that if his Father were to notice all three of them bearing the signs of sleeplessness, he would connect the dots all too easily.

Yes, just as well, thought Harry, even if he did begrudge Malfoy the ability to skip class at a whim. It seemed he had hardly attended school this year. Yet, thought Harry, with the fate awaiting him after graduation, class attendance hardly seemed necessary.

If only they could just expel him, for good. Frowning, Harry shook these thoughts from his head and began copying the notes that Hermione had been scribbling next to him. Even if Malfoy was not required to learn these things, that didn't mean Harry was off the hook.

At the front of the room, Severus finally finished his lecture and turned to the board to write out the instructions for the rest of the class. As he did so, he allowed his eyes linger on Harry and Miss Granger for a moment longer. This was certainly unusual behavior for the two of them, especially for the girl. Attentiveness was one of her finer qualities; today, however, it was greatly diminished.

As he wrote out the lists of ingredients, he contemplated Harry's behavior as well. It was not unusual for the boy to show up to class rather tired, normally a result of a week's worth of procrastination having caught up with him the night before. The correlation of Miss Granger's behavior, however, also suggested causation.

Severus, however, had spent interim since his and Harry's discussion the prior Sunday putting his promises into practice. He had quelled the urge to snap at the girl as she blatantly drifted to sleep, despite the cleverness of the remark he'd contemplated. And, true to his word, he was attempting to dispel the suspicions that were naturally rising in his mind as he contemplated the odd scenario.

That wasn't to say, however, that suspicion was totally absent.

Once he had set the timer for the students' deadline, Severus leaned back against his desk and watched the pairs scramble for their Potions ingredients. It was not long before each set of partners was back at their workbenches, diligently crushing crocodile claws and separating viper scales. With everyone at work, the Potions Master began to make the rounds, weaving slowly and silently through the desks, evaluating the students' work with an expression of dispassion.

When he came upon Harry and Hermione, the two worked faster, as though to discourage him from commenting. He lingered there, and he could see the tension in the rigid lines of their shoulders as they stared down at their work, as though they didn't know he was there.

Rounding the desk, Severus stood in front of the two students, so that they couldn't ignore his presence.

"Late night, Miss Granger?" Severus inquired very quietly, so that no one could hear. She glanced nervously up at him.

"And you, Harry? You're looking rather tired, as well." Severus added before Hermione could respond, looking to his son. Harry fidgeted uncomfortably.

Severus nodded slowly, as though taking their nervousness for an answer in itself. "I hope that your extracurricular activities will not interfere with your performance," he said warningly. "Very volatile ingredients we are working with, today."

With that, Severus stepped away from their desk, aiming a meaningful look at his son. Hermione blushed furiously and worked even faster at the potion's preparation.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Hermione whispered out of the corner of her mouth, "See? We have to talk to him. He already knows something's going on."

Of course he did, Harry thought privately. But Severus always thought he knew something was going on. As long as he thought it was the wrong thing, they were safe from discovery.

"Don't be so paranoid. And stop," Harry admonished her, taking the mortar and pestle from her hands. "These are already done."

"Oh," said Hermione, staring down at the fine powder in the small bowl. "Sorry," she said, and turned her attention to the boiling base in their cauldron.

Harry kept his eyes down on the project; he didn't want his Father to see the nervousness on his face. He would do his best to complete this portion of the potion without error, and escape to his next class quickly after the period was over. He wouldn't give his Father a chance to question him.

The remainder of the class period moved smoothly along, and when Professor Snape finally announced that it was time to clear their work stations, Harry and Hermione did so in tandem, finishing before a majority of the students. After stashing the last of their ingredients in the stock closet, they had only to place their labeled Potions base on Severus desk.

With the flask of liquid held tight in her hand, Hermione approached Severus' desk, avoiding eye contact as she set it there. As soon as it made contact with the desk, she and Harry quickly turned to leave.

"Not so fast," Severus said softly, leaning nonchalantly back in his chair and watching them with glittering eyes. "I think you should remain just a moment."

"We'd love to, but we've got to get to—"

"Lunch?" asked Severus smoothly, black eyebrows furrowing over blacker eyes. "It will still be there when we've finished. I won't hold you long," he promised; but the promise in his voice was so much darker than that.

And so Harry and Hermione waited until the Potions classroom had emptied; after the last student had exited the room, Severus turned to Hermione. "Firstly, ten points from Gryffindor, for falling asleep in class."

Not for the first time, Hermione's face flushed pink. She did not object, however.

"Secondly, I am not quite sure what exactly is keeping you up so very late at night," he said, looking up at his son from under hooded eyes, "but I suggest you do not allow it to interfere with your class performance again."

"Okay." Harry swallowed, trying to relieve the dryness of his mouth. "Is there anything else?"

"I don't know," replied Severus. "Is there?"

The lack of emotion in his face and the innocence of his tone might seem benign to the untrained eye, thought Harry, but he detected the suggestion in the question. Hermione was watching him nervously, waiting for his response.

"No," said Harry, feigning an expression of befuddlement. "Of course not."

Beside him, Hermione exhaled loudly. He resisted the urge to aim a dirty look her way.

"Very well," said Severus evenly, eyes glittering as he smiled deceptively. "Enjoy your lunch, then."

"Thanks," said Harry, reaching out and grabbing Hermione's arm. He pulled her towards the door before her overly expressive face could give anything else away.

"Oh, and Harry," Severus called just as Harry had stepped out the door. Harry poked his head back in the office.

"Yes?" he answered, not without trepidation.

"Just a reminder that we will be leaving for the house tomorrow evening," said Severus without looking up from the paper on his desk. "That is all."

"Okay. See you then," Harry said, relieved, and disappeared back into the hallway again.

As soon as the door had closed, Severus raised his gaze and shook his head to himself. He set down his quill and straightened the pile of papers before placing them back in their drawer. As he shuffled the stacks around in there, Harry's map caught his eye; he had not yet returned it.

After a moment of deliberation, he pulled the map out of the drawer and set it atop his desk. "I solemnly swear," droned Severus, rolling his eyes, "that I am up to no good."

He tapped the map, and his eyes scanned for his son. Sure enough, he stood conglomerated with the figures of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, only a few corridors away from his office. Severus' eyes narrowed in further suspicion; clearly, Weasley had been waiting there for them to emerge from class, rather than meeting them in the Great Hall. Yet, there was nothing sinister about Harry meeting his friends on the way to lunch.

From the way that his son and friend had left his office squirming under his gaze, he was certain he had put enough fear into them to keep them from acting too rashly. That, for now, would have to be good enough.

Despite his desire to continue watching, Severus folded the map and placed it safely back in the drawer. A time would come when Harry revealed himself; whether it was intentional or not, that was another story. Still, Severus had enough faith in the boy's inherent Gryffindor nature that he would not be able to keep any secret for too long. To himself, Severus chuckled derisively.

It was both a blessing and a curse that his son was predictably reckless. At the very least, thought Severus, the boy certainly was consistent.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter End Notes:
AN: Thanks to Trish and Dawn for all their help.
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