Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Snippet of what’s to come:

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies....

Harry listened to the prophecy over and over, memorizing every syllable that was spoken.

“Either must die at the hand of the other,” he murmured, “for neither can live while the other survives.”

Harry sat back and repeated that line.

“Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives... so...” Harry tapped the floor irritably while his brow was furrowed. “So can we only die if we kill each other? If he lives forever, will I live forever too?”

Harry considered all the times he should have died, could have slipped away to death so easily. He hadn’t though. Because he was a survivor, because he was surviving.

So Timmy was living because Harry was surviving.

Because... because he was carrying around Timmy’s soul inside of him.

When Harry floo’d back to Snape’s quarters, he calmly sat down on his sofa and tilted his head curiously at Snape.

“How the fuck am I supposed to ‘vanquish the Dark Lord’ if I have to die before he can be killed?”

Snape folded his hands together on his lap and gave Harry a small smirk while his eyes glittered with what looked like mischief or danger, maybe both.

“We kill Albus Dumbledore.”

I will warn you now: there are multiple MCD’s in this book and I cannot be peer pressured, threatened, or blackmailed in to giving everyone a happy ending. 😂

Additionally: I swear that every death has a plot purpose. No character ever dies just for shock, etc.

Someone told me that they read fanfiction specifically only for feel good stories so they avoid MCD fics like the plague, so if that’s you as well then I say no hard feelings and thanks for reading this far. ❤️

If you want some angst, trauma, and terror:
Then stick around folks because this year is going to be a bumpy ride. 😉

Chapter Text

June 22

“Hey, mate, how was —”

“Don’t fuckin’ talk to me right now,” Harry snarled. He threw his broom on the ground inside the doorway of Invisibility Way, much to Ron and Draco’s befuddlement, and stormed directly to the library.

“Hey, Harry, how did —”

“Don’t talk to me,” Harry repeated to Theo, who was snuggled in the window seat of the library with Hermione. Harry stormed past them and knocked on Snape’s office door once before trying to open it.

And found out that he couldn’t.

“What the fuck?”

It was his unprecedented inability to storm in to Snape’s office without being granted permission that cleared off some of his anger and instead allowed confusion to take over.

“Sev?” Harry knocked loudly, certain Snape was in there since it was where he had been all summer so far. “Hey, it’s me!”

“Wait, please.”

Harry irritably rapped his knuckles on the doorframe until Snape finally called for him to enter.

“You can’t lock me out of our office,” Harry said hatefully as he sat in the posh green chair he’d added by the small fireplace just for him to use.

Snape snorted from where he was pacing behind his desk. “Apologies Harry, but since you are meant to be at quidditch practice, I was attempting to keep your motley band of misfits from interrupting me.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about that anymore, do you? I’m not fuckin playing quidditch.”

“What?” Snape stopped his pacing to stare incredulously at Harry. “Why? You have been so excited?”

Harry flung the parchment that had been presented to him this afternoon when he was in the middle of training with his team for the third time. “My ‘contract has been terminated’,” he scoffed as Snape grabbed the paper to read. “Apparently, Timmy’s fuckin followers made a house call to the owner of the team last night. Now, suddenly, I’m ‘a liability’.”

Harry felt justified in his own anger to see Snape look absolutely devastated as his eyes flicked over the parchment for a brief instant before he blinked and his passive mask was firmly in place.

“Contact Amelia,” he said. “Ask her if the DMLE can spare aurors to appease your teams fears. Surely they would allow you to play if you brought protection for them to your training sessions and matches?”

“Nah.” Harry propped his feet up on the little side table next to his chair. “Fuck them. If they’re too scared of Timmy to let me play, then I don’t wanna play for them anymore, do I?”

It was a bit of a lie. Harry had wanted to play for the Arrows more than almost anything. But if one person being killed means they’re too scared to have him on their team, then he didn’t want them to win the World Cup anyway.

“Harry, you have to play,” Snape said vehemently. He sat in the matching green chair to Harry’s and stared him down with a weird look in his eyes. “You worked hard for this. You have always wanted to play professionally. Go back and talk to them. Or I can go, if you would like?”

Harry didn’t even know Snape liked quidditch this much.

“It’s fine.” Harry waved his hand with forced nonchalance. “I’m gonna play for the Canons.”

Snape let out a sigh of relief.

“When Timmy’s dead.”

“What? Why would you wait? Why not play now?”

Harry shrugged and picked at his nails. “Cause they’ll probably just try and kill off the Canons owner next, yeah? I’m gonna write to their captain and see if I can play for them after I kill Timmy. Plus, I sent Viktor the announcement that I got recruited younger than he did, so I win, right?”

Snape’s voice was soft, laced with pleading, “This was your dream Harry. I hate for you to give it up.”

Harry gave him a small grin, it really was vindicating to know Snape cared about quidditch as much as he did.

“Oh I’m not giving it up,” he said. “I’m just gonna kill Timmy first, aren’t I? Then when he’s dead I’ll win the World Cup.”

It was a pain in the arse, to push this off until after they dealt with Timmy, but Harry wasn’t actually as disappointed as he originally was. He’d bested Viktor, which was a big part of wanting to play professionally so early, but also he had fourteen years between graduation and becoming Minister, he could win the World Cup at least a dozen times in that span.

And, the real reason Harry hadn’t cursed anyone for kicking him off the team, was because they were going to be pissed when Harry joined the worst team in the league and made them look like idiots for doing this.

And that’s just what he told them before he left Appleby.

Snape rubbed his eyes, abruptly looking exhausted. Actually, he didn’t look too great at all, period. His skin was pale and the stress lines around his eyes were pronounced in a way Harry didn’t usually notice. Snape’s shoulder length black hair was mussed up and lankier than usual, like he’d been running his fingers through it a lot. He also had his shirt sleeves pushed up, which Harry had never seen him do aside from when he’s working on multiple potions at once, a sure sign of stress.

Which made since, because Snape’s been locked up in their office since they arrived at Invisibility Way and claims he’s been nonstop busy. He would show up for breakfast with Harry, then lock himself away all day while Harry was at Appleby and nobody would see him until he came to have breakfast with Harry the next morning.

Personally, Harry thought he was taking Barty’s death pretty hard and didn’t want to hang out with any of Harry’s friends. Also, he thought maybe he was avoiding Mavis who kept bursting in to tears at the worst times.

Harry liked Mavis, but he was kind of avoiding him too. He hated when people cried, it made his skin itch and his stomach curl. But Hermione, who officially moved in with them this summer, has taken up his slack and has spent tons of time with Mavis so he ‘didn’t feel alone’.

“What if you can’t?” Snape asked quietly, his eyes solemn when Harry quirked a brow at him. “What if you die before you get the opportunity?”

Harry laughed lightly as he plucked the parchment from Snape’s slack hand. “You need to get out of your office more,” he teased him. “I’m not dying. Who’s gonna kill me? Timmy? Dumbledore? Pft,” Harry scoffed, “they already tried, didn’t they? C’mon, come eat lunch with us. You can watch me take the Canons to victory after we kill Timmy.”

Snape’s eyes flicked to a book he had open on his desk before he glanced back at Harry and sighed. “Is it somehow important to you if I show up to lunch?”

“It is,” Harry said with mock-solemnity. “I’ll probably never forgive you, but more importantly, could you forgive yourself?”

Harry was joking, so the flash of grief in Snape’s eyes was so out of place that he thought maybe he imagined it.

“I will be there,” Snape finally sighed. “Go change Harry, you stink.”

“Will do.” Harry jumped to his feet and gave Snape a sarcastic salute. He’d probably be more offended if Snape wasn’t probably right, he’d been up since six doing workouts with his team before the the captain came and sent him home. “You should shower too,” he told him on his way out the door, “I’m inviting Tonks.”

Harry paused a few feet away from the office and turned and looked at the door curiously.

“What’s wrong Harry?” Hermione asked from where she was still sitting with Theo.

“Nothing,” Harry said, still examining the door curiously. “I just- just thought Snape would throw something at the door after I closed it.”

Hermione and Theo laughed, but Harry wasn’t actually joking. His resolve to make Snape cheer up before they had to go back to school in September strengthened.

If Harry could bring up Tonks and Snape didn’t throw anything, then he was more depressed than Harry thought.

After he took a quick shower and put on more comfortable clothes (he binned his stupid Arrows training uniform), he wandered back down the stairs and idly thought about popping by Fred’s store after lunch. They’d be officially opened on the first of July, so Fred’s been there practically all day every day working on the store.

He still came here to sleep at night, leaving the flat above the shop for George and Angelina, but he always left at the crack of dawn to get back to it.

By the time Harry made it to the dining room, he’d almost convinced himself to go to the shop after he ate, until he saw Susan sitting alone at the table with mischief brewing in her eyes.

“Hey,” Harry grinned and slid in his seat. “I thought you had physical therapy today?”

“I left early,” she said simply. She stretched out her new prosthetic she was using, a slim arm of a bright gold material that magically fit her shoulder socket, and flexed her fingers. “I told Auntie that I don’t think I really need to keep going. This one responds just like my other arm does. I’ll probably keep it.”

“Really?” Harry sent a brief look of longing at Susan’s arm. He wasn’t jealous, necessarily, but Susan had gotten the arm fit on his first day of quidditch practice and when he got home she was literally showing off the strength in it by punching holes in the trees for Ron and Neville’s amusement. “I still say you should have gotten a—”

“If I hear gun arm one more time I’m going to lose my mind,” Hermione sighed as she entered the dining room with Theo. “You are a wizard Harry, you don’t need to equip Susan with a gun.”

“I don’t know, I like the idea of us all having them,” Susan said with a small smile. “Just imagine it, Harry... BAM! We shoot Dumbledore right between his damn twinkling eyes.”

Harry smiled wistfully at the image, it was a good idea honestly. “If they vote him back as headmaster, then I say we do it,” he said while Ron and Draco came in the room with simultaneous exasperated sighs.

Having a whole safe house full of his friends and gang members coming and going had actually been the best idea Snape’s ever had. Harry didn’t care what Draco said, plotting schemes in the comfort of his own dining room without worrying about being overheard was brill.

“You should have shot him the night of the battle,” Theo scowled. “I’m this close—” Theo held his index finger nearly right up against his thumb, “— to doing it myself.”

Apparently if the headmaster tries to kill your brother, it can change your view on guns.

And murder.

Which Harry and Susan privately found hilarious how quickly Theo and Hermione changed their view on murder once they heard everyone share their tales of torture, attempted murder, and the other struggles everyone had the night of the battle in Hogsmeade.

The night of Barty’s funeral, when the inner gang finally had a chance to sit down together and all actually share their versions of the battle, the rest of them had been horrified and furious to hear Trent describe hiding behind a trash bin while Dumbledore tried to kill Timmy and Harry in one go.

”Maybe if someone,” Trent had glared pointedly at Fred, “hadn’t taken my wand, I would have been able to stop him.”

Harry hadn’t laughed at him, but it was a close call. Picturing little Trent with his big eyes and gap-toothed smile killing Dumbledore was hysterical. It was even more hysterical when Trent had made the front page of the paper for saving a little girl, who apparently was the granddaughter of the owner of Honeydukes, and was given a ‘lifetime of free sweets’ as repayment.

It was no ‘no questions asked favor’, like Harry usually requests when he saves someone’s life, but Trent was happy so Harry was happy. He’d teach him eventually that favors were worth a hell of a lot more than chocolate.

“We are not killing him, yet,” Susan stressed to Theo. “We’ve got more important things to plan anyway.”

“What’s that?” Ron asked curiously.

“Yes, what could you possibly find more important than the death of Albus Dumbledore?” Draco said with a sarcastic drawl.

“Harry’s first match,” Susan said pompously. She smiled at Harry brightly until she caught his disgruntled expression and deflated a bit. “Aren’t you excited? It’s against the Harpies, and I don’t care what George says about Angelina, you can beat them with your eyes closed.”

Harry shrugged and kicked at the legs of the table while his friends watched him curiously. “I’m not fuckin playing,” he admitted in a bitter grumble. “They found the owner of the team dead under the dark mark last night and decided I’m a liability, didn’t they? They think they were targeted specifically because of me.”

Harry’s scowl lightened as his friends immediately went on individual and heated rants about the injustice of it.

“You had a contract!” Hermione howled. “There has to be a clause that can’t just have them kick you off!”

“Call a barrister!” Draco said, nodding in agreement with Hermione. “You should sue them at a minimum.”

“I told you the Arrows sucked,” Ron said with a dark look. “Just proof they’re a bunch of tossers. You can do better.”

Susan was surprisingly quiet. Well. Maybe it wasn’t all that surprising. She’d been a little more quiet, a little more thoughtful, since she got out of St Mungo’s.

“Tell me the captains name and I’ll go make them reconsider,” she said as she flexed her golden fingers threateningly.

She wasn’t any less vicious though, thank goodness.

“Nah.” Harry grinned and relaxed back in his chair. “I’m just gonna kill Timmy this year then play for the Canons next year. Imagine their faces when—”

“When you take the worst team and beat them,” Susan cut in with a sharp smile. “Brill, Harry.”

“Who’s the worst team?”

Harry looked up and grinned to see that Tonks arrived. “The Canons,” he told her, “not for long though. Just until I kill Timmy.”

And since that didn’t make any sense, Harry sighed and explained his plan to her while Cissa and Mavis joined them.

Then he had to start at the beginning for Cissa because she too joined halfway through the explanation.

“Positively abominable!” she cried indignantly. “Perhaps if you would go liberate Lucius, he could assist you in taking this captain to court and get your position back.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her not so subtle reminder. “We aren’t rushing off to Azkaban and blowing his cover until we decide on it at the meeting on the fifth.”

Harry knew the dementors were terrible, but to lose his only spy on Timmy? That would be a loss. And since he still has the fuckin scar on his arm from where he had to go fight a basilisk because of Lucius, then he figured he could deal with the dementors a little longer.

Cissa opened her mouth, probably to argue her case, again, but luckily Snape finally joined them. He sent a quick and annoyed glance at the packed table before sighing in defeat and taking his usual chair across from Harry.

“If I had known that becoming your guardian meant dealing with a household of guests, I would have left you to Amelia,” he said.

Harry smirked across the table at him confidently, “No you wouldn’t have.”

“No,” Snape said with a fond look in his dark eyes, “I wouldn’t have.”

After lunch, Harry spent a bit of time talking in his room with Susan, Hermione, and Theo. Ron and Draco quietly snuck off to Moon Lodge, as if Harry didn’t know they were going flying. He figured they didn’t invite him because they thought he’d be weird about it, but as long as they were practicing for the upcoming school year, he didn’t really care.

“I still say it’s ridiculous to blame you for what Timmy did,” Theo said while they sprawled across the room Harry was sharing with Theo, Hermione, and Fred. “You really should sue them for terminating your contract.”

“Or get revenge anyway,” Susan said thoughtfully. Her head was on Harry’s lap and she was absently petting Stevie as he crowded the two of them looking for attention.

“I already have my revenge planned,” Harry said. “It’s subtle, isn’t it? Even Snape can’t complain about it.”

“Not about the Arrows,” Susan waved her gold hand airily. “Against Timmy. I doubt it was a coincidence that they happened to target the owner of the team that announced you joining them in May.”

“I think it’s pretty clear that it wasn’t a coincidence,” Hermione said. “Harry, ask Stevie how much venom can be removed from him before his system is too depleted to create more?”

Harry shook his head at her, but did as she asked. Since she wasn’t making Theo throw a fit about Stevie being in their room this summer, he figured it was a small task to occasionally translate questions for her.

”How much of your venom can be removed before you can’t make more?” he hissed at him.

Stevie’s tongue flicked out in an obviously unhappy gesture, ”Try to find out and I will kill you first.”

Harry flicked his own tongue out at his snake and narrowed his eyes at him. ”Oh yeah? Like you were supposed to kill Timmy’s followers and his snake at the battle? And what did you end up doing?”

”Eating a tasty rabbit,” Stevie said in a smug tone. ”I hope you have many more battles for your life, Speaker. That was the greatest rabbit I have ever consumed.”

Harry gave Stevie his best disappointed look before tilting his head back to address Hermione where she was seated on her and Theo’s bed. “He said if we try and find out that he’ll kill us and he wants me to get in another battle so he can find tasty rabbits.”

“If you don’t want to tell me you don’t have to,” Hermione sniffed. “No reason to make up answers.”

Harry shrugged carelessly, it wasn’t his fault if she didn’t believe him.

“Back to me,” Susan said, snapping her fingers. “You can’t let Timmy think he’s won some sort of battle by getting you kicked off the Arrows. You have to strike back, show him if he fucks with you that you’ll fuck with him back.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Theo asked scathingly. “We are already planning on killing him.”

“We need to do something more immediate,” Susan said slowly, a grin making its way across her face. “Something that shows him that we aren’t just laying around waiting for him to attack us.”

‘We’. ‘Us.’

Susan really was the greatest friend Harry could have ever asked for.

When he thinks back to the day he met her, when she was just a posh red-headed girl in a library lecturing him on breaking the law, then thinks of where they are now, it sometimes seems too good to be true.

Theo might be the brother that Harry always secretly wanted, but Susan was his ‘platonic soulmate’ (as Fred dubbed her one night when he came home and saw Susan was snuggled in his and Harry’s bed. He’d looked a little annoyed, but then grinned and said he was glad that Susan was Harry’s ‘platonic soulmate’ or else he’d be jealous. Harry thought he kind of looked a bit jealous either way, but since Susan had a terrible session with Lupin that day, he wasn’t going to kick her out of his bed on Fred’s behalf).

And a platonic soulmate seemed to always be on the same wavelength as Harry, which was especially perfect for plotting.

“What are you thinking?” Harry asked with his own grin taking over his face.

“Wellll...” Susan sat up slowly, an effort to not startle Stevie, and turned to Hermione and tried to blink innocently. “What do you know about muggle explosives?”

Harry went ahead and silently locked the door and warded it against eavesdroppers. If Susan was asking about explosives, this was officially an illegal and private discussion between the four of them.

Hermione argued. Susan countered her arguments. Hermione tried to get Theo to back her up. Harry backed up Susan. And after a couple of hours, Susan’s newest operation was planned.

And then Harry had to go find Cissa to let her know about it.

‘To be polite’.

Harry sighed, wishing Theo didn’t have to be quite so logical in his insistence that Harry inform Cissa first, before he knocked firmly on Barty’s Cissa’s bedroom door.

He’d been pissed, at first, when she asked politely and gently asked him if she could use the bedroom Harry had painted and decorated for Barty to use at Invisibility Way. He’d nearly hexed her for the fuckin audacity, but instead he stormed outside and threw curses at the trees until he felt calmer.

It made sense.

Cissa was an adult. She deserved privacy as much as Snape did and Barty had. If Barty hadn’t been on the original list of roommates in the house, Harry probably would have given her the private room from the start.

Plus, since Trent was going to stay with them every now and again, he needed an extra bed he hadn’t originally planned for.

So he went back inside and told her she could have it.

Now he waited outside the door for her to answer.

When she did, Harry was caught off guard by her expression of peace. How could someone seem so peaceful when Harry wasn’t?

“Harry, darling, how can I help you?” She smiled at him and eyed his sloppy clothes carefully. “Perhaps you came to ask if I would go shopping with you? Because I would absolutely love to. There’s a boutique in France that I believe suits your unique aesthetic perfectly.”

“No,” Harry laughed. This was probably the tenth time in just the week that summer has started that Cissa has asked to take him shopping for clothes. It was no wonder Draco pouted and growled when he stained his clothes in potions or herbology, Cissa was mad about appearances. “I came to remind you that you told me once that I’m your favorite cousin and Draco owes me a favor so I’m cashing in on both of those things today.”

“Oh?” Cissa raised a thin blonde brow curiously, though her smile was still firmly in place. “And how will you be ‘cashing in on those things’?”

Harry smirked and twirled his wand carelessly through his fingers. “I’m blowing up Malfoy Manor.”

Because if Harry couldn’t have quidditch right now, then Timmy couldn’t have a posh and comfortable headquarters either.

***

Hello,
I received a letter from your team back in March offering me a position on your quidditch team as seeker. I had denied the position at the time as I had quite a bit going on (for more details please see the Daily Prophet article from May outlining my battle against the newly returned Lord Voldemort and his followers).

After further consideration, I would like to ask that you still allow me a place on your team once I complete my current mission to defeat Lord Voldemort (again). I believe that this would be mutually beneficial to both of us: Harry Potter joining your team would boost your fanbase, which of course will increase ticket sales for matches, and in return I would take your team to victory in our matches.

If this sounds acceptable to you, then I await your response.

Thank you,
Harry J Potter

Mr Potter,
We at the Chudley Canons eagerly await the moment that you fulfill your mission to end You-Know-Who’s reign of terror so that you can join our team.

Enclosed you will find season tickets to our upcoming matches this year, we hope to see you there.

Harry didn’t care how jealous it made anyone, when Sevvie brought him the letter from the Canons confirming that they would hold a position for him, he’d hugged Hermione tightly and swung her in a circle right in front of Theo and Fred.

”Your letter worked!” he cried triumphantly. “The Canons said I can join as soon as I kill Timmy!”

Everyone, except Snape when Harry found him in their office to tell him about it, was happy for him.

And Harry went ahead and gave Ron the season tickets. Until he joined the team, the Canons still sucked and he didn’t much fancy going and watching them lose.

Chapter Text

June 23

When she looked in the mirror- she wondered why her face didn’t look as different as she felt on the inside.

Her eyes were still a bright teal, a shade Lavender Brown once called ‘sea-foam’ and Johnny always called ‘beautiful’.

Her hair was still a dark red; thick and difficult to brush if she didn’t use the smoothing conditioner her aunt brought back from a mission in Paris one time and always owl ordered twice a year to replenish. Susan touched one of her curls, more grateful now for the beauty book Hermione got her for her twelfth birthday than ever before.

Susan still had eleven freckles across the bridge of her nose (a number she knew for sure because Johnny once counted them), her teeth were still as straight and even as they’d been ever since her aunt had them fixed, and her nose still turned up just a little at the end in a way that Padma Patil said was ‘so cute she was going to die from jealousy’.

Everything looked the same from the neck up.

Which was ridiculous because she felt like she was so different.

Susan lifted her right arm up carefully, telling herself that it felt just as it always had, and slowly pulled her hair back in to a slick ponytail.

She got dressed, as if her right arm had always looked this odd with her favorite black tank top that showed off a bit of her mid-drift when she lifted her arms, and checked to make sure her pockets were filled with supplies.

Healing potions. Blood replenishers. Decoy Detonators.

When she went to the sitting room, she gave her aunt a hug, and they both pretended Susan didn’t accidentally squeeze her too tightly with the strength the new arm carried. Susan snagged her ‘sleepover bag’ and smiled at her aunt. “I’ll be home Monday,” she said. “Don’t work yourself to death before then.”

“Tell Severus and Harry that I said hello,” Auntie said as she walked over and placed a soft hand on Susan’s cheek. “Do try and stay out of trouble this weekend, will you?”

Susan gave her an innocent look, as she always did when her aunt said that to her. “Trouble? Us? You must have us confused with someone else, Auntie. The Daily Prophet said that Harry and I are role models to the younger generations.”

Auntie Amelia chuckled and shook her head. “I never know if I owe Severus an apology for letting my child corrupt his or if he owes me one.”

“If I were you, I would apologize just in case,” Susan said seriously. “Except, as I said before, Harry and I are role models, so really you both should be pleased.”

“Go,” Auntie laughed again. “Be safe, will you?”

Susan was so grateful to have her Aunt Amelia. For the head of an entire department of law enforcement, she truly was very lax about Susan’s activities during school breaks. Susan thought perhaps Auntie got enough of bossing people around at work all day and home was where she could just relax. Even if she wasn’t too relaxed though, Susan knew she got lucky with having her aunt take her in after her parents died.

She only had to look at Harry to know she could have ended up with much worse guardians after the war.

“I’ll try,” Susan lied. “I love you.”

Auntie Amelia smiled, her whole face softening as it did. “And I love you, you little liar. Don’t do anything that I have to get involved with at least, alright?”

“Of course.”

Susan was fairly confident that the theft and destruction they planned today surely had to be lower priorities for the DMLE considering Death Eater activity has been at an all time high recently. Especially since they were using a minimal amount of magic at Malfoy Manor.

Muggles were truly vicious creatures and had the most wicked machines that didn’t need a single bit of magic to operate.

When Susan stepped in the floo, she told herself that her arm didn’t actually ache as her body was trying to convince her mind that it did. This golden arm, made of magic and metal, didn’t feel pain.

And her old arm was gone.

Susan stepped out of the floo and almost immediately groaned. “You,” she said flatly. “Terrific.”

“You didn’t think Harry would plan the greatest prank ever and not invite me? Did you?” Fred asked with a cocky grin from where he was laying across the sleek sofa in the sitting room. “You remember Charlie, right?”

Susan turned juuuust a little, presenting Charlie Weasley with her left hand instead of her right. “I suppose you’re helping as well?”

Susan hoped Harry knew Charlie was coming, otherwise he was going to be upset. Sure Harry let Charlie join the gang, and anyone could see how hard he worked to appear casual and unaffected by his presence, but Harry couldn’t fool Susan. She noticed his little ticks in his fingers when Charlie moved too quickly or spoke too loudly. And she didn’t think Harry kept a close eye on Charlie’s hands because he found him attractive.

Even if he was terribly attractive.

“Harry specifically asked me to help,” Charlie said with a roguish smile as if he could guess at Susan’s thoughts. “He said, and I quote, ‘I need an adult or Snape’s gonna be pissed and I know you like fire’.”

“What?” Susan was startled in to a laugh by that. She looked Charlie over carefully. He didn’t look much like the twins or Ron, aside from his blue eyes and freckles. His red hair was cropped short and his features were more... more hardened than the other Weasley boys. She glanced at his arms, taking note of both the tattoos and the muscles, and smiled slyly at the burn marks littering his arms. “I suppose you do know quite a bit about fire, don’t you Dragon-Man?”

“A bit,” Charlie said with a wink that temporarily soothed Susan’s newly diminished confidence.

Susan never used to worry much about her looks. She was attractive, beautiful, and didn’t struggle to find willing partners once her hormones kicked in and she wanted to experiment. She wasn’t vain, necessarily, she just knew she was attractive as clearly as she knew she had two arms.

Then she lost one arm and didn’t know anything about herself anymore.

Susan was about to see how far the supposedly ‘romantically disinterested’ Charlie Weasley was, when Hermione, Theo, Draco, and Harry trooped in the room and interrupted her.

Another time then, she decided with a small flick of her head for Charlie before she settled herself on the floor beside the chair she knew Harry would take.

Harry always took the chair that had the best view of the exits.

Sure enough, Harry sat in his chair and Theo shoved Fred’s legs off the sofa so he and Hermione could sit while Draco took a hesitant seat next to Charlie on the smaller love seat.

“Where’s Ron?” Harry asked Draco immediately.

It was Fred who answered him with an apologetic grimace. “He’s at the shop with George. Sorry darlin, I paid him to cover me today.”

“His loss,” Harry shrugged. “Kay, Mione, let’s go over the plan then.”

Hermione nodded and pulled out a parchment from her bag that she got up to stick to the wall. “Operation ‘Blow Up Malfoy Manor’, step one—”

“Excuse me?” Susan said with just the right mix of condescending in her polite tone. “Operation B.U.M.M.?”

“Blow Up Malfoy Manor, yes?” Hermione said, her brows furrowing over her brown eyes at Susan’s interruption. “That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?”

Fred and Charlie began snickering quietly while Susan blinked slowly at Hermione, waiting for her to understand precisely what she’s done.

It took a few seconds, but finally Hermione’s cheeks turned a brilliant red.

“Operation bum,” she whispered, horrified. “Oh God.”

Susan gave Theo a very pointed look, “I wouldn’t let Hermione name your future children.”

Harry and Draco howled with laughter with the Weasley’s while Theo blushed alongside Hermione now.

“Fuck off Susan,” Hermione snapped. “It was a poorly thought out acronym, no need to be a pillock about it.”

Susan loved Hermione all the time. But she liked her as well as loved her when Hermione got snarky and rude.

“Quit,” Harry said from his spot. He was quiet, but they all heard him anyway. “Can we get on with it?”

Harry didn’t specifically admonish Hermione, but Susan knew that he wouldn’t have spoken up if Hermione hadn’t just called her a ‘pillock’ either. He was so needlessly protective, it was adorable. It was probably a good thing she’d never once in her life been attracted to Harry, or else she would have to steal him from Fred.

She glanced up at Harry and could easily admit that he was fanciable, he just wasn’t her type. His facial features were too delicate, he looked too easily broken. It was a look she could appreciate in girls, but she liked her blokes to look more rugged.

Not that Harry wasn’t strong and powerful, but maybe she just knew him too well. She knew what had the potential to break Harry and vice verse. She knew that the battle had broken him, in a way, and he knew that the loss of her arm had broken her in a way.

They were open books with each other, to an extent. Harry wouldn’t share plans with her when he thought there was a chance she’d get hurt, but she wasn’t going to be sidelined in any plans anymore either.

Especially not this plan, because this plan was hers and it was brilliant.

“Step one then Hermione,” Susan said. “I think that’s for us,” she told Harry cheerfully.

“Er...” Harry ran a hand through his hair and Susan just knew something stupid was about to come out of his mouth. “I told Fred he could come with me.”

Susan counted very slowly in her head (Lupin would be so proud) before she responded to that sudden shift in plans.

“And why, precisely, are you taking Fred instead of me?” Susan asked with a sharp glare. “This was my plan, my idea. I want to go.”

Harry shifted his eyes away guiltily and Susan knew it was some mad protective thing.

“No,” she cut him off before he could even say it. “I’m going.”

“I’m a better thief,” Fred said with a bright smile. “Harry’s just playing to our strengths.”

Susan was no big fan of Fred’s. And she liked him even less when he would jump in and hand Harry perfectly logical explanations to hide his illogical thought processes behind.

“Harry, no,” Susan said, ignoring Fred entirely for the moment. “I’m going.”

“Your wand has a trace on it and it’s a muggle area,” Fred said, butting in to a private argument again. This is why he gets on Susan’s nerves, he lets Harry do whatever he wants and never argues against him, even when Harry is being a prat. “Mine doesn’t.”

“Then give me yours,” Susan snapped at him.

“Sue, c’mon, I’ll be gone for fifteen minutes and then you can go to the manor with us,” Harry said pleadingly. “If we get caught then they might call the cops or something mad, I don’t want them trying to fuckin arrest you.”

“Aren’t they already kind of like cops?” Draco asked, his nose scrunched up in what Susan and Hermione dubbed ‘pureblood confusion’. “I thought that’s what muggle military is?”

“It’s a little different,” Hermione said patiently before launching in to an overly detailed explanation.

“Susan, we need your help to perfect this spell,” Theo said, taking Harry’s side as Susan should have known he would. “It’s trickier than Timmy’s followers make it look.”

“I know you guys perfected it already,” Susan rolled her eyes. “I’m going with Harry and that’s that.”

“No you aren’t, that’s that,” Harry said stubbornly.

Harry and Fred got to their feet, Harry’s cloak already halfway out of Harry’s pocket when Susan caught a glimpse of Charlie and had one final idea.

She jumped up and pulled Fred to the side of the room quickly. She yanked his head down by her mouth to make sure the others couldn’t hear her threat. “Either you tell Harry that you’ll stay and I’ll go, or I’m going to shag your brother while you’re gone,” she hissed quietly before releasing him.

Fred blinked at Susan, his jaw dropping and overall looking just as horrified and worried as she thought he might. Fred never said anything, but she didn’t think he was the biggest fan of her either. Which would certainly make it a shame for him if she stole away one of his siblings.

“Change of plans, darlin,” Fred called over to Harry. “You take Susan to rob the garrison and I’ll wait here and make sure the other supplies are ready.”

Harry scowled.

Susan smiled.

Then Harry sighed and held his hand out and she skipped back over to him to grab it.

“If you get hurt then you’re out of the gang,” Harry said flatly. “Disarm Fred and take his wand.”

Susan knew Harry wouldn’t kick her out, and she wouldn’t get hurt this time. She smirked at Fred before turning her wand on Charlie and disarming him before he even realized what she was doing.

“Oi! What the hell?!”

Susan pocketed his wand and tossed him hers. “It won’t work very well, since you didn’t earn it, but you can use mine until I get back,” she said with a wink. “See you guys soon.”

Harry’s face was blank as he threw the cloak over the two of them. He pulled a parchment out of his pocket and studied the address Hermione found for them carefully. “Ready Sue?”

Susan squeezed his hand while her heart thudded in anticipation for the upcoming adventure. “Ready.”

Crack!

“Woah.” Susan glanced down to make sure she was still fully covered with Harry’s cloak before staring again at the huge metal gates before them. The gates were taller than Hagrid and had a red sign across where they met in the middle:

Camp Bovington
Authorized Personnel Only
Violators will be Prosecuted

“How do we get inside?” Susan whispered.

Harry gave her an exasperated look before glancing pointedly down the road from where they stood where there was a gate arm that muggle men with long black guns in their arms were controlling.

“Quiet now,” Harry breathed in her ear. “Let’s wait for a car to pull up and we’ll just slip in behind them.”

Susan nodded and quietly followed behind Harry as they crept up close to the gates.

The two of them stood there for a while, letting the sun warm them beneath the cloak, listening to the muggles in their uniforms talk and laugh with one another. By the time a black automobile pulled up to the gates, Susan had at least three more swears added to her vocabulary.

Susan felt it as Harry’s magic silenced their feet so they could run behind the car after the driver showed his ID and allowed the muggle guards to check the inside of his car.

“Fuck.” Harry came to a halt and they sent each other a bewildered look. “Any idea which way we go?” he whispered.

Susan looked around at the many, many, huge brick buildings that surrounded them and shook her head. “Look for a sign that mentions artillery,” she said quietly.

Harry let out a small sigh and shrugged his shoulders. “Let’s try and find it quick.”

How hard could it be to find one little explosive machine in a place built for military defense?

Very, apparently.

Susan and Harry had already been darting around the camp for nearly thirty minutes, carefully dodging the men in uniforms that filled the grounds, and were no closer to finding anything marked ‘artillery’, ‘explosives’, or even ‘top secret’.

“I’ve got an idea,” Harry murmured, his eyes trained on an older muggle in a green uniform with loads of colorful ribbons on his chest. “Be quiet and follow me.”

Susan stayed right up against his side as they got close to where the muggle he was watching stood talking to other muggle men. She kept her eyes on the muggle and was able to see the exact second that Harry cast something on him and his eyes glazed over.

“I’ve got to go,” the muggle said in a deep tone that the other men clearly responded immediately to. “Carry on men.”

“What’s he doing?” Susan whispered in Harry’s ear as the muggle turned around and began strutting off importantly with Susan and Harry following behind him beneath the cloak.

“Leading us to the weapons storage,” Harry said smugly. “But, er, don’t tell Mione. I told her we’d get it without imperio.”

Susan huffed out a quiet laugh as the muggle man led them to a fenced in area and flashed his badge multiple times to get through all sorts of gates and checkpoints. They tiptoed behind him into a building half the size of the black lake with thick metal doors and equally thick metal walls.

“Holy fuck,” Harry breathed when the fluorescent lights kicked on in the room the muggle man led them to. “Sue... I- I think this is the most illegal thing we’ve ever done.”

Susan nodded dumbly, too overcome by all the complex and dangerous looking metal machines to even know what to say. Harry’s eyes were glittering as brightly as Susan had ever seen before when he ordered the muggle man to demonstrate some of the machines for them.

Harry also sent off a quick patronus to the others, informing them that they were fine but they were going to be a while.

By the time they apparated back to Invisibility Way, they brought along two giant wicked machines, a wooden crate, and had obliviated the muggle man with the chest full of ribbons and the men in the security room after they destroyed all evidence of ever being there.

“What is that?” Hermione gasped when Harry stepped aside to show her the machines he brought.

“This, my dearest Hermione, is a machine the muggles call a ‘grenade machine gun’,” Susan said proudly. She patted the wooden crates Harry stole and positively beamed with excitement. “And these are full of ‘incendiary ammunition’.”

“Bloody wicked,” Charlie breathed. He walked slowly around the weapon and looked it over carefully. “It doesn’t have any electricity?”

“Nope.” Harry was beaming too, even when Hermione’s face turned apoplectic. “Come off it Mione, they didn’t have ‘bombs’, this was the next best thing.”

“Do you even know how to work it?” Draco asked, walking slow circles around the machines as well. “It looks complicated.”

“We got a demonstration,” Susan said without showing the giggles trapped in her chest. “Are you lot ready then?”

“I will be when I get my wand back,” Charlie said pointedly. He disarmed Susan weakly with her own wand before tossing it back to her. “Don’t steal my wand again.”

“I’ll take that under consideration,” she said seriously.

“And this... this is really our best revenge?” Draco asked slowly. “Blowing up my home? I really don’t think my father is going to be pleased when he gets out of Azkaban.”

“He’ll get over it,” Harry said shortly. “Cissa said she’s always wanted to design and build a new home anyway, so no real harm done.”

Draco seemed too shocked for words for a moment by Harry’s blasé tone. “But...”

“Nope.” Harry held his hand up and cut Draco’s complaint off. “You owed me a favor and the favor is I don’t wanna hear you complain about it. If there’s anything you want from inside then I’ll get it, but that’s it.”

“I—” Draco shook his head, “There’s nothing. Let’s get this over with.”

“Draco and I first then,” Harry said firmly with a small glance towards Susan and Fred both. “We’re going to make sure there’s no house-elves or peacocks on the grounds before you all grab the machines and follow behind.”

Susan loved that Harry thought of house-elves in a time like this. She knew how excited he was for this, how much he’s been looking forward to taking something from Timmy like Timmy did him, and he still stopped to think of house-elves.

How anyone considered Harry to be evil was beyond her.

“When I send the message, Charlie bring Susan and the machines, Fred bring Theo and Hermione. Everyone know what they’re doing?”

Everyone nodded so Harry smiled wickedly before giving them a two fingered salute. “See ya in a few.”

As soon as Harry and Draco disappeared, Theo turned to Susan.

“How did you guys get a demonstration of military grenade machine guns?”

“Magic,” Susan quipped.

Charlie suddenly laughed, a full on belly laugh that had him bent over and his eyes tearing up. “Harry fucking Potter,” he gasped. “Merlin, Freddie, you have to marry him.”

Fred nodded while he too joined his brother in laughter.

Susan knew Harry and Fred were going to be together forever, but she still rolled her eyes with Hermione over it.

Boys were ridiculous.

Susan was worrying just a little as time kept ticking on and Harry hadn’t sent a signal yet.

“What’s taking so long?” she snapped, checking the clock and seeing that they’d already been gone for twenty minutes. “We should go and make sure they didn’t get captured or something.”

“It’ll be fine,” Theo tried to assure her. Which was hilarious because Theo looked just as worried as she was. “Harry would send a message to Snape if he got captured and we would have heard him screaming from here.”

“If we don’t hear from him in ten minutes then I’m going to check on them,” Charlie said. He was watching the clock with just as much single minded focus as Fred. “I should never have let him talk me in to this,” he muttered quietly. “Snape’s going to bloody murder me if Harry gets hurt.”

Susan scoffed, scathing and disdainful.

As if Snape was the one they needed to worry about if Harry was hurt.

Exactly eleven minutes later, Charlie got to his feet with a solemn expression. “Malfoy Manor, right? I’m gonna go find the boys.”

Susan didn’t even bother to ask him to take her, he wouldn’t and she didn’t have time to argue with him, she just nodded and watched silently with the others while Charlie disapparated with a sharp crack.

The four of them left in Harry’s sitting room were tense and on edge while they waited for some sort of sign, some sort of signal.

Why, why, had they let ‘Step Two’ be Harry and Draco clearing the manor by themselves?

Charlie wasn’t gone long, thankfully, but when he returned Susan thought she might kill Harry.

“This is Blippy, Roo, Grog, and Filly,” Charlie said, waving his hands at the four emaciated and teary eyed house-elves he brought with him. “Harry was healing their injuries, he said ‘time got away from him’ but he’s ready for us now.”

“It is Roo’s fault!” one of the house-elves, a female if the little blood stained and ripped skirt was any indicator, wailed while tears spilled down her cheeks. “Roo was so- so happy to be seeing Master Draco she was delaying Mister Harry from his planning!!”

“Oh for the love of...” Theo muttered. “Mavis!”

Susan ignored Theo while he and Hermione patiently explained to Mavis that it seemed like he had some unexpected guests to care for at least until they got back. She went over to the machines and grabbed one in each hand before giving Charlie an expectant look. “Let’s go,” she said.

“Yes ma’am,” Charlie laughed. He shuffled awkwardly up to her and hooked his arm on her right arm as if it was entirely natural to put his bare skin on something that was cool and hard instead of warm and soft. “Let’s go blow up a manor,” he said teasingly.

Susan held on tight to the heavy equipment they brought and closed her eyes while it felt like she was being pulled through a straw and unfolded on the other end.

She looked around interestedly when they landed, the machines landing with loud and heavy thunks. Charlie had brought them to the edge of the woods that surrounded the back of Draco’s ancestral home.

“Where is Harry?” she hissed at Charlie while he put up a quick privacy shield.

“He’ll be here in a minute. He’s getting something for Mrs Malfoy,” Charlie muttered while he began tinkering with the machines. “Mind showing me how to ‘load’ these? Harry told me to get them ready.”

Susan sighed and pushed him away before he could break them. She began prepping the machines, although she couldn’t load them until Theo finished with the house-elves and came with the ammunition.

“What’d you tell Freddie to make him change his mind on going with Harry earlier, anyway?” Charlie asked curiously while he watched Susan mimic the muggle’s instructions. “I asked him after you left, but he refused to tell me.”

“I told him if he didn’t let me go with Harry that I’d shag you while he was gone,” Susan said shamelessly. “You’re quite fit, you know.”

She glanced up from the machines and grinned slyly to see Charlie’s ears had turned a truly terrible shade of red.

“I do not ‘shag’,” he said drily. “And I certainly don’t shag the underage niece of the head of the department of magical law enforcement.”

“Oh?” Susan opened the ammunition slot on both machines and gave Charlie a frank look. “Do you not shag at all or do you prefer to be in love first?”

“Don’t make it sound so terrible,” Charlie crossed his arms across his chest defensively. “There’s nothing wrong with waiting for love before you go sharing such an intimate experience with someone.”

Besides it was dreadfully boring, she supposed he wasn’t necessarily wrong. Susan preferred to branch out though, experience what she could while she could. She had loads of time for ‘love’ later in life if she wanted it. At least Blaise understood her, even if all of her other romantically attached friends didn’t.

“Of course not,” Susan smiled placatingly while she heard the others apparate close-by. “If you happen to change your mind about waiting for true love, the niece of the head of the DMLE turns seventeen in February.”

It was an excellent boost to her confidence to see Charlie reduced to a sputtering mess while the others drug the crate to their spot.

“Not using magic is ridiculous,” Theo hissed, his face red and sweaty already. “Harry’s being absurd.”

“He’s being smart,” Susan corrected him. She heard footsteps crunching leaves nearby and perked up. “And here he comes so shut up and be ready for step three.”

“What’s step three?” Draco asked as he came jogging up to them, his arms buried in various boxes and bags.

Susan and Harry shared a gleeful smile.

“Boom,” Susan answered him.

It took a few minutes of Harry and Susan struggling to load the machines up the precise way the muggle showed them.

“How many people were inside?” Theo asked.

“Four,” Draco answered him, his eyes bright and anticipatory. “They’ve destroyed the manor. My father would die if he saw it.” He held up his hand, a fistful of various colored wands clenched tightly. “It’ll be difficult for them to put the flames out without these,” he sneered.

“Guess we’re about to test that theory.” Susan laughed. She looked over at Harry and saw that he was in the same position in front of his machine as she was. “Ready Harry?”

“On three?” Harry said, his voice tight with the same excitement that was quickening Susan’s blood.

Susan looked through the telescope hooked to her machine and saw the back of the manor centered in her view.

“On three,” she agreed.

“One...”

Hermione grabbed Theo’s hand tightly.

Harry and Susan slammed the ammunition in place.

“Two...”

Charlie threw up a protective shield around the seven of them.

Susan pulled back the lever and moved her hand to the heavy trigger in front of her.

“Three!”

Susan pulled the trigger—

Once...

Twice...

Three times.

The noise was ear-splitting, Susan’s ears were ringing and causing her to feel a bit dizzy as the grenades flew between the trees and whizzed through the backyard before—

BOOM!

Susan couldn’t hear Harry when she turned to look at him and he said something to her with wide and shocked eyes, but she read his lips and was pretty sure he said ‘boom’.

Yeah. Boom.

The others stood there, their gazes shocked as screams erupted from inside the manor while it looked like the entire posh foundation shook before slowly sinking in itself.

It took a second, but then more explosions happened from inside the manor and flames suddenly shot up in the air.

“Oh my god,” Susan sighed. “It’s beautiful.”

And it was. The orange flames got higher and higher, uncontrollable and destructive. She could feel the heat from their position and had to hold a hand up in front of her face to keep the smoke and ashes from blowing in her eyes.

“Yep, time to go,” Charlie yelled hastily over the sounds of actual death and destruction that Susan couldn’t stop staring at. “C’mon, now.”

“One more thing!” Theo shouted. “Fred, do it now!”

Fred’s face lit up with a laugh Susan couldn’t hear over the continuing collapse of Malfoy Manor. She saw as he raised his wand and aimed it in the sky above the manor.

”Fulgervare!” Fred shouted.

Susan let out a happy whoop of laughter as a golden sparkling lightning bolt was shot in the air above the manor.

Hermione was a genius.

If Timmy and his death eaters could leave behind a calling card, so could they.

When they returned to Invisibility Way, ditching the evidence in the broom shed, even Draco was caught up in the triumphant and jubilant feeling of the group.

“Mission accomplished,” Harry shouted, his hearing probably still just as poor as Susan’s was.

She kind of understood now why the muggle military man wore earplugs when he’d demonstrated the machine for them.

“You did it!” Fred laughed. He kissed Harry quickly, his eyes bright and adoring. “You’re mad, darlin, absolutely mad!!”

“Did you see the flames?” Draco asked. His face was pale and he was clutching his mother’s items close to his chest, but his grey eyes were bright. “Just... BOOM!”

“Boom,” Hermione giggled, collapsing on the sofa with a shocked, but pleased, expression on her face. “I can’t believe muggles have access to weapons like that! That’s more destructive than almost any spell!”

“Muggles are insane,” Theo said. “Absolutely—”

“Would anyone like to explain to me why there are four new house-elves sobbing in our kitchen?”

All seven of them turned as one to see Snape standing in the doorway, an inscrutable look on his face.

“Er...”

“Well I’m headed out,” Charlie said brightly. “Fred, got time to show me the shop before I head over to Grimmauld with Mum and Gin?”

“Yep,” Fred agreed quickly. He pecked Harry on the cheek and winked at him before he and his brother all but ran from the room, headed straight to the floo in the library.

Cowards.

“Harry, what have you done?” Snape asked slowly, looking the five of them over carefully. “What is on your clothes?”

“Hm?” Harry glanced down and Susan internally groaned to see black ‘gun powder’ coating the front of his shirt and down his trousers, a look she shared when she checked. “Aah, well, you see... we... blewupMalfoyManor,” Harry said in a rush with his carefully practiced charming smile.

Snape’s mask cracked for just a second, there was just a brief look of utter shock before he blinked and was opaque once more. “You have done what?” he hissed.

Susan saw Theo, Draco, and Hermione ducking out of the room from the corner of her eyes.

Merlin they had the worst friends.

Susan squared her shoulders and faced Snape. “We blew up Malfoy Manor,” she said firmly. “Blew it to pieces.”

“You...” Snape’s dark eyes bulged as he looked between Susan and Harry. “You blew up Malfoy Manor?”

“Yup.” Harry flicked his fingers towards Susan and cleaned the ash off her with a warm breeze of magic. “Timmy wasn’t there, but unless they apparated quick, we killed four death eaters.”

Snape’s eyes flicked with a bunch of different emotions before finally settling on something that looked like exhaustion. “How long until I should expect aurors to show up at Spinners End?”

“You shouldn’t,” Harry shrugged. “Learned from that experience, didn’t I? No underage magic was done and we blew the manor up with muggle machines.”

“‘Muggle machines’,” Snape repeated tonelessly. “And where did you acquire these machines?”

“Her royal highnesses armory,” Susan grinned. “You should have seen it Snape, it was amazing.”

Harry and Susan stood shoulder to shoulder while they waited for Snape’s inevitable explosion.

Susan expected a whole variety of screams and insults to come pouring from Snape’s mouth. Anything from ‘have you lost your Merlin damned mind?’ to ‘you absolute imbecile!’

What she didn’t expect was for Snape’s shoulders to sag and for him to peer at Harry closely. “Are you injured, Harry?”

“Nope.”

Snape glanced at Susan, “And you, Miss Bones?”

“I’m fine, sir,” Susan said politely.

Snape nodded and watched Harry with an odd look for a long moment. “Please have Narcissa find something to do with the house-elves,” he said quietly. “I will see you at breakfast.”

Harry’s brows were nearly to his hairline when he turned to Susan after Snape just turned around and abruptly left the room.

“Did he- is he... what just happened?” Susan asked disbelievingly. “I thought he would yell.”

Harry shook his head slowly, “I told you he’s depressed,” he murmured. “Must be worse than I thought.”

Susan looked towards the spot Snape disappeared and thought maybe Snape was more than just depressed, he seemed really just defeated. Like Harry could have admitted to killing the Minister himself and Snape wouldn’t have reacted at all.

“Yeah, maybe,” Susan hummed noncommittally. “Wanna go see if Hermione and Theo want to play cards?”

Susan was still riding the high of their successful mission for the rest of the weekend. In fact, it wasn’t until she returned home on Monday afternoon that she even realized her ‘phantom pains’ in her right arm hadn’t bothered her once since the operation began.

Which she certainly would not be mentioning to Lupin the next time she saw him, she couldn’t stand to see the smug look on his face when she confirmed that it probably was ‘all in her mind’.

***

CONVICTED DEATH EATER LUCIUS MALFOY MANOR BURNT TO THE GROUND!
Law enforcement responded to calls of a magical residence burning in Wiltshire yesterday evening. When aurors Johnathan Abbott and Blue Ritters returned from the scene, they described the manor as ‘a complete loss’.
Despite the presence of stars creating a lightning bolt hovering above the burnt manor and the yet-to-be-identified bodies, Auror Abbott stated that ‘they found no proof that the fire was started by magical means’.
Auror Ritters wrote that the residence belonged to none other than Lucius Malfoy, who is currently serving a life sentence in Azkaban for his actions in May under the servitude of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
“It’s a historical loss, but no less than Malfoy deserves,” Minister Fudge said firmly when asked for a comment. “I believe the message is quite clear; it does not pay to work for You-Know-Who.”
I reached out to my friend and close correspondent, recent hero of the Hogsmeade Battle, Harry Potter, and asked for his opinion on the mark lingering in the sky above the destruction, as it is in the shape of his infamous scar from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
“Sounds like there were death eaters who messed up a spell,” Harry wrote in his response. “Unless there’s a vigilant group out blowing up houses; has anyone checked with Dumbledore?”
Due to Albus Dumbledore’s well-known history and recent arrest for running vigilante groups, i sought him out for a comment. Unsurprisingly, Dumbledore was unable to be found for a comment.
While Lucius Malfoy may be mourning the loss of his manor, the rest of the wizarding world rejoices in seeing a death eater get his due.
~Head Journalist, Rita Skeeter
For more on the Battle of Hogsmeade and Harry and his friends’ heroic actions, see page 3.
For more on Albus Dumbledore’s criminal history and past mistakes, along with information on his upcoming appeal to return to Hogwarts as Headmaster, see page 5.

Chapter Text

July 2

Stab his forehead with a basilisk fang?

No. The poison would stop his heart before he could be healed.

Antivenom first, then stab him?

If it didn’t work when he was twelve, it won’t work now.

Partial lobotomy?

That’s hardly different than killing him. It is a soul attached to him, not a parasite.

... it is a type of parasite.

No lobotomy.

Infect him with vampire venom? Then use basilisk venom once he’s changed?

Take his magic and make him an outcast from society? Harry would prefer death.

Could a dementor suck one specific soul from him?

Is it worth the risk if not?

... Harry certainly has a soul of his own, right?

Right.

Ludicrous to imagine otherwise.

Hit him with the killing spell and hope he gets lucky twice?

Severus scoffed at his own desperate idea.

It was two weeks in to summer break, two week spent isolated in the office Harry gave him in Invisibility Way searching desperately for an answer to this unsolvable puzzle.

And Severus was failing. Failing the child he swore to protect. Swore for Lilly’s sake. Swore for the child’s sake. Swore for his own sake.

But failure meant certain death, so Severus persisted in his research.

He took sparse breaks; always for breakfast with Harry, and occasionally throughout the day to check on the child and ensure he was not blowing up any more manors.

Severus knew Harry was bitterly disappointed to be so easily kicked off his quidditch team, Merlin knows that Severus felt the blow as if it were his own dream being shattered, but the child was outrageous and blatant in his revenge.

He also apparently had his friends invent a Harry Potter version of a Dark Mark.

Which was amusing, certainly, but also disturbing.

Yet, when Severus went to admonish him for his brash and Gryffindor-like actions, he considered how Harry may never get the opportunity to play professional quidditch and deflated.

‘I’ll play when Timmy’s dead.’

Who cared what crimes Harry committed now?

Who cared what chaos Harry brewed?

The child had a timer counting down above his head and Severus would allow him whatever happiness he could acquire while he was still able to do so. If that happiness came from robbing the British Department of Defense, liberating tortured house-elves, and blowing up houses, then so be it. Because Severus knew, knew it from the moment he read Barty’s letter, that he was going to have to take it from him eventually.

At some point in the near future, Severus was going to have to inform Harry of what curse he carried, of what choices he had.

He vehemently prayed that he had a cure for the curse before he had to do so.

After a week in to summer, Severus had temporarily given up on finding a ritual to separate the horcrux from the host. That had been Barty’s sole focus, finding a way to spare Harry from having to be ‘destroyed beyond magical repair’.

Severus moved his focus on ways to destroy the child without killing him.

Which, while sounding impossible, Severus had initially believed to have an answer somewhere within the magical world. In a world where basilisks could be slayed by prepubescent boys with swords, surely there was a solution to this inexplicable problem.

And yet, despite his own brilliance and the vast amount of books on all variety of topics available to him, it was not until Harry sent Nymphadora to bother him that he had any sort of a breakthrough.

Severus should have known that she would be coming. Harry had been quite stubborn during breakfast when he questioned Severus on his plans for the day.

“D’you wanna go see Fred’s shop today?” Harry had asked between sips of his espresso. “They opened yesterday. I didn’t go because Fred said it was going to be a mad house and I didn’t much fancy getting trampled, but Susan and Neville are going today. You could come too, if you wanted.”

“While that sounds precisely like an activity I would positively love to do, I’m afraid I am quite busy today.”

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “With what?”

“Work,” Severus told his nosy child shortly. “Did Frederick have a successful opening day?”

“Don’t do that,” Harry snapped. “Don’t change the subject, Sev. What’re you working on in there?”

“Potions,” Severus lied, his tone now matching Harry’s in its irritation. “You are busy with your projects, I am busy with mine.”

Harry’s face tightened for a moment before he sighed and slumped down in his chair. “I don’t have to be busy, if you want to hang out? I didn’t- I didn’t think you’d be jealous. I’ll tell Susan and Neville to go without me today, we can hang out.”

“No, do not do that,” Severus said, a touch hastily. “I truly am busy Harry, not jealous. Go spend time with your friends.”

Merlin only knew how long he would be able to do so.

Harry hummed, unconvinced and suspicious, but he dropped it after that.

Severus should have remembered that Harry has never truly dropped a subject regarding someone else’s business in his life.

Harry had barely been gone for an hour before there was a soft knock on the office door.

Severus sighed and cleared the book on African Wixen Rituals to Eternal Life away. “Enter,” he said.

The door opened and Nymphadora poked her head inside. Her hair was its usual shade of pink, in a chin length bob today, and her eyes were a dark violet.

“Hello,” she said, slipping inside and closing the door behind her. “I’ve been sent to cheer you up.”

“Have you?” Severus drawled with a roll of his eyes. He moved to the matching green chairs in front of the fire and gestured for Nymphadora to sit with him. “Harry, I presume?”

“Harry,” Nymphadora confirmed as she easily took Harry’s usual chair. She pulled a package from her pocket and Severus nearly smiled to see Sugar Quills emerge.

He had asked Harry once, years ago, as a jest, to bring him sugar quills from Honeydukes and the child convinced himself it was Severus’ favorite sweet.

It hadn’t been, at the time, though he did prefer them now.

“He also sent these,” Nymphadora pulled one out and handed it to Severus with a playful smile. “Just in case I wasn’t enough to cheer you up on my own.”

“Harry is a menace,” Severus said quietly, accepting the sugar quill with a fond look. “Thank you.”

“I think he’s worried about you,” Nymphadora said, taking one of the quills out for herself. “He said you’re depressed and ‘drowning your grief in potions’, his words there.”

“Did he?” Severus raised an interested brow at Nymphadora. “That hardly sounds like an observation Harry would make.”

“He was pretty adamant. He seemed to think I needed an excuse to come bother you,” Nymphadora winked coyly. “But he said you’re depressed and hiding away from everyone and drowning yourself in potions and if you didn’t yell at him for stealing ‘grenade guns’ that it was ‘worse than he thought’.”

Severus stared at Nymphadora for a long moment before letting out a huff of a laugh. “The brat acts as if I have not been letting him get away with much worse crimes for years. Since we met, in fact.”

“Really?” Nymphadora kicked her legs over the armrest of her chair so she could turn to face Severus while she leaned against the other armrest. “Like what?”

Severus allowed a small smile to curl the edges of his lips up as he recalled Harry’s first year at Hogwarts.

“He once broke a classmates wand because she taunted him for not having a proper family to return home to for the holidays.”

“And you didn’t even give him detention?” Nymphadora guessed.

“Of course I did.” Severus stared at her blandly for a moment before smirking, “For doing it in front of witnesses.”

Nymphadora let out a peal of laughter that gave Severus the opportunity to look her over carefully. The bruises beneath her eyes, the ones that persisted for days after the battle, were diminished, leaving her face as bright and youthful as it had always been.

“You look better,” Severus told her gently after her laughter died down. “You spoke with Amelia?”

“I did,” Nymphadora said, a slight line creasing the space between her brows now. “She wasn’t mad, or upset even, she said I saved Susan’s life and thanked me for it.”

“Rightfully so,” Severus told her with a curt nod. “And now, thanks to your efforts, Miss Bones is sporting a golden arm and stealing military grade equipment from her royal highnesses armory.” Severus grabbed his tea from his table and raised it to Nymphadora, “Cheers.”

Nymphadora tilted her head in a mock-bow and smiled unrepentantly. “And since you didn’t give Harry detention for snapping a wand when he was eleven, I guess his destruction of a ‘historical manor’ falls on you.”

Severus laughed quietly again, momentarily relaxed and feeling rather nostalgic for the days when Harry was a much smaller and more easily managed child.

Not fully managed, Merlin knows Harry has never been a manageable child, but he had once been less overall chaotic than he was now.

“Truthfully, Miss Parkinson’s wand was the least of my worries when Harry was a first year,” Severus said. “In fact, only months after that, he... he...” Severus’ eyes lit up as he recalled precisely what Harry did at the end of his first year. “That’s it,” he breathed. He gave Nymphadora a true smile, appreciation for her interruption coursing through him, “You’ve solved it!”

Severus lunged to his feet and immediately tore to his bookcase, much to Nymphadora’s bemusement.

“What did I solve?” she asked as Severus quickly grabbed seven different books of varying thickness off his shelf.

“A terribly difficult dilemma,” Severus said absently, his mind whirling with possibilities. “Nymphadora, excuse me, may we reschedule this intervention for another time? I assure you I am not depressed and I may finally have found a solution to the problem I have been occupied with.”

“Sure.” Nymphadora got to her feet and gave Severus an uncertain smile. “Maybe we could have dinner next week? Make up for that date those pesky death eaters interrupted?”

“Certainly,” Severus murmured. He took his stack of books to his desk and gave her a true look of appreciation. “I will see you then.”

Severus waited until Nymphadora left the office, a puzzled smile on her face, before sitting and opening the first book.

The philosophers stone.

Harry had it.

He stole it in his first year, and Lord knows he would hardly trade ‘Dumbledore’s precious red rock’ for anything less than a guaranteed position as Minister of Magic.

All Severus needed to do now, was discover if the Elixir of Everlasting Life was enough to allow Harry to be killed to destroy the horcrux without actually ending his life.

Severus began eagerly reading through the tomes, searching for every mention of the stone he could find, and an idle smirk graced his lips.

Harry would be pleased, undoubtedly. If this was the ticket to saving the child, then he could reign over Great Britain as the Minister of Magic for an eternity.

At some point, Mavis and one of Narcissa’s elves entered the office and informed him that ‘Master Harry’ wanted him to appear at dinner, but Severus waved them off.

This was the first true break he had gotten all summer, the first idea that was born out of more than desperation. He would miss this meal with Harry for the possibility of ensuring he had a lifetime of meals to share with him.

Severus charmed a portion of the office wall to give him space to hang parchments filled with his notes, notes that once hung were visibly only to him. He quickly filled it with careful notes on alchemy, notes on the elixir itself, and notes on Nicholas Flamel’s past inventions and achievements.

The Elixir of Everlasting Life was nothing more than a potion brewed with the transfigured properties of the Philosopher’s Stone. Flamel and his wife, Perenelle, had both taken the elixir back in the 1400’s, and were rumored to be alive and well today.

Severus had a brief recollection of Albus stating that the Flamel’s would be ‘moving on’ now that their stone was destroyed; and indeed without the stone to give them the properties to continue brewing the potion, they would die, but not yet.

Severus was confident they were still alive.

Severus, never having had a firm grasp of the various complex concepts of alchemy, had to slow his initial research to ensure he understood the basic concepts behind the creation of the stone. He spent the rest of the day in his office, digging out all his texts on alchemy that he could find.

He continued working in to the night, ignoring all interruptions that were not Harry himself, as he educated himself on alchemy. Many texts on the subject were difficult to decipher. A fruitless effort to dissuade others from attempting to create their own stone, but Severus persisted until he could keep his eyes open no longer and fell asleep in his chair.

After all, he did not care to create a stone himself, he merely needed to know if the drinker of the elixir could be killed and still survive.

Severus was jolted awake by a harsh fist pounding on his office door. He glanced down at himself and cringed to see that he was still in his rumpled clothes from yesterday.

Severus cleared his throat as he ground the sleep from his eyes. “Just a moment,” he called while he stretched the kinks out of his neck.

Thirty-six was much too old to be sleeping on a chair, no matter how obstinately plush it was.

“Open the door or I swear to god I’m going to fuckin kick it down.”

Severus glanced at the door with interest as he waved his wand to remove the locks and allowed Harry to enter.

“You missed breakfast,” Harry said hotly the moment the door opened. He crossed his arms as he kicked the door closed behind him. “You didn’t come to dinner last night, you didn’t go hang out with Tonks yesterday, you’re just wallowing in misery Sev. What’s it going to take to cheer you up?”

It was heartening to know that, despite Harry’s overall self-absorption, that he was capable of caring after others. Even if that care was quite displaced at present time.

Severus stifled a yawn before standing and wincing at the ache in his back. “I apologize for missing breakfast Harry,” he said with what he hoped was a genuine amount of regret in his voice. “I appreciate your concern, but I am not ‘depressed’ and do not need ‘cheered up’. I am busy. Have you eaten yet?”

Harry sent a blatant look at the clock ticking away on the wall and Severus followed his eyes only to see that it was nearly noon.

It was a morbid thought, but Severus saw the time and mentally cursed himself for missing one of what could possibly be a small number of breakfasts with Harry that he had left.

“Harry, I truly apologize. I had a breakthrough on my work and had fallen asleep quite late. Would you settle for lunch after I shower?”

“I can’t,” Harry said, his face still suspicious and his posture defensive. “I told Cissa I’d go shopping with her today, it was part of the deal for destroying the manor and if I cancel then she’s gonna find a way to make me regret it, I’m sure. Will you, please, take a fucking shower and go outside or something today?”

Severus shook his head at the abrupt reversal of roles between them. “I will,” he said, not quite lying. He would shower, but if Harry would be gone with Narcissa then Severus would continue to decipher the properties of the Philosopher’s Stone. “Are you traveling far to go shopping?”

“We’re taking a portkey to France,” Harry rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms. “She says there’s a way to look like ‘a well dressed lover of athletics’ instead of ‘a sweaty teenager’. She also said she knows a spot where I can get magic contacts, which would be a real boon, wouldn’t it?”

Severus snorted and subtly closed the book he had left open on his table last night. “It would certainly keep you from being easily blinded in a duel,” he agreed. “I shall see you afterwards then,” he told him with another appropriately apologetic look. “After I ‘take a fucking shower’ and ‘go outside or something’.”

Harry nodded and grabbed the doorknob. “I’m having the elves watch you today,” he warned him. “They’ll tell me if you just sit in here all day today.”

“Goodbye Harry,” Severus drawled pointedly. “Be sure to inform Narcissa that you prefer green tops when you are attempting to appear charming.”

Harry scoffed, but his expression lightened at Severus’ jest. “I’ll be back around five,” he said, a blatant warning.

“Be safe, brat.”

“Take a shower, Sev.”

Severus waited until Harry’s footsteps disappeared before he took off his outer robes and rolled his sleeves up.

He glanced up at the clock and set a quick timer for four o’clock.

Then he threw himself back in to his research.

Severus was eventually silently debating on simply reaching out to Nicholas Flamel and praying he did not inform Albus or attempt to prosecute Harry for the theft when he was interrupted with a firm knock on his door.

On the one hand, it could create a whole host of problems for Severus and Harry both if Flamel informed Albus of his questions. On the other hand...

Severus thought perhaps it said quite a bit about Nicholas Flamel that he never joined Albus’ prestigious Order of the Phoenix.

He glanced up at the clock and grimaced to see it was already a quarter past three. He would have to wrap his research up soon and shower and make an appearance outside of his office lest Harry’s ever growing band of house-elves tattled on him to the ‘Master of the house’.

It hardly mattered. Despite Severus’ hopes, there was absolutely nothing within any of these books that said if the drinker of the Elixir would be granted with an inability to be killed or not. They all merely stated that the drinker would not ‘perish from natural causes’.

Which was hardly hopeful.

“Enter,” Severus sighed, pushing his research away to be continued after dinner.

There used to be a day, approximately six years ago, where Severus could spend entire summers in this office or laboratory without ever being bothered.

Then Albus sent him on a quest to give The Boy-Who-Has-Too-Many-Friends his Hogwarts letter and Severus has not had a moment of peace since.

Instead of Nymphadora, Mavis, or Harry, as Severus expected, it was Frederick who entered with his chin held high and his shoulders square.

“I’d like to talk to you,” he said. “May I sit?”

Severus was bemused by this grave behavior from the mischievous young man. He gestured for Frederick to sit in the wooden chair across the desk from him.

Severus waited with as much patience as he was capable of as Frederick appeared to be drawing up his courage to say something of some importance.

“You’re Harry’s parent,” Frederick finally said quite bluntly. “And on his birthday I’d like to ask him to marry me.” Frederick pulled a black velvet box from his pocket and slid it on the desk to Severus.

“I know we’re young, I know we can’t even get married for another year, but I love him sir.” Frederick’s voice was steady as Severus silently inspected the golden band within the box.

It was a handsome ring, likely worth a small fortune. The proof of Frederick’s business successes glittered from the intermixed rubies and emeralds circling the band.

Sentimentality, Severus supposed. Further evidence that students so easily divided at eleven did not necessarily have to remain so.

“Harry is not yet sixteen,” Severus eventually said, entirely shocked both by the ring and the conversation itself. “‘Young’? You are both still children.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me Harry was ever a child,” Frederick challenged him. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that there’s a guarantee that five years from now there’ll be time for this. Hell,” Frederick chuckled mirthlessly, “tell me a year from now that Harry and I will both still be here. That one of us won’t be dead. Can you do that sir?”

Severus thought of Barty’s failed experiments. His own failures.

Harry was doomed to either die young or be hunted by a madman for an eternity.

There was no guarantee they would both still be around in a year, no guarantee that they would have the happy ending they desired and deserved.

“You should not propose because you fear the future,” Severus argued helplessly. It had happened the last war as well; people marrying left and right, terrified they would lose their chance to do so.

“I’m not.” Frederick was calm and confident, entirely in control of his emotions as Severus could feel his own spiraling. “I’m proposing because I love him sir. I don’t have a future that doesn’t have Harry in it. The battle in May just reminded me that life can be... it can be short, why not look for happiness now?”

“Why are you telling me this?” Severus asked after clearing his mind of the emotions that threatened to suffocate him from the inside. “What do you want from me?”

“Your blessing,” Frederick said simply. “You’re Harry’s parent, the only one he really has. I swear to you if you say yes then I’ll make sure he never feels unloved, never feels alone. I’ll do my best to protect him from his enemies and from himself. I swear it, sir.”

Severus ripped his eyes from the ring he’d been so distracted by to stare hopelessly in Frederick’s calm blue eyes.

Who could ask for more?

Who would say no to a possibility of a happy ending now for the young man who carried a cursed soul within a scar on his forehead?

Severus replaced the ring in the box and slid it back to Frederick.

“Harry could do much worse,” he told him truthfully. “You will not change your mind?”

“My—” Frederick’s eyes flashed with pain and he swallowed harshly. “My dad said that Weasley men only fall in love once sir. Harry’s it for me. And I think I’m it for him.”

Severus eyed the emerald promise ring on Frederick’s right hand. Potter’s symbol of his love, his claim on Frederick’s heart and his future.

“I believe you are,” Severus agreed. “Ask him.”

“Really?” Frederick’s previous expression of respectful solemnity slipped away and Severus was able to witness a joy so jubilant that it was nearly painful to witness through his own grieving eyes.

“Thank you sir!” Frederick jumped to his feet and offered Severus his hand. “You’ll never regret this, I swear.”

“I know.” Severus rose to shake Frederick’s hand and prayed that Harry and Frederick would both grow to have the future Frederick envisioned.

The more he experimented, the more he learned, the less he believed it.

Why not give Harry this opportunity now?

Is it kind or cruel to give him promises of a joyful future that shrinks with every failed experiment on the horcrux ring?

“I need to go, I have to get back to the shop. I told George I had a quick emergency to take care of and I think he’s under the impression Harry was executing another mad scheme,” Frederick grinned and repocketed the velvet box that carried his symbol of love for Severus’ son. “Thank you.”

Severus sank back to his seat and waited until Frederick was nearly out the office door before calling to him.

“Frederick?”

“I know.” Frederick turned and gave Severus a cheeky smirk. “If I hurt him then you’ll curse me for an eternity, right?”

“While that is entirely true, I was merely going to say that I believe Harry’s mother would be quite fond of you, if she were here,” Severus said lightly.

Severus had no right to say such a thing, he hadn’t known Lily Evans in twenty years, yet he was sure it was true. Frederick had grown to be a fine young man who never wavered from his commitment to Lily’s only son. And, as Lily had married James Potter, Severus doubted if she would disapprove of Frederick.

“Thank you,” Frederick said once more.

Severus waited until Frederick’s footsteps were no longer audible before summoning a drink.

“Here’s to Harry surviving to seventeen,” he murmured. He threw down the bourbon and put away his books and notes.

He would simply write to Flamel after dinner, it would be the quickest way to get the answers he desires with such an increasing desperation.

It was a risk, undoubtedly, but not an uncalculated one. And not one that did not carry the possibility of such high rewards.

***

Mister Flamel,
I hope this letter finds you well. I would like to discuss an aspect of your research on alchemy with you, in person if it is possible. I cannot share more details in a letter, though I can say that it is incredibly important and time is of the essence.
If you would kindly write me back informing me if this meeting would be possible, I would be grateful.
-S.S.

***

Severus’ world was rocked once more when he was woken in the middle of the night by the wards surrounding their home being broken that same night. He was certain it was not Harry or one of the other many occupants of Invisibility Way, as they had all agreed to inform him if they were going to be traveling between the hours of ten pm and eight am, due to the wards he had set. And, so far, everyone had stayed true to their word, even going so far as to only travel during the day to ease the stress on Severus.

Which meant this was not an expected guest.

Severus crept down the stairs, his wand ready, when there was a light knock on the door.

Probably not a Death Eater then.

Severus was taking no chances with a houseful of potential targets though, he raised his wand high when he called through the door, “Who is it?”

“Luna Elizabeth Lovegood.”

Severus hesitated before opening the door, it would do no good to insist the others utilize basic safety measures if he did not take them himself.

“You told me once that you would inform Harry it was your decision so he would not blame me, what was that decision?” Severus asked through the door.

“To be the thing Harry would miss the most in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament.”

Severus threw the door open with relief, then immediately pulled up short at the sight of Lovegood.

“Luna.” He reached out quickly for the girl. She was covered in blood, ashes, and mud. Her hair was tangled with a variety of leaves and other debris from the woods, as if she had been literally drug through the environment. The blood vessels in the whites of her eyes were burst and she was swaying where she stood. “What happened?” Severus asked. He put a quick arm around her shoulders and swore under his breath when her silver eyes rolled back in her head and she fell in a dead faint.

Severus caught her before she was injured further and carried her carefully to the sitting room.

“Mavis! Quickly!”

Severus wasted no time on pleasantries when Harry’s elf appeared.

“My kit,” he barked. “And— and fetch Draco and Harry at once.”

Severus cast a diagnostic on Lovegood and felt a chill go down his spine at the results.

Who on Earth had cast the Cruciatus Curse on the girl?

Chapter Text

July 3rd

Luna was humming absently at her dining room table, letting the bright sunshine filtering in through her kitchen windows warm her bare arms as she worked on a letter to Draco.

Dear Draco,
Living with Harry sounds very crazy. I like Harry very much, but I imagine you could eventually feel a little mad after being exposed to his wrackspurts so often. I’m sorry he blew up your house, although I’m not sorry if it means there’s innocent house-elves in a much safer home now. I’ve always wanted a house-elf to be friends with, I heard they’re excellent at adding cheering charms to their meals. Do you feel happier when you eat something the elves make?
... do you know how to cook?
Probably not.
My summer is quite normal. Daddy has been occupied with the Quibbler, like he usually is, but he said that perhaps later this month we can go on a trip together. I don’t know why, but I don’t believe him. He does lie quite often as you know.
I hope to see you soon, I miss you.
All my love,
Luna

Luna was smiling to herself as she tied her letter with a bright green ribbon. She knew that Draco was feeling a bit swept away with the craziness that Harry put out in the world so easily, but Luna liked it.

It was rare, finding someone who embraced insanity like Harry did.

Luna put her letter on the windowsill for her owl to pick up when she got back from hunting and went out to the printing room to check on her dad.

She walked on her tiptoes as she left their cheery yellow kitchen, as she knew that walking on her tiptoes was the best way to keep wrackspurts from invading her own brain.

And she had plenty of wrackspurts when summer first began.

Susan had been so close to death, so close to leaving Luna like her mom did, and Luna couldn’t handle it. She broke down and let all the wrackspurts invade her mind until it was so filled with buzzing that she couldn’t focus on anything else.

She was glad they were starting to go away, but she had a bad feeling they would come back soon.

So if dancing on her tiptoes made her lips curve up in a smile and delayed the invasion she felt coming on, then all the better.

“Daddy, would you like some tea?” Luna asked cheerfully when she danced in to the printing room. “Maybe some toast?”

“No thank you sweetheart.” Her dad was sitting on his favorite blue cushion on the floor next for the large and noisy printing machine. His blonde hair was pulled back away from his face and he was scribbling quickly on a piece of parchment floating in front of him. “Did you know that muggles have seen proof of a twenty foot tall hairprinth?” he asked Luna excitedly. “They have photos of its footprints and everything!”

Luna smiled patiently at the glazed look in his grey eyes, the same glazed look he’s had since the day her mom died and left him heartbroken, confused, and alone with a young daughter. Some days it was better, some days he looked and sounded like the dad she used to have, and other days, like today, he looked like he barely recognized her.

She blamed the wrackspurts. They got in her dad’s head and led him astray, they told him that it was easier to play make-believe instead of facing reality of a life left without his one true love.

Luna used to join him, in his land of make-believe, but then she made friends, real and true friends, who showed her that reality wasn’t too terrible by their sides.

Mister Lupin called it ‘codependent’ which sounded just fine to her. Humans were just like all other creatures, they needed others to survive.

“Of course,” she told her dad softly. “They call him ‘Big Foot’.”

“Amazing!” Her dad laughed and gave Luna a happy smile. “We should go find him!”

He won’t take you, the nargles whispered. Even if he could, he doesn’t mean it.

“That sounds wonderful,” Luna said. “Can we go before I go back to school?”

“Don’t be silly,” her dad laughed again, “you’re too young for school.”

Luna’s heart sank, but she kept up her gentle smile. “You’re right,” she agreed. “I’ll just go out back and explore for a while, okay? I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Yes, yes, go,” her dad said, his attention already back on his publication piece. “Be careful my LueBell.”

Tell him you love him. You’ll regret it if you don’t.

Luna scrunched her nose at the nargles, but did as they said. She walked carefully over to her dad and wrapped her thin arms around his shoulders tightly. “I love you,” she said.

“And you,” he murmured distractedly. “Go play LueBell, I’ll see you later.”

Luna felt her stomach clenching and the fine blonde hairs on her arms standing straight up at that, but she ignored it.

She had bad feelings about things all the time, it didn’t have to mean anything if she didn’t let it.

Luna carefully checked over their garden, lovingly tending to the flowers and herbs that she worked so hard on in the summers, and were inevitably dead when she came home each June. Neville had taught her a few spells to protect the garden from the elements and from stray creatures while she was gone, but she was pretty sure it was her dad who came out and tore up her flowers.

It wasn’t really his fault. He didn’t know any better, the flowers just made him sad sometimes. He would see her flowers and remember how her mom always wore them in her hair or tied together like necklaces, he couldn’t see the flowers as their own beauty anymore. Luna still could though.

After watering the garden and gently plucking away the leaves that had died, Luna got her faded purple shears from their hook on the side of the house and talked to the plants while she cut a few of them down.

“I’m very sorry Mister Flowers,” she said while she gathered the flowers, “but you’re going to a friend of mine. Draco’s mom is very sad right now, she doesn’t have her house or her husband and I think she must be feeling quite lost.” Luna frowned sadly at the bouquet she gathered, “You understand, don’t you? I’ve taken you from your home as well. But you can find a new home with Mrs Malfoy.”

Luna took her little bouquet inside and wrapped the stems up with twine before laying them with Draco’s letter and adding a little ps informing him that these were for his mother and she would know if he kept them for himself.

Draco was wonderful, sweet and smart and kind in the way that made creatures adore him, but he also liked to keep beautiful things for himself. Luna’s cheeks felt very hot when she remembered how he told her that she was beautiful, special, perfect, and unique. ‘Unique’ didn’t sound like an insult when Draco said it in his carefully cultured way, it sounded wonderful. And since Draco was wonderful, it made since that she also must be wonderful or else they would never be compatible.

Her task now finished, Luna slid on her favorite blue rain boots and headed out to the forest to see if she couldn’t find the pixie that had been flitting around at night sending small twinkles of light in her bedroom window.

Luna loved the forest behind her house. She loved the tall trees that were always lush and peaceful when she came out to explore. She brushed her hands along the trunk of her favorite tree, the one with the knobbly branches that made it a dab to climb. She called out greetings to the birds chirping in the sky as she walked carefully through the forest to find a rose bush.

If there were pixies hanging around, then there must be a rose bush nearby.

After quite some time of wandering and searching though, Luna threw herself on the ground with a huff of indignation.

“I’ll get some sugar cubes out for you, we’ll see if you show yourself then,” she called to the hypothetical pixie. “I just wanted to be friends with you.”

When the pixie still didn’t appear, Luna huffed again and cleared away the sticks on the ground behind her so she could lay back and appreciate the sunshine on her face.

She wished she could spend all her time in the forest. Hogwarts was magical, full of joy and optimism, but there was something so calming about the serenity of this forest. When the sun was in the perfect position, and the breeze was whispering softly, and Luna felt secure in knowing that the creatures that surrounded her were friendly, it was difficult not to close her eyes and drift away.

Luna drifted somewhere between asleep and awake and thought of her friends. She thought of Harry, so protective and strong. She pictured Susan, fierce and beautiful. Hermione and Theo, so alike in their wisdom and their caution. She pictured Neville who was so studious and so like her in his uncertainty in his place in the world. And Ron and Blaise, who found time for happiness and fun in almost every situation.

She also pictured Draco, with his sharp features and his soft heart. She knew when he asked her to allow him to court her, making her feel like a true fairytale princess, that they would have something truly amazing together.

Her lips were curled up in a soft smile as she dozed on the forest floor. She could have stayed there all day, just return home at dark and see if her dad had noticed her absence or not, if the nargles hadn’t interrupted her daydreams.

Don’t go home.

Why wouldn’t I go home?

It’s not safe.

Daddy’s there. I have to go home.

You can’t.

Is daddy hurt? I need to go help him.

Don’t go home.

I hate you. I hate you. I HATE YOU.

Luna was humming especially loudly to block out the nargles from her place deep in the forest behind her house.

Don’t go home.

Luna couldn’t hold back the sob that was choking her, nor the tears that were streaming freely. She scrambled up from the ground up the tree closest to her— she needed to see her house.

All the air in her body left in a quick rush when she was swaying on a branch and saw her house, the tall rook in the sky, and the smoke. Too much smoke. Too thick and too heavy to be from the chimney.

Luna pushed off from the trunk of the tree, jumping from much too high in the air, but landing gracefully on her feet. She took off running, straight to the smoke twirling upwards in the sky.

Luna burst through her back door, her water bucket from the yard full of rainwater and prepared to put out the fire. “Daddy!” she yelled through the smoke filling their kitchen. “Where are you?”

“Daddy isn’t here,” someone sneered before Luna was abruptly struck with a spell and everything went dark.

When Luna was abruptly drug back in to reality, the first thing she noticed was that the smoke filling her house was gone.

The next thing she noticed was her dad petrified and stiff as a board laying on the floor with his eyes wide and terrified.

“Daddy.” Luna crawled quickly from the spot by the sink where she’d been to her dad, but was stopped from reaching him by someone grabbing her ankle tightly and pulling her away.

“Aht, we want a word with you,” the person said. Luna turned and looked over her shoulder and her face paled to see two people, men, probably, based on their physique, in heavy black robes and expressionless white masks.

Death eaters.

The one who grabbed her ankle suddenly twisted it to where Luna either had to flip on her back or risk having her ankle broken. And she already didn’t have her wand or her knife, having a broken ankle would just leave her even more helpless.

She nearly hoped that Harry and Susan never found out about this, they’d be so disappointed in her lack of vigilance.

“I don’t know anything and my dad hasn’t done anything wrong,” Luna whispered tearfully. “Please, please let him go.”

“Not so tough without your friends around, are ya?” one of the men laughed.

It didn’t really bother her since it was true. Luna wasn’t so tough without her friends, but every creature on the planet was stronger in a pack.

The other man circled around Luna, sneering down at her until he stopped by her head, between her and her dad. “This is the one that the Malfoy boy is courting, isn’t it?” he asked.

Luna kept her eyes on the man in front of her and wasn’t able to move in time before the man behind her kicked the side of her head hard enough to cause her to cry out again and send black spots to obscure her vision.

“Not much of a looker, is she?” the one who kicked her laughed. “Pft, Lucius is probably crying in Azkaban to see how far his precious boy has fallen.”

“Don’t look like much of a brain either,” the one in front of her said.

“Please, my d-dad, let him go,” Luna pleaded quietly. They could laugh at her and torture her and kill her if they wanted, but her dad didn’t do anything wrong.

The death eater behind her suddenly grabbed her hair and lifted her up in the air, causing one of her blue boots to fall to the ground while she cried out from the pain.

“We need you to give Potter a message,” he sneered right in her face. “Listen closely girl, tell Potter to join our Lord or we are going to find each of you, all of his little followers, and kill you one by one while he watches. Can you tell him that?”

Luna didn’t answer, her entire head was screaming from the pain where she could feel individual strands of her hair detaching from her head.

“CAN YOU TELL HIM?!” the man screamed, shaking Luna as he did.

“Yes,” she wailed. “Yes, yes I can tell him.”

“Good.” The man dropped her to the ground and pulled his wand out. “When you tell him that, you tell him we aren’t playing games with him. Our Lord wants him by his side soon, or we’re going to kill you all.” He stared right at Luna as he turned his wand on her dad, her innocent and kind-hearted dad who could never have hurt a soul in his life. “When you tell Potter that, tell him that his little followers are next.”

It was cowardly, it was weak and despicable, but Luna knew what was coming and closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see it.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

She chanted it over and over in her head, using the words to block out the curse the man yelled. She pictured her dad when he was in the forest with her, teaching her about the creatures who owned the earth they lived on. She pictured his innocent eyes, his happy smile, and his face full of love for her to block out the flash of green light that was almost too bright for her to ignore even with her eyes closed.

He’s dead.

I hate you.

Luna started humming loudly when she felt the weight of the masked man’s eyes on her.

“What’s wrong with her?” the one behind her grunted, aiming a heavy kick to her back that sprawled her to the floor. “I thought the paper said she was Potter’s friend, not some escaped lunatic.”

The two men chortled and Luna blocked it out with an increase in the volume of her humming.

Their words couldn’t hurt her. They were plastic and she was glue and that meant their words didn’t mean anything.

According to what Hermione told her once when she was crying in the Ravenclaw Tower after Marietta made fun of her in front of all the other Ravenclaw’s anyway. It didn’t make much sense, but it was still a nice memory so Luna thought of it every time someone called her ‘Loony’.

“D’we just leave her?” the man asked. “Potter’ll come for her, won’t he?”

“Suppose so,” the other man agreed. “Go put the mark above the house, that’ll bring him here. The Dark Lord said break the followers though. Show them we’re better.”

Luna very much did not want to be broken. She also did not want to hear the two men arguing even over her own off-key hums.

Then Luna learned that Hermione was actually very wrong because words could hurt her. Specifically, ‘crucio’ could hurt her more than almost anything.

***
Get up and move.

No.

Go to Harry.

No.

You have to.

No.

Don’t you want to live?

... I don’t know.

Luna did eventually move though. She opened her eyes and saw her dad laying on the ground, his face so slack that he could be sleeping. She crawled over to him and kissed his forehead gently.

”Goodnight, sleep tight,” she whispered. She tucked his hair behind his ears, like he had done for her a million times and gently closed his eyelids. “I love you to the moon and back.”

***

When she thought about it later, Luna wasn’t entirely sure how she made it to the safe house that Harry gave her the address to after he bought it.

She knew that she walked, a lot.

But she kind of doubted that she walked clear from her house to his.

In the back of her mind, the part that wasn’t dazed and disoriented and pushing onward despite the pain in her legs and in her heart, she suspected some sort of accidental magic must have stretched out a helping hand.

She wished it had helped her when she needed it though.

Luna looked at her hand curiously like it was being seen through the end of a very dirty telescope. She lifted it curiously and knocked on the dark blue door in front of her.

Help is coming.

Don’t talk to me.

Luna heard someone with a silky voice, a reassuring voice that she knew she could trust, on the other side of the door. “Who is it?”

“Luna Elizabeth Lovegood.”

That wasn’t a good name anymore.

Luna wasn’t the moon, bright and mysterious.

She wasn’t Elizabeth, that had been her mom. Pandora Elizabeth.

She wasn’t Lovegood, that had been her dad. And he was gone now. She’d seen proof when the death eaters left and she was left laying on the floor, staring in to her dad’s empty eyes.

Pandora Elizabeth and Xenophilius Lovegood were dancing on the moon now.

And their daughter was alone in a cruel world that didn’t much care for her.

The voice on the other side of the door was hesitant, he must know that her name didn’t fit anymore. “You told me once that you would inform Harry it was your decision so he would not blame me, what was that decision?”

Answer him.

“To be the thing Harry would miss the most in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament,” Luna said in a slight daze. She wasn’t certain of what she was saying, but she knew it was the right answer to the riddle when the door flung open and it was Professor Snape standing there.

Good.

Professor Snape was trustworthy.

***

“Luna, it is time to wake up now.”

Luna slowly opened her eyes, not really wanting to be awake much. It had been a small act of kindness that her body finally collapsed after Professor Snape answered the door.

Awake was where it hurt.

Awake was where her dad was gone, off to the afterlife in the sky with her mom.

Awake was where she was an orphan.

There was someone tall, someone in a lot of black, standing in front of her. Luna grabbed their hand by her face as her mind went cloudy while the nargles decided it was their turn to speak.

The nargles didn’t always trust Luna to share their messages. Sometimes they just took over and left storm clouds in her head to distract her while they spoke.

Luna used to like the nargles choosing her; they made her feel special, like her mom used to say she was. ‘You have a gift Luna,’ her mom would whisper at night while she brushed Luna’s hair. ‘Not everyone does. You were blessed. You’re special.’

But then her mom died and the nargles didn’t help her. And now her dad was gone and the nargles didn’t tell her until it was too late.

Luna hated the nargles.

She didn’t want a gift.

She wanted her dad back, even if she hadn’t really had him in years.

“What??”

Luna blinked slowly, her eyelids were heavy and hard to control, but the clouds in her mind were washing away so it must be her turn to speak now.

“Hmm?” Luna looked up and saw that the tall man in black was Professor Snape, which made sense. Professor Snape was always there when someone needed him.

“Luna.” Professor Snape squeezed her hand and knelt down beside her. His dark eyes were intense and focused on her. “What did you say?”

“No idea,” Luna said. She looked around and saw that she must be in the bedroom Harry told her he painted purple just for her. She nearly smiled when she saw that she was laying in a bed of flowers. The floral sheets must be Mrs Malfoy’s idea, Harry could never have thought of that sort of detail himself.

Professor Snape cleared his throat and lifted his wand slowly in the hand that wasn’t still holding hers. “May I cast another diagnostic charm on you Miss Lovegood? I did cast one when you arrived, though I doubt if you remember it.”

“Of course.” Luna closed her eyes while she felt Professor Snape’s cool magic wash over her. She kept them closed even when she heard a little parchment pop in to existence.

“You will have no lasting physical injuries,” Professor Snape said with a little huff that made Luna smile. Professor Snape was such a pure soul, it was a wonder anyone was ever able to call him names. People could be so cruel to those that weren’t easily understood. “You will need to begin a potions regimen to treat the nerves in your legs. I have healed your other abrasions and lacerations.” He cleared his throat quietly before softly asking, “Are you able to tell me what happened?”

And that wiped the smile right off Luna’s face.

“Um, no thank you,” Luna said slowly. “It was very terrible.”

If she didn’t talk about it, then maybe it didn’t really happen.

She could hum her way through this summer, and every summer after this. She could lie to everyone when they asked her ‘how’s your father?’ She would just wave her hand and tell them that he’s very busy with his work.

She could make herself believe it.

“Luna, look at me.”

Luna carefully peeked one eye open and saw that Professor Snape’s face was soft and serious.

“You do not have to relieve it all right now,” he said. “You certainly do not have to tell me anything, but I believe it is helpful to talk to someone. Draco and his mother, Narcissa, are waiting in the hall. Would you like me to send them in?”

“Where’s Harry?” Luna asked. She thought she heard him yelling while she was unconscious, but that could have been a trick of her brain.

Professor Snape’s lips twitched, like he didn’t know if he was going to frown or smile. “Wrecking vengeance on your behalf, I’m certain,” he said. “Charles Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks accompanied him to your home after you arrived here. They went to check on your father and- and I have not seen Harry since they returned.”

Luna nodded slowly. “Daddy is very busy with work,” she whispered. She kept her eyes on Professor’s Snape’s white earlobe that was peeking through his dark hair, she didn’t want him to see her eyes while she tested her story out on him. “He isn’t home.”

“Luna...” Professor Snape ducked his head until she either had to meet his eyes or turn her own head. She very reluctantly met his eyes and felt tears prickling in the back of her own eyes to see his looking very sad for her. “Your father is gone, he was killed during the attack. Do you know that?”

“No,” Luna denied it. “He’s at work. He’s very busy. He isn’t home.”

Professor Snape’s eyes were still very sad as he grabbed her other hand and squeezed them both tightly, making her feel his coarse hands grounding her to a reality she didn’t want to be in.

“He’s at work,” she whispered. “Isn’t he, Professor?”

“No. He isn’t.”

Luna looked down at their hands as she felt the first of her tears spilling down her cheeks. “They had a message for Harry,” she told Professor Snape while she tried to crush down his words that were chipping away the foundation of her comforting lie. “They told me to tell him that he had to join Timmy, except they called him ‘our Lord’. They said...” Luna blinked away the tears clouding her eyes as her heart clenched and she knew she couldn’t play pretend about it. She couldn’t be her dad, forever lost in a fantasy that wouldn’t give him time to recognize his only daughter as a young woman instead of the little girl she’d been the day her mom died. “They said to tell him to join Timmy or- or they would kill us, Harry’s ‘followers’. They said they aren’t playing games and then they- they— they killed daddy.”

Professor Snape let out another quiet huff when Luna bent forward so she could rest her head on his shoulder while she cried. He patted her back very awkwardly and spoke softly.

“You did excellent,” he told her. “You made it here, where you are safe. You did precisely right Luna.”

She didn’t feel excellent or precisely right, but once she was done washing her make-believe lies away with her tears, she did feel a little less weighed down. Also, when she saw Professor Snape’s patient face and calm eyes, she felt safe as well.

Harry wasn’t good at making people feel safe. Harry would burn the world to ashes to make someone happy, but safety was something more calming, more quiet. And poor Harry didn’t know how to be calm or quiet.

Professor Snape did though.

And so did Draco with his quiet eyes and his emotions that ran so deep.

“Thank you,” Luna told Professor Snape with an earnest solemnity. “I think I’d like to see Draco, if that’s okay sir.”

“Certainly.” Professor Snape squeezed her hands once more before letting them drop in her lap. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gave to her. “I will be back in a few hours to check on you, it is early, but if you would like to sleep I will send a potion for you. Okay?”

“Yes sir,” Luna said compliantly. “Thank you.”

Professor Snape stood up and nodded sadly down at her. “I’ll send Draco in.”

Luna used Professor Snape’s handkerchief to wipe her face while he walked over to the door. The instant he opened it, Draco pushed past him to come flying in the room.

“Luna!” Draco pulled up short by the edge of the bed, his mother slipping silently inside the room and closing the door behind her. “Are you- Luna are you alright?”

”I don’t know,” Luna said honestly. “Am I broken?”

Draco’s nose scrunched up for a minute, but he looked her over carefully. “No,” he said firmly. “You are not broken Luna. You are perfect.”

”Oh, good.” Luna nodded to herself. “They wanted to break me and I didn’t want to be broken.”

Draco sat on the bed next to her and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Nobody could ever break you, Lue. You’re alright now.”

Luna looked in his handsome grey eyes, so strong and solemn, and she nodded before he threw his arms around her and held her together tightly.

Draco was wrong, she wasn’t ‘alright’, not right now, but she wasn’t broken and she was wide awake.

Awake was where she had her friends.

Awake was where she had her Draco.

Chapter Text

SS,
I would be more than happy to meet with you.
There’s a tea shop I enjoy, McCastor’s, on 8th and Beluga in Dundee. I can meet you there on the fifth at noon to hear all about this time sensitive issue.
Sincerely,
N. Flamel

***

July 5th

It was still dark when Severus woke.

He showered quickly and changed in to a fresh set of clothes, forgoing his outer robes in an effort to blend in with the muggle town he would be traveling to today, and began his customary morning rounds.

First, check the potions simmering in his lab.

Potter and Black’s lithium potion was nearly complete. Severus added the final ingredient and removed it from the heat. He measured out a vial for Black; a vial he could thankfully leave behind for him to pick up today. The rest was carefully stored away for Harry.

Severus carefully removed the nerve regeneration potion from stasis and checked both the color and viscosity. Once he was satisfied it was brewed properly, he bottled up a dozen vials and pocketed one to deliver to Miss Lovegood.

He checked the calendar on his wall and reassured himself that neither Theodore’s potion nor the Wolfsbane potion would need brewed for a week. At which time Severus hoped he could convince Lovegood to assist him. Theodore was an adequate assistant, but Lovegood was possibly the brightest potions student Severus had ever encountered.

If she applied herself, she could surpass Severus himself as the youngest potions master in history.

Severus doubted if Theodore would feel put out with his replacement. He had been spending a decent portion of his time with Granger in the library.

Speaking of which...

Severus grabbed a vial of the potion he brewed for Theodore and Granger. The idiot boy had yet to ask him for any type of birth control and the last thing Severus needed was an infant in the house.

God knew Harry would induct it in to his alliance before it grew its first tooth.

Severus then dropped potions off at different bedrooms. Though he had Mavis pop inside the bedrooms to place them on their bedside tables. There were entirely too many teenage girls in their house for Severus to go bursting in bedrooms.

His morning tasks now complete, Severus went to the kitchen and began a pot of coffee while he waited for his child to return home.

It took approximately two cups of coffee before the first rays of daylight were peeking through the dining room windows and Harry finally triggered the wards with his return home.

Judging from the scowl he wore when he stormed inside and took his customary spot across from Severus, it had not been a successful night.

“Can I have that paper when you’re done?” Harry asked immediately.

“Certainly.” Severus raised his wand and idly added cream and sugar to a mug and floated it to Harry before folding the Daily Prophet and handing that over as well. “Long night?”

Harry still had on the trousers and hooded jumper he wore yesterday and was obviously disgruntled in his lack of success.

“You could say that,” Harry muttered. He stuck his hand out and silently summoned a quill before circling the front page article about a muggle family found dead beneath the dark mark. “Fuckin Aberyswyth! They were in Preston night before last!”

Severus hummed in acknowledgment as Harry raved angrily about the nonsensical patterns of the death eaters attacks. For the last two nights, Harry had been out looking for the followers of the Dark Lord.

‘To give them an answer for Timmy’, of course. Apparently Harry would like to deny his offer to join him in person.

As only a madman such as Harry would do.

Severus had debated on whether it was a wise choice to inform Harry of what Lovegood shared with him, the cause behind her torture and her father’s murder, but Severus was keeping enough secrets at present.

And Lovegood would undoubtedly tell him herself.

So Severus had not been wholly surprised that night when Harry knocked on his bedroom door and informed him that he would be out for the night and to not expect him home until morning. Harry had disappeared the moment that Severus informed him that Lovegood was physically fine and returned home long enough to inform him that her father was dead before disappearing again. And when Harry appeared at his bedroom door that night, dressed in a black hooded jumper, black trousers, and a lump in the front of his jumper that was undeniably his muggle gun, Severus had nearly lost his composure as he pictured Harry out in dead of night, dressed as some sort of burglar, hunting for death eaters.

It had been terribly amusing.

‘The Boy Hero’ and all.

It took an incredible amount of persuasion on Severus’ part to convince Harry to take any one of his adult allies with him. Harry, Theodore, and George and Frederick Weasley made up the ‘hunting party’ (as Harry called it) the first night, so Severus requested that Harry find an adult who was more than a month out of Hogwarts to accompany him the next time.

“Who did you take with you last night?” Severus asked.

“Charlie and Susan,” Harry mumbled as he scoured the paper for any hint of where the Death Eaters may be next. “Me and Draco are going with Sirius tonight.”

“Draco and I,” Severus corrected him. “And I hardly consider your dogfather to be an acceptable adult companion.”

Harry glanced up at him, his eyes no longer hidden behind his glasses and all the brighter for it. “D’you wanna go tonight instead? I can tell him to piss off?”

“No,” Severus chuckled lightly, pleased as he always was to be ranked above the mutt. “I do not.”

Harry agreed to alert Severus if he found anything and Severus would apparate to his side then. He had no desire to go traipsing around Great Britain with Harry and his friends as they searched for the men who attacked Lovegood. From the sounds of it, it seemed as if the Dark Lord had realized that Harry would be searching for stray followers to pick off, and had them rather more contained than they had been before.

“I do need to talk to you though,” Severus said. He could not push this off any longer, it would be best to deal with the argument that surely awaited him now rather than when the others were awake to witness it. Severus waited until he had Harry’s complete attention before continuing. “I have an incredibly important meeting today and will not be home for your meeting.”

Harry’s jaw dropped for a moment before he schooled his expression to one of cool disdain. ”Our incredibly important meeting is to talk about breaking your friend out of prison and finding Timmy and his death eaters. Ya know, the ones threatening to kill my friends if I don’t join them? What could possibly be more important than this?”

Severus looked in Harry’s obviously irritated eyes and bit back the retort he had on the tip of his tongue.

“I am afraid it is my business and quite private,” Severus said with a practiced lightness to his tone. “I trust that you can manage your ‘gang’ without my assistance today.”

Severus underestimated Harry’s current level of frustration at his lack of progress in avenging Lovegood’s attack. Or, equally likely, he overestimated the amount of sleep that Harry was currently operating on.

“That’s bullshit,” Harry spat, slapping the paper on the table in anger. “Why don’t you just be honest with me. I thought we didn’t fuckin lie to each other?”

Severus pushed down his needless guilt at the truth in Harry’s words and managed to speak with an incredible amount of calm that he did not feel. “We do not,” he agreed. “However, I am allowed to maintain some privacy in my life and this is one of those times that I must request you respect that privacy and know that I will inform you about it in due course.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed until he was completely glowering across the table. “That’s bullshit and you know it,” he said accusingly. “How would you like it if I didn’t tell you about my plans, huh? If I said ‘oh sorry Sev it’s private.”

Severus grit his teeth and mentally reminded himself that Harry is the brat he created. He placed an emphasis on honesty between them, and created a code that Harry carried strongly when it suited him.

Also, Harry was not entirely in the wrong.

“I would say that was fine and would respect your privacy,” Severus said tightly. “As I expect you to do mine.”

Harry held his eyes for a long moment before his lips twisted in to a mocking smirk. “Bet,” he said. “Have fun at your secret meeting. Just don’t get pissed when I do this back to you, yeah?”

There were brief flashes of time where Severus wondered if it would not simply be easier to just kill Harry and be done with it.

They were rare, but this was another of those times.

Nicholas Flamel better have answers that negate whatever mischief Harry will undoubtedly enact as repayment for Severus’ secrets.

Severus suffered through the silent looks of anger Harry shot him throughout the morning as he lingered in the dining room in an attempt to speak with Nymphadora before he left.

Which also subjugated him to conversation with various ‘housemates’ through the morning.

“Good morning sir,” Granger said politely as she and Theodore entered the dining room shortly after Harry finally left in an indignant huff. “How are you?”

“I am well, and yourself?”

Theodore abruptly looked up and met Severus’ eyes for a moment before turning a bright red color in his face and snatching a stack of toast from the endless buffet the house-elves kept replenishing. Granger shook her head as the boy turned on his heel and stormed from the room.

“Sorry for his rudeness,” Granger said with a small giggle as she poured two glasses of tea and balanced them on a little tray. “I think you embarrassed him with the potion you left.”

Amusing.

“Indeed,” Severus agreed lightly. “Perhaps you could inform Theodore that if he is a man enough to require the potion that he is certainly a man enough to get breakfast without blushing.”

Severus smirked to himself as Granger left rather quickly, sporting her own blush and sputtered apologies.

This could be the key to getting rid of the ‘roommates’, he thought to himself idly as Narcissa entered the dining room and nodded at him. Discuss safe sex and get the teenagers to simply flee from his presence.

The idea was not without merit.

“Good morning Severus,” Narcissa said in her soft tone as she sat at his left-hand side. “Have you decided to mingle with the peasants today?”

Severus poured her a cup of tea, which she accepted with a grateful nod. “I have not,” he told her, ignoring her jab. “I have an appointment shortly that I must leave for.”

“Ooh, I’m certain Harry will be furious,” Narcissa said with an inappropriate amount of cheer in her voice. “Have you already told him?”

“I have,” Severus said. “And he is quite unhappy.”

“Of course he is.” Narcissa let out a tinkling laugh as one of the house-elves, one who was not Mavis, brought out another pot of tea. “Thank you Blippy, how are you holding up?”

“Blippy is doing good ma’am,” ‘Blippy’ said with a short bow and a toothy grin. “Blippy and the others are being much happier here with their Masters than they were being without them.”

“Of course you are,” Narcissa crooned with a sweet smile. “I’m very happy to have you free from that disgusting place. Positively appalling how they treated you.”

Severus withheld a disbelieving scoff, certain it would be unappreciated. He had once seen Narcissa fly in to a fit of rage when one of the elves in their manor allowed Draco, who was a toddler at the time, to destroy one of her designer gowns.

Apparently she was evolving with the times. Or, more likely to be accurate, she was evolving as the current protector of her son required her to evolve.

Severus believed Narcissa would kiss Albus himself as a passionate lover if it meant protecting Draco. Revamping her view on house-elves was nothing in comparison.

“Will you be needing anything else sir?” Blippy asked Severus, interrupting his privately amusing musings.

“No, thank you,” Severus said.

“Severus is waiting for someone,” Narcissa said with a keen accuracy. “And if he has already spoken with Harry, I would guess that it is my niece he is waiting for.”

Severus refused to rise to Narcissa’s bait as Blippy tittered and bowed out of the room.

“I am waiting for Nymphadora,” he said stiffly. “I need to speak with her before I leave.”

Narcissa let out a quiet laugh as she looked at him through her hooded eyes. “She spoke with Andromeda about you, you know,” she said slyly. “I admit that I had not imagined the two of you to grow so close, but it does make sense. Both intelligent, successful in your respective fields. Nymphadora is quite attractive too, even if I would never wear that shade of pink.”

“Good morning.”

Severus had never been so happy to see Susan Bones in his life.

“Miss Bones, good morning,” Severus said hastily, ignoring Narcissa’s pointed look at his obvious dodge of her line of conversation. “How did—”

Severus cut himself off as he immediately averted his eyes to the ceiling and Narcissa let out a surprised huff of a laugh.

“Susan, darling, I believe you’re a touch underdressed,” Narcissa said reproachfully.

Which was an understatement.

Severus had not considered the fact that teenage girls in his home during summers could consist of dramatically underdressed teenage girls, as the copious amounts of bare skin from Bones was now proving.

Severus had never before appreciated Granger’s modesty.

“I’ll just be...” Severus trailed off as he got to his feet and moved with haste to a different room. He heard the beginnings of a very polite disagreement breaking out between Narcissa and Bones behind him.

He desperately hoped Narcissa won the disagreement, but he had a queer feeling that the headstrong woman had met her match in Bones.

Severus entered the sitting room and nearly turned back to the dining room.

When had his residence become some form of a hostel for so many people?

‘I would be more than happy to take over Potter’s guardianship.’

Aah. Yes. That was the moment.

God damned Harry Potter.

“Morning Snape,” Black said from his seat in the middle of the sitting room floor, surrounded by red-heads. He glanced up at the clock before grinning, “Or, almost afternoon, I guess.”

Underdressed teenage girls or Black and a band of Weasley’s?

Severus liked his odds against Black, Ronald, Charles, and George.

He eyed Frederick and silently swore that he, at least, better be on Severus’ side in any conflicts.

It would be a shame if Harry were not available for his proposal at the end of this month.

“Afternoon,” Severus said stiffly. “You’re all quite early for the meeting.”

“I’m just waiting for it to be over with so I can get some sleep,” Charles said around a yawn.

“And I live here,” Frederick added with a cheeky wink.

A wink that held no weight as Severus knew Harry had been playing vigilante with Charles and Bones all night.

Though Severus did suddenly consider taking Harry somewhere for his birthday. Perhaps Asia? They had an intriguing view on dark arts that Harry would undoubtedly appreciate.

“I needed to talk with Harry,” Black said. He glanced around the room with pointlessly hopeful eyes. Did he believe Severus was hiding the child within the sofa cushions? “Have you seen him?”

“He left the dining room in a huff about an hour ago,” Severus said. “I believe he was going to shower, or perhaps assassinate the Minister, it is hard to tell.”

Ronald snorted and mussed up his already messy hair as Severus gingerly navigated around them—

Why were they seated on the floor? Did none of Harry’s endless guests understand decorum?

—to take a seat on the chair nearest the front door.

“Well I guess I’ll just talk to him after,” Black sighed dramatically. “I just need him to let Trent stay here for a few days in August. Moony and I are having a joint bachelor party before the wedding then taking a little weekend trip afterwards. Oh!” Black looked up at Severus and gave him what he likely thought was a charming smile.

It was not.

“What are you doing for Harry’s birthday? Because I was thinking of taking him to the States for a few days, be good to get him some fresh air, away from all this chaos, eh?”

Severus heard Fredericks’s tiny inhale and smirked slowly.

Frederick’s jest as to where he slept at night was likely much less amusing now.

“Just Harry?” Severus asked blandly. “I see no problem with that.”

Truthfully, if Severus’ meeting with Flamel went poorly today, then it would be good for the child to experience a bit of traveling. His previously sardonic thought had quite a bit of merit. As much as Harry plays the part of the war general and vigilante, he was still a teenaged boy who deserved to experience all that life had to offer him.

God knew how much longer he would be able to experience such things.

“What days were you thinking of going Sirius?” Frederick asked quickly, undoubtedly rearranging his own schedule. “I- uh- had a thing- a party- planned for Harry’s birthday.”

“A thing?” George laughed. “Do you Freddie? Have a thing? Hmm?”

“Well... uh...” Black’s eyes flickered between the twins uncertainly. “I was thinking the last week or so of July? If Snape didn’t mind?”

Severus inspected his nails and lifted one shoulder carelessly. “If Harry agrees to it, I have no problem with you taking him. It would do him some good to travel, would it not Frederick?”

“Course,” Frederick agreed through a clenched jaw. “Harry’s never been out of the country before.”

“Great,” Black said. “Thats all set, just need to see if Harry will go or not.”

Frederick shot Severus a heated glare that Severus smiled wryly at.

You aren’t quite so funny now, are you?

He would step in if he were not wholly certain that Frederick had enough cunning in him to find a way to still present Harry with his opulent ring.

Severus kept an eye on the clock while the others delved in to meaningless conversations about traveling as it got closer and closer to time for him to leave. Severus nearly, very nearly, decided to ask Black to do him this favor instead when the front door finally opened and it sounded as if someone tripped over the entrance step.

How Nymphadora could be so diligently careful and poised during a full-on battle and yet trip over the same step she has known existed for months was beyond Severus’ understanding.

However, it was rather charming.

A fact he would admit to no one.

“Hello!” Nymphadora cried cheerfully as she stepped in to the sitting room. “What’s going on in here then?”

“Is that my niece?!”

Severus got to his feet quickly and grasped Nymphadora’s wrist as he pulled her through the closest doorway. It was already eleven o’clock now and he would not be kept from this appointment by Narcissa’s incessant need to poke at his... friendship.

“Nymphadora, would you do me a favor?” Severus asked as soon as he pulled the door shut and warded it silently.

Nymphadora’s eyes were glimmering with mischief as she batted her eyelashes up at him. “You pulled me in to a cupboard to ask me for a favor? Awfully forward of you, Sev.”

Severus glanced around quickly and closed his eyes in momentary mortification. “Apologies,” he said as he fought down the heat that was burning the back of his neck. “I was attempting to escape Narcissa and was not thinking.”

“I don’t mind,” Nymphadora grinned, her previously coy playfulness gone. “What’s going on?”

“I have an appointment today that cannot be rescheduled,” Severus said. “I need you to facilitate Harry’s meeting. Attempt to dissuade him away from blatant vengeance against Lovegood’s attackers and keep the foolish brat from either breaking in to Azkaban or being placed there himself, can you do that?”

Nymphadora nodded slowly, “No.”

“I cannot ask anyone else,” Severus hissed without any true heat to his words. “You are the only adult without an agenda who I can trust to keep Harry from being arrested for five hours, at a maximum.”

“I... I’ll be honest, okay? I’m flattered that you trust me, but... but do you really think I can keep Harry from ordering everyone to go blow up Azkaban or something mad?” Nymphadora whispered heatedly as her eyes flashed a dark crimson.

... did Nymphadora’s eyes change color when she was irritated? That was... was quite unexpectedly endearing, in a way.

Another mad fact that Severus would be keeping to himself.

“Then what?” she asked. “You’re going to be furious when you get back because it’s impossible. You’re asking too much here. You know it’s impossible.”

It was impossible.

Harry had never listened to an adult in his life, it would likely be a moot attempt on her part. Though, it was a necessary one.

“I will not be furious if you are unable to do it,” Severus assured her. “Please, Nymphadora, all I am asking is that you do not let this meeting delve in to an actual mob that ends with Harry’s arrest. I have no one else I can ask and I cannot miss this appointment.”

Nymphadora squinted suspiciously at him for a long moment before finally sighing and jabbing him in the chest with her fingernail. “You might not be worth this much trouble,” she said with a lopsided grin that belied her words. “I’m not playing stepmum to Harry bloody Potter.”

Severus was caught so off guard by her that he wasn’t sure if the laugh bubbling inside him was hysteria or not. He let out a single and short exhale of air, “I am worth no trouble at all,” he said truthfully. “Five hours, Nymphadora, that is all I am asking of you.”

“Five hours,” she agreed curtly.

Five hours.

***

Severus arrived at the restaurant Flamel sent him to, precisely at two minutes until noon, and then hesitated outside the door. He had no idea what Flamel looked like and would prefer not to go shouting either of their names in an attempt to find him.

It wound up being a needless concern.

As soon as Severus entered the tea shop, his eyes flew immediately to the only occupant aside from a woman in an apron behind a counter humming along to a radio as she rearranged muffins in a cabinet.

The sole patron had to be Flamel.

The man was sitting at a small wooden table beside the window, directly across from the door. Severus eyed him for a moment and took in his powder blue muggle suit and his short white beard and matching shock of white hair on his head before he approached him.

He also took note of Flamel’s blatant disregard for the Statute of Secrecy as he stirred his tea with his finger above the mug. A quick glance to the unconcerned worker of the shop told him this was not a new development.

“Hello,” Severus offered his hand politely as he approached him. “Severus Snape, we corresponded.”

“Ah, the famous one!” Flamel got to his feet and shook Severus’ hand enthusiastically despite his bewilderment. This close, Severus could see that Flamel’s eyes were a startling pale blue, nearly white in their coloring. “Yes, yes, have a seat. I wasn’t expecting you!”

Severus checked his wristwatch subtly and reassured himself that he was exactly on time. “Apologies,” he said as he took his seat. “I may have misunderstood the time difference between us.”

“No, not that,” Flamel chuckled and waved his hand airily. “I meant I wasn’t expecting the mysterious ‘SS’ to be Severus Snape. I’ve read your works, you know, good ideas. Yes, you’ve got quite a mind for potions, don’t you?”

“I suppose so,” Severus allowed with a touch of humility. It was vindicating, in a way, to be recognized for something aside from his link to Harry. Potions were something Severus studied hard, had a passion for; it was good to know the recognition of that had not gone to the wayside in favor of Harry’s hijinks.

“Bah, no need for modesty!” cried Flamel. “Revolutionized the Wolfsbane, didn’t you? How did you come up with the idea to mix the aconite with the myrrh before adding it to the brew?”

Severus relaxed in his chair at the familiar topic. He allowed the discussion of potions to carry them through two glasses of tea before an opportunity arose for him to bring up his true purpose for the appointment.

“Brains like yours live forever,” Flamel said with a happy sigh. “Perenelle, my wife, had such a thirst for potions and the ways they could be improved upon. She would have given anything to talk with you, rest her soul.”

Aah. Terrific. How likely was Flamel to help the child who stole the stone that would have kept his wife alive?

“Apologies, Mister Flamel, I had not heard that she had passed,” Severus said.

“That was the intended side-effect of us agreeing to no longer take my elixir,” Flamel said with a soft smile. His eyes were soft, wistful, but not teary. “I’m hoping to join her in another fifty years or so. I’ve taken more of the elixir in the past, so it takes longer to wear off, you understand.”

Severus lifted his chin, as if he understood. “Of course,” he said. “That does bring me to the topic I had hoped to discuss with you...”

“Hmm? The stone?” Flamel chuckled. “You and every other witch or wizard hoping for immortality or endless riches, Mister Snape.”

“It is not for me that I am asking,” Severus said slowly. “I truly have no desire in extending my life past it’s natural course, and have no need for ‘endless riches’.”

“Oh?” Flamel folded his hands on the table and gave Severus a bemused smile. “Well, let’s hear it then.”

“Would you take a vow, to not share what I share with you with anyone else? I apologize for asking, but this is an incredibly important and delicate issue.”

Flamel gave Severus a crooked smile as he scratched at the white scruff on his chin. “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said with a true note of apology in his voice. “I’ve learned the hard way in my life, secrets lead to more problems. Anyone who tells you otherwise just has something to hide. I can tell you I won’t tell anyone what you’re asking though, and I’m a wizard of my word Mister Snape. Would that work?”

Well, it wasn’t as if Severus had a great many options.

“I suppose it will,” said Severus slowly. “Would you permit me to place a privacy shield up then?”

“No need! I placed one as soon as you sat down!”

Severus blinked slowly at this energetic enigma of a man.

He never even saw the man do as much as twitch a pinky.

Although, that explained why no one had been by to take their order.

“Of course,” Severus said with more certainty than he felt. “My question is about your Stone—”

“You don’t look like you want to live forever,” Flamel cut in. He leaned across the table, squinting at Severus with his unsettling pale eyes, as if he could weigh a persons desire to live based on their eyes. “Nope,” he sat back in his seat and smiled. “You aren’t looking for immortality or untold riches, are you Mister Snape?”

“I am not,” Severus agreed curtly. “My question, of which I assure you is asked with no ill-intentions, is if the drinker of the Elixir is able to be killed?”

Flamel’s lips twitched harshly before he burst in to a loud laugh. “Well no one’s ever asked me that! Good Lord, Mister Snape, are you intending to kill me for my stone? I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m afraid I don’t have it anymore.”

You’re doing excellent Severus. Truly. You can tell how much you want to save Harry’s life. The only man who can help you now believes you want to kill him. Excellent work.

Severus grimaced at his own internal, rightfully deserved, flagellation. “I did not mean to alarm you, Mister Flamel, I assure you I meant that as a true academic question, not as a threat.”

Flamel was still beaming across the table at him. He raised one of his bushy brows in a show of good-natured skepticism. “Do I look alarmed?”

He did not.

It would be rather insulting if he had not already admitted to casting a silent and wandless privacy shield that Severus had been unable to detect.

“And I don’t think this is for academics is it?” Flamel asked with an uncanny accuracy. “Mister Snape, forgive my blunt manner, but I’m nearly 700 years old. Why don’t you just tell me what you came to tell me and let’s see if I can help you, hmm?”

Severus had never taken so many risks in his life before. He had always lived within the shadows, hiding his intentions and his desires in carefully chosen words. It extended his life well past where it should have ended it, and it was all for naught now.

Severus breathed deeply then bent forward a touch closer to Flamel. “What do you know of horcruxes?”

Flamel was patient as Severus shared his story. He began with the night the horcrux was implanted in Harry’s mind and ended with all that Barty had discovered and worked on in his experiments.

He had indicated that Harry was in possession of Flamel’s stone without outright implicating the child in its theft. It would do no good if Flamel refused to assist the child once he discovered Harry had stolen his most coveted belonging.

Flamel had merely chuckled though, “I told Albus to destroy it. I knew I wouldn’t have the heart to do it and Perenelle wouldn’t either. Your boy can keep it if he likes.”

As if Harry would give it up at this point.

Flamel asked a few questions, asked for a few clarifications, and was overall quite focused and thoughtful while Severus took this risk.

“This is quite the problem,” Flamel said after Severus was finally finished. He rubbed his upper lip as he stared off in the void, thinking of all Severus shared with him. “Horcruxes are nasty business, I’m surprised this Voldawart took such a risk.”

And Severus was surprised that Flamel lived as such a recluse that he did not even know the Dark Lord’s name.

Apparently, as Flamel so baldly stated, ‘the Dark Lord of this decade’ was not a concern to the man.

To each their own, he supposed.

“You have never encountered a horcrux before then?” Severus asked, a bit desperately.

“Never,” Flamel admitted, his eyes refocusing on Severus now. “I’ve heard of them, of course, who hasn’t? But to split your soul seven times? Store a piece in a baby? It’s disgusting. Poor Barry.”

“Harry,” Severus corrected him lightly. “Harry Potter.”

“That does ring a bell, now that you mention it,” Flamel muttered. “Potter... Potter... Is he from the Peverell line? I think I remember being related to some Potter’s from Ignotus’ line.”

“I... perhaps?” Severus said, bewildered. “You may have read his name in the news, he’s rather well-known.”

“Ah, I don’t read the newspaper,” Flamel flicked his hand irritably. “Bunch of lies, isn’t it Mister Snape?”

Fair enough.

“And you want to kill the horcrux inside young Harry without killing him, quite noble of you... Let me think here...” Flamel looked out the window as he rubbed his face lightly. “If Harry drank the elixir, could he withstand the murder required to remove the horcrux? Hmm...”

Severus extended an incredible amount of patience as Flamel stared out the window, muttering to himself. At some point, after Severus saw that his story had taken up three of his five allotted hours, Flamel grabbed a small spiral-bound muggle notebook and pencil from his pocket and began scribbling quickly as his muttering continued.

Which was an incredibly hopeful sign, in Severus’ opinion. Though, as he was a rather desperate man, perhaps that was a fools opinion.

It was nearly three-quarters of an hour later when Flamel finally held his notebook up with a victorious glint in his eyes. “I’ve got an idea!”

An idea.

Delightful.

Severus waited silently for Flamel to elucidate, then coughed lightly when it seemed he needed prompted, “Yes?”

“So! In order to decide if someone can survive being murdered while taking the elixir, then we need you to try and kill me.”

Severus forgot himself as he gaped across the table at Flamel. “You cannot be serious.”

“Very much so,” Flamel said with unshakeable cheer. “You need answers to save your boy, and I’m the only one that can provide them.”

“If I- if I kill you...”

“Then I will join my wife on our next great adventure,” Flamel said with a wistful expression. He reached across the table and patted Severus’ hand gently, “I think I’ve lived quite long enough, don’t you?”

Severus had no response, which caused Flamel to chuckle quietly.

“Do you want to try and save your boy or not?” he asked Severus seriously. “This is the only surefire way you’ll know if it could work. Hmm? Why don’t you come over to my house and you can even use my wand to do it. Wouldn’t do Harry any good if you got arrested for murder, would it?”

Severus debated the dilemma silently for a moment. In the end though, it was a simple question:

What wouldn’t he do to save Harry’s life?

***

“You look like you could use a drink,” Nymphadora snorted as soon as Severus stepped foot in the sitting room of Invisibility Way much later that night. “Let’s share terrible days. You can start by telling me why you’re four hours past our five hour agreement.”

Severus let out a heavy breath of air as he fell on to the sofa. “I am quite certain I have had the more taxing day,” he informed her. “I was held up by my appointment. I assume nobody was arrested in my absence?”

“Not for a lack of trying,” she scoffed as she summoned glasses and grabbed a bottle of vintage wine.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully as Nymphadora slid him a drink. “How was the meeting?”

“Terrible,” Nymphadora said with a pained grimace. “Harry wanted to go blow up Azkaban and kill all the death eaters inside.”

Of course he did.

“Sirius told him if he blew up the prison, that the dementors would run free. So Harry changed his tune and told Cissa he wasn’t breaking Lucius out unless Voldemort didn’t do it by Easter,” Nymphadora went on as she poured herself a glass and sat directly beside him. Close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body.

Which was quite a contrast to the cold body he just left behind in a cozy cottage in Scotland.

“So then Harry said it needs to be ‘a top priority’ to find Voldemort’s hiding spot, so he can—”

“Go kill the free death eaters,” Severus interrupted her with a small sigh. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Nymphadora agreed with a teasing lilt to her tone. “He told the others that the death eaters will be targeting them and their families and said it was ‘one last warning to save themselves now’.”

“I presume no one accepted his gracious offer?” Severus asked drily.

“Not a soul,” Nymphadora said cheerily. “Also you have a few new housemates, Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones are staying for the foreseeable future.”

Severus knew that Harry certainly did not want his friend to be tortured, Harry cared quite a bit for Miss Lovegood, yet he was wholly unsurprised that the brat twisted the attack as an excuse to move his friends in to their home.

“Delightful.”

“Oh, and Bill and Fleur are going to ward the hell out of Fred and George’s shop. Harry offered to pay them to do it and I thought he was going to get in a fight with Bill and George both over it.”

Severus closed his eyes and tilted his head back on the sofa. “And where is Harry now?”

“‘Death eater hunting’,” Nymphadora used her fingers to emphasize the quotations. “It was pretty much a good hour or so of Harry trying to divine from wild conspiracies where Voldemort and his followers were while Susan egged him on and Sirius and I tried to calm him down. You didn’t miss much.”

Severus rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. “I also did not accomplish much,” he admitted. “I could have remained here for all the good that has occurred from my meeting.”

It was an unexpected jolt of surprise when Nymphadora reached over and laced her smaller and softer hand with his. He glanced down and found that it was not an unpleasant surprise, simply a surprise.

When had a person, aside from Harry, ever initiated physical contact with him? When had a person ever so easily grasped his hand in an effort to offer a small touch of comfort?

Severus tried to rack his brains, though he was coming up embarrassingly short.

“You can tell me what happened, if you want,” Nymphadora offered quietly. “I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”

Severus stared at their entwined hands as he considered it.

If he died tomorrow, who would work to complete the task? Who could he trust? One of the schoolchildren Harry surrounds himself with? Amelia, who is still in Albus’ order? Black, who will be required to take over caring for Harry? Lupin, who has quite enough on his plate with treating the mental traumas of these wixen forced in to a war? Narcissa, with her own agenda and loyalty to her family?

Severus would not be Albus or the Dark Lord with their desires to keep all their secrets close to their chest. Not when the stakes were so incredibly high.

If the Dark Lord got his wish and ended Severus’ life, he needed to know that someone else was aware of the stakes in this game of cat and mouse between Harry and the Dark Lord. This game between Albus and Harry.

Nymphadora was intelligent, powerful, and, most rare it seemed, not dealing with copious amounts of mental illness that would distract her from the task at hand. If he had to trust someone, Nymphadora seemed an adequate person to choose.

Severus summoned the bottle of wine with his free hand and refilled both of their drinks.

God knew they would need it.

“I killed Nicholas Flamel. And-”

Severus felt as if a dam were breaking inside him as Lovegood’s prophecy she spoke the night she arrived battered his mental barriers:

’All roads lead to the same end. All roads have the same destination. All roads lead to his death.’

“And Harry is going to die.”

Chapter Text

July 22

“I’m not going,” Harry scowled as he threw his duffle bag back in his wardrobe and slammed the door shut. “I’ve got too much to do here.”

“You mean you don’t know what to pack,” Theo said placatingly. “Here, I can help.”

“I don’t want to go,” Harry said for the fiftieth time. “Snape is going to be a git if he has to eat breakfast by himself and the others—”

“Will be fine without you for a few days,” Theo said calmly as he dug Harry’s bag back out of the wardrobe. “C’mon Harry, it’s a vacation. You need one. And you already told Trent and Black that you’d go.”

“But Neville and Luna—”

“Have their own plans,” Theo said firmly. “Their lives don’t just revolve around you, Harry. You’ve been working yourself to death. It’s time for some sunshine and fun-shine or whatever mad thing Black said.”

Harry raised his brow at Theo’s oddly shaped bag on his bed. He didn’t like to bet, but if he did, he’d put quite a bit of gold on it being filled with books.

“I will be reading between ‘fun-shine’ events,” Theo said solemnly with only the tiniest twitch of his lips to betray him. “If you won’t go for yourself, go for me. You’re driving me mad Harry and I need a break.”

“Weird thing to say to the bloke who shares a bedroom with you,” Harry said with a defeated sigh. “What about—”

“The death eaters will still fucking be here hiding from you when you get back you absolute mad man. We are going, Harry Potter, that is that.”

Harry raised his brows at Theo’s sudden outburst.

Theo clearly was the one who needed a vacation

“I was going to ask about Stevie, you prick.”

Theo threw down the pair of Harry’s trousers he was folding and fearlessly got right in Harry’s face. “Susan and Draco are caring for Stevie. Ron and Neville are covering for Fred at the shop. Luna is helping Snape brew and working on potions. Narcissa, Charlie, and Tonks are going to be here watching over everyone, along with Severus fucking Snape, so they aren’t even at risk for a split-second. You are going on this trip. Fred is going on this trip. I am going to pack this bag then I am going to spend ten days on the beach with my girlfriend, got it?”

Harry pushed Theo’s shoulder, getting him out of his face, and scowled. “If anyone gets hurt while we’re gone, I’m blaming you.”

“And if I don’t get to see Hermione in a bikini because you’re being a prat, I’m blaming you,” Theo said snidely. He stalked back over to the wardrobe and pulled out three of Harry’s short sleeve shirts. “Now, which do you prefer?”

Harry raised a silent brow, channeling Snape’s look of ’I will give you one second to come up with the correct answer’, until Theo sighed and put all three of them in Harry’s bag.

“You can’t wear long sleeve shirts on the beach,” he said firmly. “It’s the States, Harry. Everyone is crazy there. Nobody’s going to notice a few little scars.”

“Brill,” Harry said lightly. “So you’ll be going shirtless to the beach then?”

And no, Theo would not be going shirtless to the beach. Instead they worked on glamour charms until they were both satisfied enough with their looks to pack short sleeve shirts.

Harry threw a couple long sleeve shirts and his most recent Weasley jumper in his bag too though, just in case.

Harry thought maybe Luna or Susan would talk him out of going, convince him to stay home with them, but they were suspiciously eager for him to leave.

“We have plans,” Susan said primly as they helped Luna and Neville plant some flowers in the backyard. “Plans that you would just get in the way of.”

“Gee, thanks Sue,” Harry drawled, hiding his actual annoyance behind pretend annoyance. “I’ll miss you too.”

“I really will miss you,” Luna said earnestly as she looked up at him. “But Susan’s right, we do have plans that you aren’t invited to and you should go have fun.”

Harry gave Neville a hopeful sort of look, but Neville just shook his head.

“Harry, mate, if anyone needs a bloody vacation, it’s you... And Snape. Take Snape too why don’t ya?”

“Snape’s vacation is Harry leaving,” Susan said with a sly smile that Harry frowned at.

Harry tossed and turned that night, taking the night off from searching for Timmy’s followers in favor of sleeping before they had to catch an early portkey. Except he wasn’t sleeping. It felt like his brain was filled with static. And, since Timmy hadn’t bothered him mentally a single time since the battle, Harry had to assume this static was of his own creation.

After accidentally kicking Fred and causing him to stir with mumbles and complaints, Harry gave sleep up as a bad job and silently slipped from his bed. He hesitated in the hall, unsure of what would ease the weight of dread in his stomach, before resolutely turning towards the door with the neat little plaque in the middle of it labeled:

Severus Snape

The plaques had been Neville’s idea. After he showed up at the meeting on the fifth with a suitcase and an arm full of plants, he kept forgetting which of the bedrooms was the one he was supposed to use until everyone agreed to labels for their doors.

Harry lifted his hand to knock on the door. Then he grimaced at his own dramatics and turned away to go back to his room.

Then he took five steps from the door and turned right back around and threw it open before he could change his mind.

Snape sat up as soon as the door banged against the wall, his hair tangled and his wand held out defensively, pointed right at Harry.

“Harry.” Snape groaned and dropped his head back on his pillow while Harry awkwardly shuffled in the doorway. “Is it already time for breakfast or to once more convince you that the world will not implode if you go on a trip with your godfather?”

“I can’t go.” Harry stepped further in the room and shut the door behind him. He pulled on his magic and sent a small ball of light to Snape’s bedside table so he wasn’t standing in the dark. “I don’t even know where we’re gonna be sleeping, do I? It’s probably going to all be different. Or someone here might need me. And I don’t know if the foods going to be different, or if death eaters are going to kill you all while I’m gone, or—”

“So the latter,” Snape interrupted him. He sat up and scooted to the left-side of the bed, leaving the entire right side open for Harry to flop on.

Which Harry did.

“No one is going to die while you are gone,” Snape said patiently. “You are staying in a hotel on the beach, where it will doubtlessly be outrageously sunny and hot. I am certain that you can eat eggs and coffee in the States just as you do here. In fact, your beloved pizza is a relatively popular dish in the States. Their tea is served cold though, which is disgusting.”

“And you definitely can’t go?” Harry asked again, ignoring Snape’s half-hearted jokes about cold tea.

“I can hardly imagine a more horrifying scenario,” Snape said. “I would kill Black by the end of the first day and the States still utilize the death penalty.”

Harry tried to laugh a little, since Snape was obviously trying to get him to, but it came out strained and mirthless. “I’m going to hate it,” he whispered, his face tilted up to the white ceiling to avoid having to look at Snape as he admitted it. “It’s going to be terrible, I just know it.”

“Harry.” Snape waited until Harry peeked over at him before continuing. “I believe it would be a good experience for you to travel and take a vacation with your friends. However, if you get there and it truly is terrible, you can come home. Send me a message and I will create an excuse for you and authorize an early return portkey, is that acceptable?”

“Swear?”

“I swear.”

Harry nodded and scooted down on the bed until his head was on the pillow. “Acceptable,” he drawled. He pointed at the ball of light and lowered his finger slowly, dimming the orb to a less bright level of light. “Do Americans really drink cold tea?”

Snape snorted and readjusted himself until he was able to once more bury his face in his pillow. “They do, coffee as well.”

“Ugh.”

“Quite so.”

A few hours later, after a tense breakfast with Snape, where he was once more talked in to this ‘vacation’, and a few teary goodbyes with his friends (Draco was so dramatic), Harry was standing nervously in Sirius and Lupin’s kitchen with Fred, Theo, Hermione, and Trent while the seven of them had their hand on a chipped kitchen plate.

Harry had his duffel bag over his shoulder, his left hand clenched with Fred’s tightly, and a stomach full of nerves.

“Four seconds” Sirius told them, practically vibrating with excitement as he watched the clock. “Ready guys?”

Harry opened his mouth to say no, but the sudden jerk behind his navel as he was transported away took his last chance to do so.

***

Harry hated vacations.

Mostly.

He definitely hated the dry heat that made his shirt cling to his torso and his hair stick to his head.

The rest hadn’t been too terrible...

Yet.

After they arrived at the ‘United States Portkey Authorization Port of Florida’ and had their wands identified (which had taken a bit of time since Harry forgot his wand at home), they loaded up in an automobile that Sirius swore he knew how to drive.

Which Harry was pretty sure he didn’t.

Harry had ridden in cars before, as had Hermione and Trent, and they were not supposed to go as fast as Sirius drove the magically stretched one, nor were they supposed to tilt on to two wheels when he took turns too fast.

“Brill,” Harry laughed when they finally arrived at the hotel and Theo and Lupin looked green and clammy. “Sirius, can you teach me how to drive?”

“Yes!” Sirius cheered as he ruffled Harry’s already sweaty hair. “Your mum taught me to drive, you know, so it seems fair that I teach you. Circle of life and all.”

“Lily did not teach you to ignore the speed limit.” Lupin rolled his eyes as he grabbed bags out of the trunk and tossed them to their owners. “Harry, you would have liked to see James trying to drive. Poor bastard couldn’t figure out the steering wheel.”

Sirius barked out a laugh as he intercepted Trent’s bag and slung it on his own shoulder. “Poor pureblood Jamie, so confused by muggle machines.”

“Aren’t you a pureblood?” Hermione asked Sirius.

“I don’t think so,” Sirius said very seriously. “It’s all in your mind you know, power of your own thoughts and all.”

Harry took the opportunity of everyone sorting out their bags to look over the ‘hotel’ they were staying at. It was nice, on the outside, he could easily admit that. It was a tall building, probably ten or so stories high, and the side facing the parking lot they were in was made of white brick. When Harry stretched his neck around a bit, trying to see through the line of palm trees that divided the property from the beach, he could see peeks of the deep blue ocean behind it.

“I’ve never been on a family vacation before,” Trent said quietly as he stood next to Harry and took in the same sights he was. “I almost didn’t come. I was going to stay home with the others, but Remus said it would be really fun.”

Harry glanced down at Trent and realized that he did actually look a little nervous as he chewed his bottom lip and glanced around warily. Harry slowly reached over and messed up Trent’s hair and gave him a forced smile. “Well if Remus said it’ll be fun, I’m sure it will. And if not, then we’ll leave, fuck it.”

Trent looked up at Harry, a smile slowly spreading across his face, and nodded slowly. “Fuck it,” he agreed.

The first real problem with ‘vacation’ came when they got checked in and Sirius handed out room keys.

“Rem and I will be in 1001, Trent and Fred in 1002, Harry and Theo in 1003, and Hermione in 1004.”

Harry and Theo both stared balefully at Sirius as he handed them their keys with his bright eyes and eager expression until the smile slowly slipped away.

“Absolutely not,” Sirius said firmly. “You guys aren’t going to be shacking up on vacation. I was put in charge, it’ll get me in trouble somehow, I’m sure.”

Harry blinked very slowly at Sirius as he held his hand out to his friends, all of whom promptly handed over their room keys.

“Trent, 1002. Theo, you and Mione in 1003. Fred and I will take 1004,” Harry said as he reshuffled the cards and handed them back out. “Sirius, be real here,” he added when Sirius turned to Lupin for support. “Why would we go on vacation just to not sleep in the same setup we’ve always had?”

“Let it go, love,” Lupin murmured to Sirius. “Severus allows them to do it.”

“Snape does not have enough rules,” Sirius said with a dramatic arm gesture of exasperation. “‘Same setup you’ve always had’, pft.”

“Sapphire has to sleep in Sky’s room when she comes over,” Trent said helpfully.

Helpfully for Sirius, that is.

“Not that we’re dating,” Trent added hastily with a red stain to his cheeks. “Just- just that we can’t share a room when she comes.”

“That’s because Sirius doesn’t know how to live,” Fred said teasingly. “He moved in with his boyfriend when he was eleven.”

“Did you really?” Trent said accusingly as he glared up at Sirius. “You didn’t tell me that!”

Fred and Hermione laughed as they led their group to the lifts to take them up to their rooms to unpack before ‘hitting the beach’.

And the lifts were officially ‘reasons Harry hated vacation’ reason number two.

“We did not move in together at eleven,” Lupin said with a grin after they crammed in the lift. “Fred’s joking, Trent.”

Harry blocked out their conversation as the lifts slowly rose and he concentrated on not feeling suffocated. It was just- were all lifts so small? Why didn’t they just split up and take two of them? Could he bust the doors open if he stopped breathing?

He had too many plans to die in a bloody lift.

The lift slowed, even though the little lights inside it said they were only on the eighth floor and Harry felt a flare of panic rise up inside him.

“Why are we stopping?” he asked no one in particular. “More people aren’t going to fit. Why’s it stopping?!”

“Sorry, we’re full,” Hermione said politely as the doors did open and a young couple with two little kids stood there, hoping to get on.

“Are you claustrophobic?” Trent asked, squinting up at Harry curiously.

“Shut up, Trent.”

Harry let Fred swipe the card that gave them access to room 1004 and squared his shoulders as he resolutely stepped inside.

“Oh.” Harry let out a relieved breath as he looked slowly around the room. The walls were all a clean white color, which matched the bedspreads on the two beds and the filmy curtains fluttering in front of an exit to an attached balcony. Harry’d expected something... darker, dirtier. More like the motels in downtown London. “This isn’t too bad.”

Fred was inspecting the television with a curious eye and looked up to smile happily at Harry. “Ten days of sun and fun,” he said. “This is paradise, darlin.”

Harry didn’t think it was paradise, but as long as he took the stairs instead of the confining lifts, it may wind up being a decent ‘vacation’.

The first day Sirius insisted on taking everyone to the beach outside their hotel and taking a million photos of them as they all tentatively explored the beach.

“We should have brought gillyweed,” Harry murmured to Fred and Trent as they stood ankle deep in the water. “Then we could find a shark or something.”

“Why would we want to find a shark?” Trent asked incredulously. “I’m starting to think Professor Snape is right, you really don’t have any self-preservation instincts.”

Harry and Fred shared a quick look, seeming to agree on a plan with just that look, before Fred snatched Trent and threw him over his shoulder.

“Neither do you,” Fred laughed as he carried Trent further in the waves over the sound of his protests. “Can you even swim?”

“NO!” Trent yelled. He gave Harry a pleading look over Fred’s shoulder as Harry laughed and followed them further in the water. “ARE YOU JUST GOING TO LET HIM KILL ME?”

“Yep.”

He wouldn’t.

But Fred wasn’t going to kill Trent either.

“You’re the worst godbrother ever,” Trent hissed after Fred dunked him in the water. His hair was sopping wet and made him look a bit like a green eyed kitten stuck in the rain, not very threatening at all in Harry’s opinion. “I’m trading you for Theo.”

Harry looked over his shoulder where Theo and Hermione were laying on towels in the sun, hand in hand, talking and laughing. Well, Hermione was talking, Harry could see her mouth moving from where he stood; Theo was gaping at her like he’d never seen a girl in a bikini before. Which, admittedly, Harry hadn’t either. And, objectively, Harry was sure that Hermione was attractive in her blue two piece that showed off her tanned skin and her curves, but Harry wasn’t much interested in gaping at her like Theo was.

He turned back to Trent and smiled sweetly for an instant before smirking. “Just for that...”

Harry could hear Sirius laughing from the shore with Lupin as Harry got in a vicious splashing war with Trent and Fred. Fred, traitor that he was, at some point switched sides to help Trent so Harry carefully used a small blast of magic to knock them down where they sputtered from the waves crashing in to them.

“Cheater!” Fred cried dramatically as they headed back to the shore. He had his arm over Harry’s shoulder and was smiling despite his baseless (and true) accusation. “Trent, this is a war now, you understand? Before we leave on the first, we have to kill Harry Potter.”

Trent snorted, “No. I like living, thank you.”

“Of course you do,” Theo snickered as the three of them threw themselves on the towels next to him and Hermione. “Free candy for life? What’s not to like about that?”

“It’s a shame nobody wanted to share a room with me,” Trent grinned as he stretched out and let the sun shine on his bare torso. “I brought loads of it with me.”

It was another quick look, further proof that Harry might be a great occlumens, but Fred didn’t have to be a legilimens to read his mind.

“Party in Trent’s room tonight then,” Fred said cheerfully as he laid back on his towel as well.

Harry tried very hard not to stare too much, but Fred shirtless and glistening from the water and the sun was rather distracting. He was probably failing anyway though, if Fred’s little pleased grin was any indicator.

Harry did glare heatedly at a pair of girls who walked by and giggled while they cast appreciative looks at Fred and Theo both.

“Put your shirts on,” Harry sighed after the girls were out of earshot. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Trent echoed him solemnly.

Harry decided he liked having a younger godbrother after all.

The next few days were a whirlwind of activities as Sirius tried to cram ‘fifteen years worth of family vacations’ in to ten days.

They traveled to fairs, where Harry slyly used a spell Amelia once taught him to make sure the muggles crowding everyone couldn’t touch him. He taught Trent how to play the games that Susan taught him to play the summer after his first year. He begrudgingly posed for group photos for Sirius and took some of his own when Theo smushed ice cream on Hermione’s nose.

He also convinced everyone to ride a roller coaster and shared a look of joy with Trent and Sirius that the others weren’t really experiencing.

One day, Sirius did the maddest thing he’d ever done in his entire life, and rented a fleet of ‘jetskis’.

“I don’t know about this...” Hermione said quietly as Sirius drug them to the dock where seven yellow water vehicles floated innocently. “I- I don’t know how to drive one.”

“Neither do we,” Lupin said reassuringly. “They’ll show us how, and everyone will have on life-jackets. It’s supposed to be fun, but if you don’t want to then you certainly don’t have to. I don’t mind going down to the beach with you instead.”

“Chicken,” Harry murmured to Hermione quietly with a small grin. “Guess all that talk about the Sorting Hat almost putting you in Gryffindor was bullshit, wasn’t it?”

Theo shook his head at Harry as Hermione’s chin jutted out stubbornly and she tied her hair back in to a ponytail. “Don’t antagonize my girlfriend in to a suicide mission,” he said.

“Quiet Theo,” Hermione said with a little snap to her tone. “Come on then Potter, let’s race.”

And bloody hell, if Harry thought flying was the most freedom he’d ever felt, it was only because he’d never gotten to do this before.

He laughed and shouted and whooped as he and Hermione recklessly raced between giant ships and speed boats. Theo and Fred got caught up in their own convoluted ‘obstacle course’ of which Harry’s blur of a jetski eventually became an obstacle to dodge.

At some point, Harry twisted the handle as far as it could go when a wave came up to him and, son of a bitch, he flew up in the air and somehow still landed without flipping the jetski over.

“Did you see that?!” he yelled to Lupin, who was closest to him at the time.

“I saw,” Lupin said with a soft smile.

Harry shrugged at Lupin’s lack of jubilation and turned until he found Sirius driving patiently alongside Trent, trying to coax him in to going faster.

“Hey, Trent!” Harry yelled and caught the boys attention. “I’ll let you drink tonight if you can beat me in a race!”

Trent’s face lit up even as Lupin called out half-hearted arguments against it.

Not that Trent beat Harry in a race anyway, not until Harry finally took a bit of pity on him and let him win the last one.

It was worth losing the last race when Hermione and Theo joined Harry and Fred in Trent’s room and they steadily got more and more pissed until one of them (Harry thought it was Hermione, Trent swore it was Harry) decided to sneak out of the hotel and go for a night swim.

Harry had a blurry recollection of getting roped in to playing some game on the beach with a group of muggle teens that were also drinking and listening to music. Harry and Theo were showing off for their partners a bit, as they stumbled and jumped around and tried to hit the ball, but Harry ultimately landed face first in the sand more times than he hit the ball over the net.

“I miss Barty,” he admitted as he and Theo were sharing a bottle between them while Hermione chatted up the muggle teenagers and Fred and Trent collected seashells.

“To Barty!” Theo lifted the bottle and took a deep swig before passing it to Harry.

“To Barty,” Harry murmured as he drank more and moped less.

Hermione swears that Harry broke his nose at some point, playing the game with the muggle teens, but Harry didn’t actually remember that so he’s fairly confident she’s lying. What he did remember were the laughs and smiles and jokes flowing freely between his friends that left Harry feeling weightless.

Harry crowded against Fred in their bed that night, pushing his face as far in to his neck as he could, and kissed him right below his ear. “Vacation is brill,” he breathed on his skin. “Innit?”

“Yeah.” Fred’s arms tightened around Harry and he buried his face in Harry’s sand-filled and saltwater soaked hair. “Bloody brill.”

The next morning, when the five teenagers were all sporting hangovers and sunburns, Sirius and Lupin dropped them off at a shopping center with cash and strict instructions to ‘send a message if anything happened before the agreed time to meet up for dinner’ and ‘for the love of god don’t get arrested Harry’.

Which was outrageously unfair.

And also had Harry feeling a bit like pushing his luck.

“Right then, let’s split up,” Harry said cheerfully as the five of them stood inside the entrance and looked around at the bright lights and music and people everywhere. “Fred, wanna go not get arrested with me?”

“Course.” Fred slung his arm over Harry’s shoulders and kissed the side of his head with a casual sort of ease. “Are we bringing your protégé with us or sending him with the bookworms?”

Harry eyed Trent’s bleary eyes speculatively for a moment for jerking his chin towards where Theo and Hermione were inching towards signs for a bookstore. “Sorry Trent.”

“Oh thank god,” Trent sighed as he took a few quick steps towards Theo.

Harry glanced up at Fred, his brows furrowed at Trent’s odd comment, but Fred shrugged, just as mystified as Harry was.

Harry and Fred had a brilliant time in the mall as they shopped for the most outrageous gifts they could find for their friends and Fred’s family.

“How’s this?” Fred laughed and held up a hot pink and yellow floral shirt against himself. “Just Snape’s style, eh?”

Harry pictured Snape wearing the shirt and laughed until tears pooled in his eyes and they bought it.

Harry would get Snape to wear that shirt at least once if it killed him.

They did spend a bit of time in a little hole in the wall shop filled with the most brilliant weapons Harry had ever seen.

“Look at those,” Harry practically moaned as he saw a whole wall of knives with sharp edges and glimmering handles. “Help me pick one out.”

“What do you need more knives for?” Fred asked curiously as he plucked the ones off the wall that Harry was too short to reach for his inspection. “You’re out of pockets to carry them darlin.”

“Don’t be daft,” Harry murmured as he carefully tested the sharpness of the pearl handled one Fred handed him. “I’m getting one for Trent’s birthday.”

“Obviously,” Fred laughed. “My mistake.”

“If he’s going to get so easily disarmed in fights, then I’m going to make him the fuckin deadliest bloke with a knife ever,” Harry said with determination. “Also I’m getting Luna one,” he added as he saw a knife with flowers all down the handle. “To cheer her up.”

“Obviously,” Fred said again.

The two of them also snuck around the various stores and gathering spots and tried to lay enough pranks out to mess with the crowds of muggles, but not so many that they would actually be arrested.

The wizards at the Portkey Authorization Port seemed to know Harry’s name, but Harry couldn’t be positive that he could fame his way out of trouble with American aurors.

Harry completely forgot about this important factor when a heavyset muggle with a thick mustache and squinty eyes shouldered him roughly at one point and muttered, “Fags,” as he gave Harry and Fred looks of disgust.

Harry cringed away from him, just a bit closer to Fred’s side, as he realized he bore an uncanny resemblance to Vernon Dursley.

“What the fuck?” Harry hissed, bewildered, as the muggle stalked away. “We aren’t even smoking!”

Fred looked as angry as Harry had ever seen him and explained through gritted teeth. “It’s an insult, love. Like... like ‘homo’ or ‘poofter’.”

Harry bristled indignantly and tracked the muggle as he made his way towards the food court. “Brill, c’mon.” He grinned cheekily up at Fred and nodded towards the empty table next to the one the muggle sat himself at. “Fancy something to eat?”

Fred laughed, his anger melting away immediately. “I love you,” he told Harry.

“And I love you,” Harry said loudly with a coy wink as he led Fred to the table.

And then Harry and Fred spent twenty minutes channeling the sappiest affects they could as they positively laid on one another and fed each other crisps.

Hermione, Theo, and Trent walked by at some point and shared looks of bewilderment.

“Don’t make eye contact or they’ll drag us in to whatever mad thing they’re doing,” Theo muttered as he ducked his head.

Not that Harry or Fred noticed anyway, as caught up as they were in irritating the muggle until he jumped to his feet and made a loud noise of disgust that drew quite a few sets of eyes to them.

“Coming, sweetheart?” Harry asked Fred brightly as he kept a subtle watch on the muggle heading towards the exit.

“With you? Anywhere,” Fred said with a sappy kiss to Harry’s hand that brought a faint blush to Harry’s cheeks.

Fred was much better at channeling his inner sap than Harry was.

And, after depositing the muggle in a dumpster behind the shopping center and adding a trash bin on top of it for good measure, Harry also admitted that Fred was much better at revenge without using magic as well.

“Wouldn’t do to get arrested the day before your birthday,” Fred said with a twinkle in his eyes as the muggle yelled obscenities at them through the metal dumpster. “C’mon, someone will find him when they bring trash out at closing tonight.”

When Sirius and Lupin arrived at six to take them to dinner, talk turned to Harry’s sixteenth birthday the next day.

“What would you like to do tomorrow, Harry?” Lupin asked as everyone grabbed slices of pizza. “It’s your birthday, we’ll do whatever you want.”

“Er...” Harry stalled as everyone turned to look at him. “I don’t care. Its our last day here, isn’t it? So, just, whatever you guys wanna do is fine.”

“Say ‘I’m having dinner with Fred tomorrow night’,” Fred whispered directly in Harry’s ear.

Harry bit his lip to hold back a laugh and repeated it dutifully, “I’m having dinner with Fred tomorrow night.”

Sirius looked exasperated as his grey eyes flicked between Harry and Fred. “Just the two of you?”

“Yep.”

“Fine,” he sighed. He pointed a fork at Fred though, “No funny business.”

“Me? Funny business? You’ve got the wrong bloke,” Fred grinned.

Harry, for the life of him, couldn’t imagine what ‘funny business’ Sirius thought Fred would pull. They already slept in the same bed every night and shared a wardrobe back at Harry’s house. He rolled his eyes at Sirius before quirking a brow at Theo’s whisper to Hermione and her quiet giggles as she glanced at Fred.

What the fuck?

At least Trent looked as confused as Harry did. Though, since Trent spent a lot of time looking confused, it wasn’t the greatest consolation prize.

“Now say, ‘Fred Weasley is the most handsome bloke in the universe,’” Fred whispered again, causing Harry to forget his confusion as he laughed and smacked his arm.

“Fred Weasley is a prat,” he said instead.

“Your prat,” Fred winked.

Sirius looked pretty put out by their banter, but since he’d been glued to Lupin’s side the whole trip practically oozing ‘love’, Harry figured he’d get over it.

Or not.

It wasn’t really Harry’s problem.

***

The morning of Harry’s birthday started out terribly.

He was literally pecked from his sleep by no less than half a dozen owls all bearing envelopes and Sevvie who was bearing a small cardboard box.

“Get em off,” Fred groaned as he batted away the owls circling their bed. “Merlin, darlin did you have to have so many friends?”

“Sorry,” Harry said quietly, trying to shoo the owls away from their bed. “Jesus, calm down you lot.”

“It’s fine.” Fred sat up and yawned before grinning at Harry. “Happy birthday darlin.”

“Thanks.” Harry swung his legs out of their surprisingly comfortable bed and started collecting letters from owls. He eyed the box Sevvie brought him with a bit of trepidation when it was Susan’s handwriting on the flap instructing him to ‘open in private’ with private underlined three times.

“What’s in there?” Fred asked curiously as he glanced over the letters Harry got. “Oi! This ones for me! And- blimey, this is yours. I think it’s our results.”

“Results?” Harry murmured distractedly as he peeked inside Susan’s box and blanched at the content.

What in the fuck?

He snapped the flap shut as Fred turned to him with an envelope held out.

“Your OWLS?” he said, politely ignoring the way Harry hastily pushed away the disgusting box.

“Oh. Oh!” Harry snatched the letter from Fred and the two of them slowly opened their results at the same time.

Harry James Potter Ordinary Wizarding Level Results:
Astronomy: E
Care of Magical Creatures: P
Charms: O
Defense Against Dark Arts: O
Divination: E
Herbology: E
History of Magic: P
Potions: O
Transfiguration: O

Harry read over his results once... twice... three times before he smiled victoriously.

“Four O’s, three E’s, and two P’s,” he said proudly. He didn’t give a damn about any of the results, really, especially not since he was dropping most of his classes come September, but it was nice to see decent grades. Fred gave him a pleased grin and pocketed his own results. “What’d you get then?”

“Six E’s,” Fred told him with a small grin. “Don’t tell my mum, alright?”

Harry laughed in agreement when there was a sudden pounding on their door and he could hear Hermione going spare in the hallway.

“Harry!! Harry!! Our results!! Let us in!”

By the time Harry made it to the door, Hermione’s eager knocking and shouts had woken up Trent, who peeked his head out at the commotion.

“Our exam results!” Hermione yelled, headless of the muggle hallway they were standing in. She waved an unopened envelope in Harry’s face, ignoring his scowl as he backed away. “Did you get yours?”

“Yep.”

“And?!” Hermione all but screeched.

“All O’s,” Harry lied boldly. Unlike Fred, Harry didn’t want to be underestimated and if Hermione thought Harry’s lax approach to OWLS had worked, maybe she wouldn’t be so bloody annoying during NEWTS next year. Hermione gave him a disbelieving look, but Harry wasn’t budging on his story. “What’d you get Theo?” he asked as he watched Theo’s eyes flick over his letter.

“Eight O’s, two E’s,” Theo breathed, his eyes transfixed on his results. “The E in history is Harry’s fault, of course.”

“What?” Harry snatched Theo’s results as Hermione fearfully opened hers. “How is an E in history meant to be my fault?” he demanded.

Theo also had an E in defense, which Harry was internally gloating about since he actually did have an O in that class.

“Because you ran out in the middle of the exam and had us all worried sick,” Theo said calmly, the grin flitting about his lips proof of his relief at his results. “Don’t worry, I’ll only hold it against you forever.”

“Hermione, what did you get?” Sirius and Lupin had joined the group in the middle of the hallway. Sirius was shirtless, which made Harry sidestep closer to Theo and further from Sirius while Hermione’s cheeks turned pink when she noticed the tattoos on his chest.

Only Harry heard Theo’s tiny sigh.

“I did... I did good,” Hermione said haltingly. “Fine, I guess.”

Trent darted forward and snatched her letter before backing away and laughing as he read it. “Eight bloody outstandings, and two exceeds expectations,” he read aloud. “One in history and one in defense.”

“Congrats you guys!” Sirius beamed at the three sixth years before turning to Fred. “And you?”

“All trolls,” Fred lied cheerfully. “Pity.”

“Pity,” Harry said with a smirk.

“Congratulations and happy birthday!” Trent yelled at Harry as he danced away from Hermione, taunting her with her letter. “Can we celebrate now?”

And they did.

Once everyone was dressed and Harry had stacked his other letters carefully to the side to read later, along with Susan’s mystery box that he put in his duffle bag and tried to forget even existed (what the fuck was Susan doing while he was gone?!), they all piled in Sirius’ borrowed car and drove to breakfast.

“Here’s to my favorite godson making it to sixteen without being arrested even once!” Sirius said with a tiny sniffle as he raised his glass of juice to Harry at breakfast. “I love you Pup.”

Harry bore everyone’s birthday wishes and gifts with good grace and cheer. Hermione and Theo got Harry an enchanted safe made of heavy thick metal and charmed to expand to fit all of his weapons and only allow him entry. Trent, unsurprisingly, got Harry a box of chocolates from Honeydukes. What was surprising was that they were all Harry’s favorites.

“We have shared a common room for two years now,” Trent said with only a little blush after Harry thanked him and asked how he knew what kind of sweets he liked.

Though, Lupin’s gift of heavy black earmuffs and safety goggles were a bit of a mystery until Sirius told him he had a ‘wicked gift to go with it’ for him back at the hotel.

Fred also said that he had a gift for Harry, but he was giving it to him at dinner.

“You’re joking,” Theo deadpanned when they got back to the hotel and Sirius revealed Harry’s gift. “You didn’t want him to sleep with Fred and you bought him another gun?”

“It’s beautiful,” Harry sighed happily. He stroked the cold metal lovingly and gave Sirius a bright smile. “Where’d you find it? It looks loads nicer than my other one.”

“That’s because Malfoy bought that one in an antique store and I bought this one in an actual gun shop,” Sirius said proudly. “Hell, I’d buy all you guys one if I knew you’d be going around killing death eaters with them.”

Theo looked even more pained, but as Sirius then revealed what he had planned for today, Harry ignored him in favor of internally swooning.

He kept up a nonchalant look, but only barely.

“You’re fucking amazing,” Harry told Sirius with stars in his eyes when they arrived.

“It was actually Moony’s idea,” Sirius said, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking just as eager as Harry was.

“It sounded like something you’d enjoy when I heard the muggle kids talking about it,” Lupin said slowly, his eyes glued to the sign and looking a bit like he wished he could take it all back.

“I hate you all,” Theo sighed despondently as he grabbed Hermione’s hand and stormed inside the building marked:

Miami Acres Paintball Field

And then, excluding the first actual birthday he’d ever had with the Contessa and Blaise, Harry proceeded to have the best birthday of his life.

Even Theo was grinning when they left.

“That still doesn’t count as payback,” he murmured with a pointed look at Harry’s knee where a dark green paint splotch marked where Theo hit him.

“It’s fine,” Harry said airily. He sent a pointed look at Theo’s back where Hermione surprisingly proved she was a dead good shot. “I’ve got two guns now.”

“And a safe to keep them in,” Lupin said hastily.

Right.

And a safe to keep them in.

Harry winked at Trent who laughed.

“Fred sent me and told me to tell you to wear something nice,” Hermione said as she just walked right in Harry’s hotel room and threw an outfit on his bed before flopping down on it.

Harry, who just came out of the bathroom in only a towel around his waist, lurched back in the bathroom in shock. “Get out,” he hissed. “Merlin, Mione.”

“I can’t,” Hermione said simply as she covered her eyes with her hand. “I’m under strict orders to make sure you dress up and brush your hair.”

“Fred said he wanted me to brush my hair?” Harry asked skeptically.

“No, but I can’t let you go out tonight with a head full of messy hair,” Hermione said. “Hurry up and get dressed.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Cissa,” Harry said accusingly as he snatched the clothes and retreated back to the bathroom. “Oi! What is this?!”

“Clothes,” Hermione laughed from the bedroom. “Hurry up. Fred’s waiting.”

“I look like a prat,” Harry complained when he stepped out of the bathroom, pulling on the collar of the shirt Hermione gave him. “Fred doesn’t give a damn what I wear.”

Harry saw Hermione’s glittering eyes and narrowed his own. “Hermione, did Fred send this stuff?” Harry gestured down at the tan trousers and navy blue shirt he wore.

“Alright, he didn’t,” Hermione admitted. “But you want to look nice tonight, right?”

“No.”

“Dress up a little for your date?”

“Nope.”

“Do it for Fred,” Hermione rolled her eyes. ”He’s getting dressed up for you.”

“Fine.” Harry huffed as Hermione grabbed a hairbrush and began to look at him like he was a complicated bit of homework. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” he told her. “Fred and I eat dinner together all the time.”

“Ooookay, afterwards when you thank me, remember this,” Hermione said. “And crouch down a bit. You got taller this year.”

Which was enough of a compliment to Harry that he suffered through her ministrations on his hair with minimal complains.

Plus, when Hermione was done, Harry could admit that he looked decent.

And, when Fred showed up with a muggle suit on and a picnic basket on his arm, Harry did give Hermione an appreciative look as they left.

“What are we doing?” Harry asked Fred curiously as he led him down the back stairs of the hotel, towards the beach exit.

“D’you trust me?” Fred asked instead as he stopped him in front of the exit.

Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”

Fred pulled a scarf out of the top of the basket and held it out with a playful smile. “Can I blindfold you for five minutes?”

Harry’s insides froze for a split second as he looked between the scarf and Fred. “Why?”

“It’s for a surprise,” Fred said. He put his hand on the side of Harry’s face and stroked his jaw line with his thumb. “Please? I’ll be right next to you the whole time. Five minutes, maybe less.”

Harry swallowed down his unease as he nodded again. “Maybe less,” he said tightly as Fred carefully tied the scarf over his eyes.

You’re not blind.

It’s not dark.

Four minutes left.

“I’m grabbing your hand, and now I’m opening the door. Little step, love.”

Harry was probably squeezing Fred’s hand a bit too tightly to seem very manly, but as he was blind and following Fred’s voice and his hand in an unfamiliar area, he didn’t much care at the time.

“Almost there... and... stop.”

Harry’s hands immediately tore up to the scarf and he ripped it off quickly with a heavy sigh of relief. “What’s—”

Harry closed his eyes then reopened them to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

Fred had brought him to a part of the beach that was partially concealed away with palm trees, but not so concealed that Harry couldn’t see the sun setting over the ocean in front of them. And everywhere Harry looked around him, the sand was decorated lavishly with candles and... and flower petals?

“What’s-” Harry gazed around at the candles and the flowers incredulously. “What’s all this?”

Fred didn’t answer, he just sat the basket on the ground and dropped down to one knee while he held Harry’s two hands tightly in one of his hands. His other hand fished out a black velvet box that he popped open and held up.

Harry’s breath left him in a quick whoosh as he blinked down at an actual ring in Fred’s hand.

“What’s- what’s this?” Harry asked in a thick voice.

Fred looked up at Harry, his face shining with adoration and an honest love so absolute that Harry knew nobody in the world, in any world, had ever, or would ever, love him this much.

And that was probably the most terrifying realization Harry had ever had.

“Harry, I love you more than anything in the world. I think I always have, and I know I always will. You’re a right terror and I would die for you. Will you marry me?”

Harry stared down at Fred, utterly dumbstruck. “W-why?” he asked in little more than a whisper. Did Fred really want to tie his entire life to Harry? With death eaters and Timmy calling for the blood of his friends? With Harry and... and just everything that comes with being Harry? “Why would you want to?”

Fred wasn’t put off by his question. He stayed precisely where he was and kept looking at Harry as if he were the sun itself. “All those reasons I listed and more. You’re my best friend Harry, my one true love. There’s never going to be anyone else for me. This is it. We’re it.”

Harry felt suddenly like his whole future was flashing in front of him. Love and laughter and happiness and joy and all the things that he always knew existed in the world but were not for him.

For others? Sure.

For Harry Potter? Never.

Harry was a disease on the world and intent on making others suffer as much as they made him suffer. He was the worlds karmic justice.

Except Fred didn’t think that.

Fred was looking at Harry like he really was a gift, like Fred was unbearably lucky to have Harry stand in front of him on this sandy beach and question his love.

Like Harry could have everything he used to dream about if he answered correctly.

“Yes,” Harry said, his voice an actual whisper now. “If you’re sure.”

Fred jumped to his feet and grabbed Harry so quickly that Harry would later swear he had apparated himself directly in his arms.

“I love you,” Fred swore heatedly. “I’m going to love you forever.”

Harry stared in Fred’s blue eyes, the truest shade of blue he’d ever seen, and a fierce and possessive sort of happiness seized his insides as Fred carefully slipped a ring on his finger.

This— this happiness- this love— this was his.

And he would never give it up.

“I love you,” Harry told him.

***

By the time they packed their bags and got ready to take the portkey back to Moon Lodge, Harry already felt wistful about having to leave.

Fred must have picked up on it because he squeezed Harry’s hand and glanced down at his ring before winking. “We’ll always have the memories darlin.”

Which was a brilliant idea.

As soon as Harry got home, he was bottling this memory and keeping it somewhere safe forever.

Chapter Text

July 29

“Here, may I?”

Draco was smiling as Luna bent her head forward so he could place the flowers he carefully braided together on top of her head, making her look like some sort of breathtaking nymph from a storybook.

She was so perfectly beautiful, so soft and gentle and sweet, it seemed so unlikely that she wanted him. Draco was all edges and he was always afraid that at some point he was going to accidentally cut her with one of his edges and she’d realize exactly who it was that she was with.

“And yours now,” Luna said softly as she placed a single flower behind Draco’s ear. “Perfect.”

Draco’s cheeks flushed with joy as Luna looked at him like she meant it. It was much too soon to say it, but for once, Draco didn’t care about the carefully outlined steps of the courting process. He grabbed Luna’s hand, slowly, and smiled at her.

“Luna, I—”

“There you guys are!”

Draco’s expression closed off immediately as Susan and Neville came bounding across the yard to them, arm in arm and looking overjoyed to have found them.

Another time then.

Draco would have been more putout by Susan’s interruption, if it weren’t for the smile of happiness Luna got on her face every time she was surrounded by her friends. He held back a scowl as he flipped over on his back to watch Ron and his brother fly around the treetops in Harry’s backyard while the girls and Neville chatted.

“I’m so bored,” Susan sighed as she put her head in Luna’s lap. “We should do something fun tonight.”

“I thought we did ‘something fun’ last night when we repainted your room?” Neville asked.

“That was just something that needed done,” Susan waved her golden hand flippantly. “I mean something fun tonight.”

“You mean something mad and dangerous?” Draco asked, recognizing the glint in her eyes.

“You know, I didn’t... but now that you mention it... that does sound like just the ticket, Draco, darling.” Susan winked mockingly at Draco even when Luna pulled on a lock of her hair a bit harder than necessary.

Susan was as bad as Harry anymore.

“Like what?” Neville asked hesitantly.

“Like...” Susan looked up at Luna and as their eyes met Draco had a sudden thrill of foreboding go through him at the quick grins they exchanged.

Susan was infecting Luna with her madness.

Which was entirely unappreciated since Draco has spent the last few weeks trying to coax Luna out of her own shell of sadness and madness that she kept trying to retreat to.

“Like girls night,” Susan said with a note of finality and a wide smile. “Tonight is girls night and you’re all invited.”

“No thanks,” Neville said immediately, echoing Draco’s exact thoughts. “Draco, want to see if Ron and Charlie fancy playing cards tonight?”

“We’d have to invite Uncle Severus too,” Draco smirked with his eyes shut as the sun warmed him.

“No... thanks....” Neville said again, much slower this time. “It’s weird, right? Living in Snape’s house? Am I the only one who thinks it’s weird?”

Draco, Susan, and Luna all answered at the same time, “Yes.”

Living with Uncle Severus wasn’t weird. Living with so many people was though.

Even if Draco did quite like his green room that Harry painted just for him.

Especially since Ron and Neville moved in to his room. Neville was meant to share with Blaise, who was still in Italy, and Ron was meant to share with George, who was staying at his shop, so they convinced Harry to move their beds to Draco’s room so the three of them could share.

Draco drew the line at sharing his wardrobe though. He didn’t care how much Ron and Neville teased him, he needed the whole wardrobe to himself.

“Plus it’s Harry’s house,” Susan pointed out logically to Neville. “Snape just happens to live here as well.”

“That doesn’t actually make it any less weird,” Neville said. Then he sighed, “Fine, let’s see if Professor Snape wants to play poker with us while Susan and Luna do something absolutely insane.”

Draco grinned a bit. He knew Uncle Severus wouldn’t want to play poker with them, he’d barely left his office since Harry left for vacation, but Neville had to get over his nervousness of living with him.

“Excellent, you can ask him,” Draco drawled. He peeped one eye open to find Ron and Charlie and cupped his hands around his mouth, “OI! Weasley’s! Want to play cards tonight?”

“Sure mate,” Ron yelled back to him with a cheerful smile that Draco shook his head at.

Ron was one of the most cheerful people Draco knew. Just... just cheerful to the point it made Draco question his sanity sometimes. Draco watched him fly around for a few minutes while Neville tried to convince Susan to invite Uncle Severus to card night in his place and thought about how he would act if he was Ron.

If his father was dead instead of rotting in a prison cell.

If his mother was supporting the enemy instead of living in his allies house with him.

Draco closed his eyes again and decided that he wouldn’t be cheerful at all and Ron must be infected with the same insanity that his other friends had.

Pity.

Draco’s best friend was a red-headed, freckled, crazy person.

***

Draco barely kept up his lofty Malfoy-mask when he brought the cards in to the dining room that night. Ron had clearly already gotten the house-elves to help him practically bury the table in a variety of snacks so outrageous that Hogwarts would be put to shame.

And there wasn’t a fruit or vegetable in sight.

Which suited Draco just fine.

“I did it,” Neville groaned as he threw himself in a chair and covered his face with his arm.

And people called Draco dramatic.

“Did what?” Ron asked him.

“He asked Uncle Severus if he wanted to come play poker with us,” Draco snickered as he took a seat across from Ron.

“Did you really?” Charlie asked, sounding impressed. “Is he even alive in there?”

“Don’t joke about that or Harry’s going to apparate any second,” Ron muttered.

Draco actually looked over his shoulder to make sure Harry wasn’t standing behind him.

Harry would probably kill them all if something happened to Uncle Severus while he was gone.

“He’s alive, he says he is busy and ‘doesn’t play cards’,” Neville said, poorly imitating Uncle Severus’ drawl. “But... but he does drink,” he moved his arm from his face and grinned. “With Tonks,” he added in a whisper.

“Old news,” Draco yawned. “They drink together all the time. They’re friends.”

Charlie, for whatever reason, seemed to find Draco’s statement to be the peak of high comedy. He began shaking with silent laughter, the muscles in his arms literally twitching with it.

“What’s so funny?” Ron demanded hotly on Draco’s behalf. “They do drink together. They did it back at Hogwarts last year too.”

Charlie’s laughter only increased until Ron and Draco were both red in the face and Draco was trying to silently summon his wand to jinx him.

“Oh just shut up so we can play,” Draco snapped, cross that he couldn’t just summon his wand like Harry did. “Who’s dealing?”

“I’ll deal,” Neville offered.

Draco tossed him the cards and they got down to business.

After nearly an hour, Draco was finally on a winning streak. Ron might be better at guessing other people’s strategies, but he was terrible at bluffing and hiding his emotions. Draco had a lifetime worth of work to excel at both of those things.

Charlee was unexpectedly good at poker, considering it was a muggle card game that Draco learned from Harry.

“I had a muggleborn flatmate back in Romania that was obsessed with these games,” he explained as he shuffled the cards with ease.

“Do you miss it?” Neville asked him as he squinted then sighed at the cards in his hand that Charlie dealt him.

Neville was abominable at poker.

“What’s not to miss?” Charlie laughed. “Dragons and lager and all my best mates? Getting paid to rescue and rehabilitate abused dragons? It’s a dream.”

“Why are you still here then?” Draco asked after he grimaced quickly at the excellent cards he’d been dealt.

Not too quickly though, he needed Ron to see his apparent dismay.

“Waiting for the war to be over,” Charlie said with a careless shrug. “I don’t want to be on a job if something happens here.”

Gryffindors and their chivalry.

If Draco was working with actual dragons, he wouldn’t come home for a war. That was mad.

“I see,” he said diplomatically.

The game continued, and Draco truly was on a winning streak that he couldn’t wait to tell Blaise about. That prat thought he was the best player in their group, and Draco couldn’t wait to inform him otherwise.

Neville finally conceded and was snacking on crisps as he watched Ron’s cards over his shoulder when a pointed cough drew Draco’s attention from his own cards to the dining room doorway.

“What are you two doing?” Ron sighed as he too took notice of Susan and Luna standing there with mischief painted all over their faces.

Draco was a bit more concerned with examining what Luna was wearing. If he wasn’t mistaken, and he rarely was when it came to clothes, that was his leather jacket that Harry got him for his last birthday she was wearing.

Then Luna winked at him, winked, and Draco was certain that was his jacket.

It was fine.

It looked better on Luna than it did Draco anyway.

Actually, Draco tried to be subtle as he kept glancing at her, Luna looked brilliant in it and Draco would rather she just keep the jacket.

And since Susan wore a matching one, that Draco was pretty sure came straight from Harry’s wardrobe, the two of them looked devastating together.

“We need Charlie,” Susan said with a charming smile. “Just for a couple of hours, then you boys can have him back.”

“What d’you want Charlie for?” Ron asked suspiciously. “We’re playing cards.”

“We need someone to apparate us somewhere,” Luna said. “And someone to stay with us until we’re done because I promised Harry I would stay with Charlie, Tonks, or Professor Snape while he was gone and I don’t want to break my promise.”

“And I need someone to possibly cast a couple spells because it’s a muggle area and I don’t want Auntie to show up before I’m done,” Susan said.

It wasn’t until Draco processed what she said, along with the flash of anger in her eyes, that Draco had an inkling of what they were doing.

Girls night.

Merlin.

He’d forgotten.

“Absolutely not,” he said before Charlie could answer them. “You’re going to go kill those muggles, aren’t you? You’ll be arrested, Luna.”

He didn’t really care if Susan was arrested. If she was then Harry would break her out of Azkaban and could get his father as well. But he didn’t want Luna anywhere near a dementor. Even picturing her alone in a dark cell in that terrible prison, alone and afraid, clenched his heart painfully.

“What muggles?” Charlie asked as Ron and Neville groaned as they remembered the same conversation Draco did.

“Harry’s muggles,” Neville said. “The Dursley’s.”

Everyone curled their lips up at the mention of Harry’s relatives, except for Charlie who was woefully ignorant.

“Why would you go kill Harry’s muggles?” Charlie asked. He crossed his arms and leaned forward to rest them on the table as he studied the girls. “Seems like the sort of thing Harry would be mad about, isn’t it?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Susan said, “it’s for his birthday.”

Draco covered his eyes with his hand, content to let the Weasley’s explain how murdering muggles was a gift more appropriate for the Dark Lord than it was for Harry.

Even though Draco thought Harry would actually probably like it.

Could you even gift wrap homicide?

“Why would you kill some muggles as a birthday gift?” Charlie asked. “Thats a bit odd, isn’t it?”

“Harry’s a bit odd...” Neville mumbled with a grin, unheard by anyone except Draco who nodded in vehement agreement.

“Harry knows I’m planning on killing them,” Susan said with a toss of her hair. “Now, will you apparate us or not?”

“Not,” Charlie said flatly. “I’m not interested in being the kind of bloke who goes killing muggles for fun. I think I’ll leave that to the death eaters.”

Draco tilted his chin at Charlie, a bit of respect begrudgingly welling in him for his refusal. Luna stepped a little closer to Susan, clearly content to allow her to fight this battle for them.

Susan scowled then abruptly became contemplative, which was much worse than angry. “Charlie, you rescue dragons, right? Ones that have been abused and tortured by their owners?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever roughed up one of those owners? Taken a bit of revenge on the dragons behalf?”

Charlie uncrossed his arms and cracked his knuckles while his lips twisted in thought. “I suppose so, a time or two,” he eventually said. “It’s not right what they’ve done though. They take these innocent creatures and just—”

“Just hurt them,” Susan interrupted him with a look so sharp that Draco could barely look at her without feeling it cut right in to him. “Exactly.”

A heavy weight fell over the group as they all processed what Susan was saying.

It wasn’t shocking news.

Except it made Draco terribly uncomfortable. Like the inside of his skin was itching.

“Harry wouldn’t want us to talk about it,” Neville said quietly. “He’ll be pissed.”

“And that’s a heavy accusation to make,” Charlie said firmly, his eyes locked on Susan’s. “Any proof?”

“You want proof?” Susan’s nostrils flared as she put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot irritably. “Are we all just pretending that we don’t know who gave Harry that scar on his face? Who made Harry believe muggleborns would be better off living separate from their families? Who Harry would rather have slept outside than lived with? Is that what we’re pretending? Because I don’t need proof, Charles, I’m just not an idiot.”

Draco’s stomach curled with both guilt at the truth in her words and anger at those vile muggles.

Who the hell were they to treat their Harry so poorly?

Who were they to permanently mark his skin?

Who were they to try and break the greatest wizard Draco had ever, or would ever, know?

“I’m in,” Draco said in a voice so hard he barely recognized it as his own while the others were struck silent at Susan’s rant. He looked up and locked eyes with Luna, who looked like some sort of beautiful and vengeful angel. “I can see if my mother would take us,” he offered.

“Harry said Charlie, Tonks, or Professor Snape,” Luna said softly. “I promised.”

“I’m in,” Neville said firmly. “Let’s go ask Tonks.”

Draco was halfway out of his chair when Charlie cleared his throat.

“Is it true? What the paper said about Harry’s muggles?” he asked Ron.

Ron who was a shit liar.

“Er... I mean Harry never said for sure...”

“Do I seem like the type of person to be doing this for fun?” Susan demanded, drawing the boys’ eyes directly to her.

And yes. The way Susan stood there, her hair a fiery red and loose on her leather clad shoulders, looking like the Goddess of War, did actually look like the type of person who would do this for fun.

“A bit,” Charlie agreed with Draco’s thoughts out loud. “I’m not taking a group of kids to go commit murder though.”

Susan blinked very slowly as she stared Charlie down until a smile split her face in two, “Spot of light torture then?”

And, apparently Charlie Weasley had no problem taking a ‘group of kids’ to go commit some ‘light torture’.

Draco was beginning to think that he was the only sane one in the group, even as he hastily grabbed one of Ron’s jumpers to throw on before he went with the others.

***

“Sh!” Susan shushed them as they slowly approached the most boring house Draco had ever seen in his life. It looked just like all of the neighboring houses, except perhaps with less flowers and green shrubbery in the front garden.

“How d’you know this is the right place?” Ron whispered.

An excellent question.

“I had Hermione look up the address in a tellyphone book,” Susan said. She straightened up and patted her pockets once as they stood on the steps of ‘#4 Private Drive’.

“Are we going in?” Neville asked hesitantly as Susan just glared at the door.

“Neville, love, you’ve been friends with Draco and Harry for six years now, why can’t you appreciate a moment for dramatics?” Susan sighed. She looked over at Charlie who had his hands in his pockets and a look of barely controlled anger on his face. “Ready then?”

Charlie glanced over his shoulder at the others and furrowed his brow for a moment. “Draco, Ron, Neville, Luna, why don’t you guys wait out here?”

“No thank you,” Luna said brightly. “I’d rather go inside.”

“Me too,” Draco said with a stubborn tilt to his chin.

“We’ll- uh- keep guard,” said Ron while Neville nodded in agreement.

Some people just didn’t have the stomach for torture.

Not that Draco knew if he had the stomach for torture or not, but if Luna was going inside where these nasty muggles were, then so was he.

Susan raised her hand to knock and Draco suddenly remembered when he first met Harry. It was when he was shopping for his school supplies for the first time. And Draco had been standing on the stool, getting his school robes fitted, feeling every inch the prince his parents always told him he was, when Harry came in.

Tiny.

Merlin, he’d been tiny.

And... and Draco can remember clearly how Harry had flinched and fell right off his stool when Madame Malkin patted his shoulder.

“Let me,” Draco said. He knocked Susan’s hand to the side and rapped his knuckles on the muggle’s door twice.

The six of them stood in silence as they heard a man yelling from inside the house.

“PET! THE DOOR!”

“Fuck this,” Susan muttered before twisting the doorknob and stepping right inside.

Draco and Luna exchanged a quick look before stepping in directly behind Susan and Charlie, Neville and Ron waiting outside for them.

A woman, tall and thin with mousey brown hair and a face that vaguely resembled an abraxan came to a quick halt in a boring little foyer as they let themselves inside. “What? Who are you?? Vernon!” she shrieked.

“We’re friends of your nephew,” Susan said with a bright smile as Charlie swished his wand subtly at his side.

Draco would have asked what he cast, but the lock clicking in the door and the slight buzz of a privacy charm was undeniable.

“Ugh.” Draco was unable to hold his cool mask of disgust in the face of the giant of a man who came waddling in the foyer. He had to be at least as wide as he was tall and had a ridiculously thick mustache to boot. “Vernon Dursley, I presume?”

“Who the ruddy hell are you?” The man puffed up and his face was quickly turning an amusing shade of purple.

“I just told you, friends of Harry,” Susan said.

“We d-don’t know any Harry,” the woman said. In contrast to the man that was obviously her husband, her face was pasty white and her eyes were glued to Charlie’s hand. “P-please go. We don’t want any fr—”

“You weren’t about to say anything ‘freaky’, right?” Susan hissed, taking a step closer to the woman. “Because that’s what you think Harry is, right? Freaky?”

“We don’t know any Harry!” the man roared. He pushed his scrawny wife behind him as he blocked Susan’s approach. “You had better leave before we call the police!”

“We just wanna talk a bit,” Charlie said. He leaned against the wall nearest to him, flexing his arms through his shirt and accidentally knocking a photograph off the wall and breaking the glass on it.

Or maybe it was on purpose.

It was a rather hideous photograph of a boy just as large as this man with this woman’s mousey hair.

“Pet, go call the police,” the man said with his ugly purple face and disgusting mustache and Draco suddenly saw a bit of red and did something he’d always been bad at in defense club meetings.

He lunged forward and punched him right in his mouth.

The man got knocked a few steps back, which pushed ‘Pet’ back a few steps as well.

Draco was pretty sure he broke his hand, but he wouldn’t be saying that to anyone, would he?

“Call the police,” he hissed at the man. “I can’t wait to tell them about what you did to your nephew, you disgusting piece of garbage.”

“WE DON’T HAVE A NEPHEW!” ‘Pet’ shrieked. “WE TOLD SNAPE THAT YEARS AGO! WE DONT HAVE ONE!”

“That’s peculiar, because Harry definitely has an aunt Petunia and an uncle Vernon,” Luna hummed. She put her hand on Draco’s shoulder, suddenly reminding him that he was nearly nose to nose with the muggle man. “He has a terrible aunt who stood by and called him names and allowed him to be abused by a terrible uncle who put a scar on his face and made him think all muggles are dirt. Which, for the record,” Draco peeked over his shoulder at Luna and saw a look of such disgust on her face that he had never seen before, “the two of you are,” she said. “Not all muggles, obviously, but certainly you two.”

“Magic,” Petunia whispered behind Vernon. She tightened her grip on his shirt until Draco could see her knuckles were white. “They’re magic.”

“We are,” Luna said. “Come on Draco, let’s wait outside while Susan and Charlie talk with them.”

Draco did not want to ‘wait outside’ anymore.

He rather wanted to hit that man again until he broke his other hand.

It was unthinkable— that Draco got to be raised as a beloved, precious, spoiled, prince of a child while Harry, Harry who was his best friend, Harry who moved Draco and his mother to his safe house, Harry who never knew that people loved him, got these people.

Draco didn’t know if it was shame or anger that was flushing his face and causing his breaths to come so quickly, but he did allow Luna to guide him outside where he stormed past Ron and Neville and immediately began kicking all the ugly flowers in the garden.

“Stupid- bloody- pieces- of- filth!”

“You couldn’t have known.”

Draco didn’t look up, he didn’t acknowledge Luna at all, except to kick up a few more flowers especially viciously.

“How could you have?” Luna said softly, her voice coming closer and causing Draco to cease his kicking in case he accidentally hit her. “You didn’t even know him then.”

“Someone should have done something,” Draco said. “It’s outrageous. It’s disgusting. It’s—”

“It’s life.” Luna said simply. She wrapped her arms around Draco’s waist as he glared down at the ruined garden he stood in. “Life isn’t fair, is it?”

Draco considered his father in prison.

Luna’s father murdered by death eaters.

Ron’s father killed by a snake.

Susan’s parents dead since she was a baby.

Theo’s father, mean and dead.

Neville’s parents driven to catatonic insanity by Draco’s own aunt.

And Harry’s childhood where nobody ever told him he loved him.

Even though Draco got to hear it as many times a day as he wanted.

“No,” he said, “it isn’t.” Luna settled her chin on Draco’s shoulder. “Why’d you make me come outside? I didn’t want to.”

“You were very close to cursing him,” Luna said airily, like it didn’t bother her at all.

And it probably didn’t.

Luna loved Harry.

“I didn’t want to be arrested.”

Draco laughed, a bit hysterically, and he opened his mouth to tell Luna he loved her, except what he said was, “When we have kids, can we make Harry their godfather?”

“Hmm. No I don’t think so,” Luna said, very seriously. “Harry’s a bit dangerous, isn’t he? I don’t know that he would be a very good godfather to our kids.”

Draco turned around, with Luna’s arms still around his waist, and skipped steps four, five, and six when he leaned forward and kissed her.

It was soft. It was short.

It tasted like sugar.

And it would be Draco’s favorite memory for the rest of his life.

“You’re right,” he said. He pulled away a little and his cheeks were pink when he saw Ron and Neville grinning on the Dursley’s porch. “We’ll ask Neville.”

“Perfect,” Luna whispered. Her eyes were sparkling. Not like they were when she was faraway in her own mind, but like she was just as happy in this moment as Draco was.

And then their perfect moment was broken by a terrible scream that was abruptly cut off.

Probably by a silencing spell.

Smart.

A few minutes later though, Susan came waltzing right out the door. Covered in blood and effectively ruining Draco’s attempt to re-seize the moment Vernon Dursley’s scream ruined.

“They dead?” Ron asked carelessly as Charlie followed Susan out the door, looking a little shaken.

“They wish,” Susan laughed. She patted her jacket pocket and wiggled her brows at Charlie. “You’re a genius Charlie.”

“And you’re a bloody psycho,” Charlie sighed with a shake of his head. “Can we go now?”

“We can.” Susan offered Charlie her blood-covered arm with a grin. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Charlie shook his head again, but he seemed happy enough to take Susan’s arm.

***

Draco’s face paled the next morning as he looked at the box in front of Susan. “What on earth is that?”

“Harry’s birthday present,” Susan murmured.

“You’re sending... you’re sending Harry a- a finger?” he gasped. ”For his birthday?”

“It’s his uncle’s finger,” Susan said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. “Duh.”

Of course.

Silly him.

Who wouldn’t want an actual bloody finger delivered to them on holiday as a birthday present?

Though, as Draco was signing his own short birthday message to Harry—

Happy birthday Harry. I have a present for you when you get home. Hurry home please, Susan is insane and we all miss you.
Love you,
-Draco

—Draco realized that a bloody finger of a man who once tormented him was actually probably just the sort of thing Harry would like. Because Harry was a lunatic. And Draco missed him terribly and couldn’t wait for him to come home.

Chapter Text

Headmistress McGonagall,
I apologize for the delay in writing this, however, I regretfully must resign from my position as Deputy Headmaster and Potions Professor, effective immediately.
-Severus T. Snape

***

August 5

“Harry, may we talk?”

Harry barely lifted his eyes from the paper as his lips quirked up in a wry grin. “It’s real and I’m keeping it,” he said.

Severus was caught off guard by that response until he looked down at Harry’s left hand and rolled his eyes.

“I knew about the ring before you did,” he said lightly as he took a seat. “Though, that is not what I wanted to discuss.”

Harry looked up and smiled more genuinely, as weightless and relaxed as he’d been since he arrived home a few days ago. “Did Fred ask you for your blessing?” he laughed. “He’s mad.”

“He would have to be, to be with you,” Severus smirked. “Did you assume I would attempt to talk you out of accepting it?”

“Yep.” Harry poured Severus a cup of coffee and floated it to him. “Sirius was mad as hell, wasn’t he? Said I’m too young, Fred’s too old, etc etc,” Harry waved his hand in the air. “I told him if he kept it up that we’d get married on my next birthday and he wouldn’t be invited.”

Severus took a sip of his coffee and hummed in acknowledgement.

It wasn’t that the mutt was wrong, for once, seventeen was quite young to be married. Sixteen was young to be engaged.

But Black was unaware that Harry had a limited number of birthdays left and if this brought him joy, something Harry has had far too little of, then Severus would sign as a witness himself.

Which brought him to the topic he needed to discuss, in a roundabout way.

“I have written to Minerva, I am resigning from my position.”

“What??” Harry’s jaw dropped as he stared incredulously at Severus. “From being deputy headmaster or teaching potions?”

“Both.”

“But...” Harry blinked then slid his expressionless mask on his face. The mask that could hide all but the betrayal in his eyes. “But I’m taking NEWT potions?”

“I know,” Severus said, “but I am certain that Minerva can find an adequate teacher to replace me. I have a friend, Wayne Ramsey, who I have recommended for the position. You will like him, he went to Illvermony and does not believe in the concept of wands either.”

Harry ignored Severus’ half-hearted jest. “Is it because of Sirius?” he asked, sounding a bit desperate. “He can quit, can’t he? You don’t need to.”

Severus reached out and put a calming hand in Harry’s arm. “It is not because of Black,” he said truthfully. “I simply feel that my talents would be best served elsewhere.”

Harry grasped Severus’ hand with his own, his eyes now frantic. “Then I’ll quit too,” he said. “Who cares about NEWTS?”

“Absolutely not,” Severus said firmly. “You enjoy school— you enjoy being with your friends,” he amended himself at Harry’s scoff. “Do not short yourself this time with them on my behalf, Harry. Hogwarts is still your second home, your birthright to attend. You cannot quit because of me.”

Lord only knew if Harry would be able to complete his last two years of education. No need to cut it even more short.

“I’m not going without you,” Harry said, just as firmly as Severus. “What if Dumbledore gets voted back in, huh? And he tries to kill me again? What then?”

“Then you may send me a message and I will come show Albus the error of his ways,” Severus said, forcing calm in his tone despite the flash of anger he felt at the scenario. “Although, granted you do not end up possessed by the Dark Lord again, I do not foresee that being a problem.”

At present.

Because Albus would certainly be attempting to find a way to eradicate the horcrux in Harry’s head. And, as the battle in May proved, he was not above killing Harry to achieve this.

Which did not bode well for Severus’ increasing efforts to find a way around it.

“Sev, don’t quit,” Harry said quietly. “I don’t wanna beg, but I’ll give you one favor in exchange. Yeah?”

Severus wanted to give in, he wanted to assure Harry that as long as he was a student at Hogwarts, Severus would be the potions professor. But he had to stay firm. He had to take the time and dedicate it to finding a way to end the Dark Lord without ending Harry. And since Flamel’s stone had been a spectacular bust, he had to find another way and he needed to do so quickly before Albus or the Dark Lord made an attempt on Harry’s life.

Again.

“I cannot.” Severus squeezed Harry’s arm with soft pressure before withdrawing his hand. “Ramsey is a genius, you will enjoy having him teach. He spent some time in the American military after he got his mastery in potions.”

“If you’re quitting then I’m dropping potions,” Harry said with a petulant pout.

“You have already dropped most of your classes, what do you plan on doing in your free time with only three courses?” Severus asked with a raised brow.

“Dunno,” Harry shrugged. “McGonagall said I couldn’t be the Slytherin quidditch captain if I was playing professionally, but since I’m not, I guess I’ll write her and ask if I can still be captain. So just quidditch, defense, transfiguration, and charms then. Maybe I’ll ask if we can start the club back up.”

“I will write to Minerva for you. I can inform her of your change of quidditch status and ask about your club,” Severus offered. “I have not sent off my resignation yet, I wanted to inform you first.”

“Ta,” Harry rolled his eyes, but seemed willing to accept it without too much of a fight. “You’re going to be so bored,” he said. “No essays to grade or Gryffindor’s to terrify? Pft, what are you even going to do?”

Severus subtly studied the only child he would lay his life down for and let out a mock-sigh. “Sleep, I suppose.”

As if.

Life continued on in typical fashion within their household. Harry and his friends went and purchased their supplies for the upcoming year; Nymphadora, Black, and one of the wolves from Lupin’s pack accompanied them to ensure there was no risk of danger to the now quite well-known group.

Severus only mildly hoped that Death Eaters would burn down Frederick’s shop when the students all returned to their house with bags full of ‘joke items’.

Severus continued his research, torn between searching for a way to either separate Harry from the horcrux, or to destroy him without killing him. He also dedicated a small amount of time towards finding the location of Rowena Ravenclaw’s lost diadem, though that was low on his list of priorities.

He also spent quite a bit of time with Miss Lovegood as they worked together in his lab. And Lovegood was just as ingenious with potion recipes as Severus knew she would be. In fact, the first time they were brewing Harry’s potion together, she softly suggested a change.

“If we added a counterclockwise stir before adding the powdered daffodil stems, wouldn’t that reduce the brewing time?” she asked with her wide and earnest eyes.

Severus ran through the recipe in his mind twice with Lovegood’s suggestion and his own eyes lit up as he summoned the written recipe and added her correction in the margins. “It would be a disservice to the world if you did not pursue a mastery after you graduate,” Severus said. “I would be quite pleased to recommend you to a number of brewers that I know. In fact, the witch I apprenticed under still accepts students if they have proven themselves in the field when they apply.”

“I’ve always imagined myself studying creatures,” Lovegood said as she chopped their next required ingredients. “Creatures are just kind, aren’t they sir? They don’t care if you’re ‘loony’ or not. They just want someone to treat them nicely.”

Severus was reminded of the precise reasons that he had fallen so deeply in love with potions. “Neither do potions,” he said gently. “Within the lab, there are no whispers or worries about who you are, all that matters is your talent. Which you have, Miss Lovegood. You have talent in spades.”

“I do like brewing,” Lovegood said thoughtfully. “My mother was a potions master, just like you sir. And my dad loved studying creatures. But they’re both dead now, so perhaps I shouldn’t do what they did.”

Severus had dropped the subject after that and they continued their brewing in a comfortable silence.

And every morning, during their breakfast, Severus struggled to inform Harry of the horcrux. He opened his mouth at least a dozen times, intent on telling him, and faltered each time.

It was cowardly, but Severus could not bring himself to inform Harry of the horcrux. After his horrifying breakdown from the Dark Lord’s possession, Severus did not want to be the one to see that light of joy in his eyes fade once more.

Two weeks away from the start of term, Trent Bailey showed up in their floo with an excited light in his eyes and a bag on his back.

“Professor Snape, hello,” he stuck his hand out to Severus, the sole occupant of the sitting room. “Are you having a good summer?”

“It certainly has been summer,” Severus said drily as he accepted the boys hand. “How has yours been?”

“Brill!” Bailey bounced in place as he looked around the room, missing Severus scowl at Harry’s vocabulary being passed along to the next generation of Slytherins. “We went on vacation and staying with Sirius and Remus has been amazing. They’re really smart, you know, they helped me get all my homework for the summer done super quick.”

“I will take your word for it,” Severus said. He eyed the bag on Bailey’s back and realized the date. “Are you staying until term begins?”

“Yes sir,” Bailey said, turning back to Severus now. “The wedding is this weekend, it’s going to be amazing, then they’re going on a little trip together. Then—”

“Harry!” Severus cut Bailey off as he yelled up the staircase.

He had forgotten how much the boy could talk.

Although, when Harry came bounding down the stairs with a quick smile and told Trent that he had ‘brill plans’, Severus thought perhaps he should have simply suffered through the prattle. There was no telling what ‘plans’ Harry had for the boy.

Another follower for the Boy-Who-Adopts-Every-Hopeless-Cause-Available.

And yes, Severus did firmly have himself within that circle of hopeless causes.

“IF YOU BREAK ONE MORE GOD DAMNED WINDOW I WILL MELT EVERY KNIFE WITHIN THIS HOUSE!” Severus screamed out his shattered office window the next afternoon. “LEARN TO FUCKING AIM OR PUT THEM AWAY!”

“Sorry!” Bailey yelled back, his hands behind his back and his face quite apologetic. “I’m sorry!”

“Ignore him,” Harry said with a laugh. “C’mon, Trent, just focus on the target.”

Harry came jogging up to Severus’ window and he gave him a cheeky salute as he effortlessly repaired it. ‘Better?’ he mouthed from the other side.

No.

Not ‘better’.

Though if Harry insisted on teaching Bailey and his other friends gathered around him how to ‘kill an attacker with a knife’, and Mavis insisted they do it outdoors, it was likely the best Severus would get.

And, when another knife bounced off Severus’ window, cracking the glass, Severus gave up entirely on his book and moved outside to watch Harry in his element.

Harry, who had no patience for much of anything, whose temper was always boiling just beneath the surface, was truly just as excellent of a teacher with weapons as the students at Hogwarts had said he was.

Severus enjoyed watching him teach the others, even if it was undoubtedly a tragedy that Harry had likely honed these skills as a small child.

Regardless of how competent of a teacher he was proving to be, when Harry announced that he was going to be showing the others how to shoot a gun and Severus had to step in.

He didn’t stop him, had no desire to do so really, he merely insisted on every protective spell he could for the children and the house.

Then he summoned a drink from the house and relaxed as he witnessed the debacle that was Ronald Weasley using a gun.

“You wanna try?” Harry asked when he noticed Severus’ amused smirk.

Severus nearly said no, but the challenge in Harry’s eyes was quite obvious.

“Certainly.”

Severus accepted the gun that Black bought Harry for his birthday (the man had always been an insufferable moron) and squared his shoulders as he aimed it at the center of the target Harry had pinned to a tree 20 or so yards away.

Severus pulled the trigger as he exhaled, and his smirk grew when the bullet hit the small black dot in the center of the board.

“How did you do that?!” Bones yelled indignantly. “You can’t have all that—” she waved her hand in Severus’ direction, “—going on and be good with a weapon!”

“And yet...” Severus carefully returned the gun to Harry, noticing a look of amazement in his wards eyes. “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Harry agreed with a laugh. “C’mon, who next?”

It was a specific type of torture, watching Harry conduct training sessions in their backyard. As Harry barked instructions to his friends, Severus could recall the small boy who used to flinch at shadows. When Harry laughed and casually twirled a knife between his fingers, a spark of cunning in his eyes, Severus could picture precisely how Harry would look in ten years. A young man, surrounded by his friends and family, undoubtedly teaching the future children of his friends the benefits of knowing how to utilize muggle weapons in magical fights.

It was agony to know that despite how far Harry has came in his life, his journey would be cut drastically short in one way or another.

Severus relished in the torture though, he embraced it and allowed it to fill his every nerve.

One day, when decisions were made and the unthinkable happened, these were the images Severus would carry before he followed his child to the grave.

***

The morning before the wolf and mutt wedding, a date Severus only knew due to the incessant conversations discussing it, Severus wearily stepped in to the dining room, dressed in his sleep clothes still, and paused as soon as he saw Harry slumped over on the table. His shoulders were tense and his face was buried in his arms.

Which was a far cry from the relaxed and joyful child that has been wrecking havoc within their home since his return from vacation.

“Harry?” Severus slowly and noisily stepped closer to Harry’s seat. “Are you alright?”

“‘M fine.” Harry’s voice was muffled by his arms and sounded entirely ‘not fine’. “I need your help.”

“Certainly.” Severus was uneasy by Harry’s continued refusal to lift his head. Had he been crying? Was he injured? “Would you look at me?”

“No.”

“Harry.”

“Is anyone else in here? Blippy or Roo or Mavis or anyone?”

Severus looked around, “No.”

“If you laugh I will fucking kill you.”

Severus’ lips twitched and he took a deep breath before calming himself. “I will not laugh.”

Harry slowly lifted his head and it took all of Severus’ skills as an occlumens to slam his barriers in place against the emotions that threatened to overcome him.

Because he did actually feel like laughing.

“Good Lord, Harry, what happened?”

Harry’s face, particularly his jawline, was some sort of horrifying patch up of nicks, cuts, and the type of shadow-like facial hair that only teenage boys are able to make look so ridiculous.

“I tried to shave,” Harry said, his cheeks flushing and his eyes averted to the wall over Severus’ shoulder. “I wanted to look nice for tomorrow. And I fucked up.”

It did look quite fucked up.

He does not even know how to shave, and has his head on a chopping block with an axe waiting to drop.

It was tragic.

“I see.” Severus remained standing as he inspected Harry’s face. “Did you do this with a razor?”

“Magic.”

“You attempted to shave your face with magic?”

Idiot boy.

“Come along,” Severus said. “I will show you.”

Severus took his time as he taught Harry to shave the small amount of scruff he had on his face.

“Heal your battle wounds first,” he said. Once Harry’s face was no longer covered in small nicks and cuts, Severus grabbed supplies from his restroom cabinet.

He showed Harry the proper way to prepare and lather his face, and gave him one of his unused razors to use.

“While you refuse to use proper spells, your magic is unpredictable and dangerous,” Severus said as he demonstrated the proper way to shave in the mirror. “There are spells to accomplish this, but just as a scourgify does not give you the same feeling as a shower, neither do those spells. I can show them to you another time, if you would like.”

“Alright,” Harry said. He stepped up beside Severus and began mimicking his actions. “Like this?”

“Tilt your chin, so that you do not cut the skin. Excellent,” Severus gave him a nod of approval as Harry began shaving effortlessly. “Do you already have dress clothes for the event tomorrow?”

“Yup.” Harry kept his eyes on his face in the mirror as he worked. “You’re coming, right?”

Severus did not laugh, though it was close. “I am not,” he said. “I do not believe I was invited.”

“Course you were,” Harry muttered as he furrowed his brows and moved along his jawline. “Lupin said he invited you when you brought the potions?”

Severus racked his memory for what Lupin would be referring to before he recalled his parting remark;

‘We’d love to have you come next week,’ he had said. ‘If it isn’t a bother.’

And since it had been, Severus had curled his lip before flooing back to Invisibility Way.

“Perhaps he did,” Severus allowed. “Though I will not be attending regardless.”

“What do I do now? Just wash my face?” Harry asked as he inspected his clean face closely. “And Tonks is coming.”

“Wash and apply aftershave,” Severus said, pushing a bottle towards Harry. “It will prevent irritation. Nymphadora is an adult perfectly capable of attending a wedding on her own.”

“Ta.” Harry washed then patted his face dry. “I’m going to be in the wedding,” he said casually. He gave Severus a sideways look in the mirror. “So... so you should come. Did I tell you I’m best man?”

“Nearly sixteen times now,” Severus said with an actual chuckle. “It does nothing to increase my desire to attend their wedding.”

“Hmm.” Harry hummed as he liberally applied the aftershave to his face. “Did I tell you I’m wearing a bow tie? And you should come because I’m going to be in the wedding, as the best man, wearing a bow tie?”

Severus sighed in an actually put upon way as he looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

He truly was a terrible parent.

Harry had an uncanny knack in convincing him to commit the most atrocious acts.

“What time shall I arrive?”

Severus was unsure how Black and Lupin’s desire to wed somehow led to his home devolving in to absolute chaos, yet somehow it had.

Another grudge to hold against them, he supposed.

Severus sat in the sitting room with Mister Longbottom as the other occupants of the house ran around madly.

Narcissa was dashing around, entirely in her element, as she did hair and makeup for Granger, Bones, and Lovegood.

Ronald kept being called as his various brothers kept appearing in the floo double checking the time of the wedding.

Severus could hear Draco yelling about dress robes from downstairs.

All five elves were just as energetic as they rushed around, quite pleased to help the others prepare.

“I’m starting to think weddings are a bit more work than I thought,” Longbottom muttered to himself as Theodore was heard shouting at Harry for something.

Severus snorted despite himself, “Quite so, Mister Longbottom.”

The boy gave Severus a startled look, as if forgetting who he was sharing a calm cup of tea with. “Er... right.”

Severus was unable to finish a single glass of tea before Harry came rushing in the room, half-dressed and frantic.

“Sev! Theo is being a dick and won’t help me, can you tie this?” Harry thrust a scrap of black fabric in Severus’ face.

“What..?” Severus held the fabric up and held back a grin, certain it would be unappreciated (and may actually terrify Longbottom). “Come here, brat.”

Harry held his face up as Severus looped the tie around his neck, beneath the collar of his shirt and carefully tied it.

“Is that too tight?” he asked.

“Nope.” Harry pulled lightly on the side of the bow tie and stepped back to give Severus his artfully perfected cheerful smile as he held his arms out to his sides. “How do I look?”

Severus swallowed down his emotions and occluded very quickly before responding. “Charming,” he said.

Harry was quite charming in his dress clothes and his socked feet as he stood there, but he also looked terribly young with his bright green eyes and messy hair.

“Thanks, Sev,” Harry grinned more genuinely. “I should go find shoes and my robes. I’m supposed to be there before everyone else since I’m—”

“The best man,” Severus and Longbottom said, unintentionally simultaneously.

“We are quite aware,” Severus sighed. “Go on.”

Severus sank back in to his seat as Harry dashed away once more.

“And I’m definitely not having Harry be the best man if I ever get married,” Longbottom said with a quiet laugh. “Merlin.”

Severus inclined his head slightly, once more in agreement with the boy.

Severus was fulfilling the role of unwilling photographer for Harry’s friends, at Harry’s firm request before leaving to ‘do best man stuff,’ when the floo flared to life and someone, undoubtedly another Weasley, stepped out of it.

“Damn.” Susan Bones whistled as she posed for a photo with Granger and Lovegood in their matching dresses. “You look amazing, Tonks.”

Severus mentally counted to five in his head before he turned and looked at Nymphadora. Who, admittedly, did look quite nice in her dark amethyst dress and her high-heeled black boots.

Perhaps a touch more than ‘quite nice’, but she also looked youthful and full of joy, which put her quite out of Severus’ reach.

“Ta,” Nymphadora said with a bright smile as she stepped closer to the group. “You all look great. I wish I could do makeup like that when I was your age.”

“Mrs Malfoy did it,” Lovegood said with a shy smile towards Narcissa. “She’s a genius.”

“You flatter me, Luna,” Narcissa said warmly from her spot on the sofa. “A light hand is all that is needed. Luckily you girls already have such natural beauty that it is simple to highlight your features.”

Theodore scoffed, though he covered it quickly with a cough when Granger lifted her brows at him.

“What?” he asked with an air of innocence. “I tell you all the time you don’t need makeup.”

Severus had never imagined his life devolving to involve any scenario where he was taking photographs for a child while other children began bickering over cosmetics.

God damned Harry Potter.

“Here.” Severus carefully tossed Harry’s camera to Bones and stepped away from the children. “If Harry needs more photographs, he is welcome to come take them himself.”

“We should bring it with and take pictures there,” George Weasley said after checking his watch. “If we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late and little Harry is going to kill us all.”

“He’s not little,” Frederick protested, jumping to his ‘fiancé’s’ defense.

An utterly ridiculous term to use for a sixteen year old.

“Fred’s only saying that because they’re engaged,” Draco said with a sly smirk.

“Engaged?” Nymphadora yelped. Her eyes were wide when she turned to Severus, “Engaged? Harry and Fred?”

“Yes,” Severus said simply as the others began flooing in pairs to Moon Lodge. “Frederick asked him on his birthday, Harry said yes. Thus, engaged.”

“But...” Nymphadora bit down on her lower lip and remained silent as she waited for the sitting room to completely empty. “But, how?”

Severus hardly needed to read her mind to understand her question.

“Would you have told him no?” Severus asked imploringly. “Could you have, Nymphadora? I cannot tell him, ‘don’t make plans for the future because you might not have one’, can I?”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “It’s just... just he needs to be told soon, doesn’t he? You don’t want him to find out from someone else first.”

Severus sighed at the truth in her words. Harry needed to be told, but...

“Not today,” he said. “The brat is having a relatively good day.”

“Soon though?”

“Soon.”

Nymphadora gave him a crooked smile and offered her arm out for Severus to take. “Shall we then?” she asked.

Severus accepted her arm with another wry look. “You should find a more suitable person to focus your stubborn attention on.”

Nymphadora laughed as she stepped in to the floo with him. “Nothing like a challenge.”

By the time Severus was able to take a seat in the rows of white chairs adorned with simple golden ribbons, the mutt and wolf were the least of his concerns with attending.

It seemed as if Lupin’s pack have come to regard Severus as some type of ‘hero’.

In the chaos that fell after the battle, Severus had quite forgotten that a young woman, Sky Monty, had called him her hero.

Merlin.

“What’s wrong, Sev?” Nymphadora murmured from her seat beside him. “Not used to being called ‘such a great man’?”

He was not, actually. It was discomfiting and terribly awkward, both emotions Severus was unused to experiencing.

Severus glanced at the woman with the infant on her lap who had said those exact words and considered revoking his offer to brew the wolfsbane potion for them.

“Had I known that I would be accosted upon my arrival, I never would have let Harry blackmail me in to attending,” he said back.

“Harry? Blackmail? That doesn’t sound like your son,” Minerva clicked her tongue as she took a seat on Severus’ other side. “I hope this blackmail involved you returning to Hogwarts, Severus. I am rather displeased with you.”

“Now Minerva, I seem to have gained a crowd of admirers, it would be a shame if I were to inform them of your displeasure,” Severus murmured with a smirk.

A personal army of werewolves, the idea carried merit.

Severus was lost in a fantasy regarding setting the wolves loose on his enemies when one of those enemies stepped up on the platform in front of the guests, Harry by his side.

“Oh, well Harry looks nice,” Minerva sighed. “He’s become quite the young man, hasn’t he Severus?”

Severus eyed his son and nodded curtly, unable to respond aloud lest his emotions wreck havoc on his vocal chords.

Harry stood beside his godfather in a white dress shirt, black dress trousers and robes, and his ridiculously beloved black bow tie around his neck.

And Severus was experiencing a pain so sharp that he had to use all of his concentration to ensure his face did not crumple.

How could the world be so unbearably cruel?

As Harry stood beside Black, dressed in his formal wear, it was only too easy to see how Harry would look as a man one day. As graceful in his body as Lily, as outwardly confident as Potter Senior. Eyes filled with joy, and shoulders broad enough to carry reasonable loads on.

And Severus alone knew that he would never get the opportunity to fully become the man that he could be.

No.

Severus’ thoughts were grounded by a firm squeeze of his hand that caused him to glance over at Nymphadora, whose eyes reflected the grief that Severus was attempting to bury.

Severus and Nymphadora alone knew that despite the ring Harry wore proudly on his left hand, it was for naught.

“We’ll figure it out,” Nymphadora whispered in his ear with the stubborn lilt to her tone that Severus has grown accustomed to hearing. “There has to be something.”

Severus lifted his chin, pretending to be convinced.

He kept his eyes on Harry throughout the ceremony though- Merlin only knew if he would have an opportunity to witness Harry on such an occasion again.

Nymphadora snickered when Harry nearly dropped the ring in his haste to hand it to Black when asked for it.

“Ah, that looks more like the Harry we know,” Minerva whispered when Harry’s green eyes sought out Nymphadora’s and he glowered at her for her laugh. “Oh.” Minerva inhaled sharply. She tilted her head towards Severus and whispered quietly to him. “He does look like Lily without his glasses, doesn’t he? How do you stand it Severus?”

Severus lifted a shoulder silently.

It had been ages since Severus looked at Harry and saw Lily Potter’s eyes.

“He looks as he always has, like himself,” Severus responded in a thick whisper.

He looked like a young man. A young man who Severus would give his own life to save.

A young man who caused a true laugh to ripple through the guests as he pointedly looked away when Black and Lupin sealed their matrimony with a kiss.

A young man whose life could not be saved by the sacrifice of a parent twice.

Despite Severus’ many unheard prayers that it could be.

***

“Leave me alone, you cretin.”

Severus swiped at Harry’s owl as it flew around his head, pulling at his hair with its talons.

“Sevvie, leave Sev alone,” Harry cooed at the mad beast. “He’s just a git until he gets his caffeine, isn’t he?”

‘Sevvie’ hooted and took one last yank of Severus’ hair before flying to Harry and landing docilely on his shoulder.

“I knew I should have boiled you for ingredients,” Severus scowled at the owl. “Terror.”

“Ignore him,” Harry said as he stroked the owl. “He doesn’t mean it buddy, you’re perfect, aren’t you Sevvie?”

Severus muttered under his breath about impertinent owls and their lackadaisical owners as he unfolded the paper the little black furball brought him.

“For the love of God...” Severus scowled and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation at the top headline. He knew it was coming, though it did not make the prospect of the upcoming year any less daunting.

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE REINSTATED AS HOGWARTS HEADMASTER AMIDST PANIC OVER YOU-KNOW-WHO

Severus read the article and saw precisely what he expected to:

The witches and wizards of the Hogwarts School Board of Governors were distressed over sending the children to Hogwarts without Albus’ presence as he was widely hailed as the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared.

And, to add insult to injury, Albus was quoted on the battle in May:

’I have stuck firm to my belief that Voldemort has once more returned. This was proven by his attack in Hogsmeade. He will need stopped.’

“Albus has been reinstated,” Severus said flatly as he slid the paper to Harry. “There’s a delightful comment in there, regarding Albus’ steadfast belief that the Dark Lord was back all along.”

Harry’s face flashed with anger for a moment before he ground his back teeth and snatched the paper.

“Oh I’m going to fucking ruin him,” Harry snarled as he read the article. “Just- fucking ruin him.”

Severus smirked over his cup of coffee as Harry summoned a quill and parchment. Whatever scheme Harry was plotting to ‘fucking ruin’ Albus Dumbledore was certainly fine with Severus.

It couldn’t happen to a more worthy wizard.

***

Severus,
I would like to speak with you about the upcoming school year. I understand that you must have quite a bit on your plate that is causing you to feel as if your time would be best served elsewhere. However, if it suits you, I believe I have a compromise for your resignation if you are interested. Please floo me at your earliest convenience.
Yours,
-Albus

Chapter Text

September 1st

“I wish I could go with you,” Fred murmured. He ran his hand through Harry’s hair, messing up the carefully styled look Harry had achieved that morning.

“Me too,” Harry said truthfully. “I’ll see you in a few weeks though, right? In Hogsmeade?”

“Not even Timmy himself could keep me away,” Fred grinned carelessly, as if that wasn’t the specific worry Harry had.

The train behind Harry blared it’s horn, sending the students on the platform in to a frenzy.

“Don’t forget to call me and tell me about the duels tonight.” Fred pulled Harry closer and wrapped his arms around him. “Be a shame if we didn’t use Sirius’ gift to talk blood and torture, wouldn’t it?”

Harry squeezed Fred, trying to force his magic inside of him to keep him safe. He knew he couldn’t just ‘will the impossible’, according to Snape, but he still thought safety, safety, safety, while he hugged him.

“I’ll call you tonight,” Harry agreed as he reluctantly pulled back. “I don’t think that’s what the mirrors were meant for though.”

“Who cares?” Fred cupped Harry’s cheek and ducked his head to kiss him softly. “I love you, Harry, be careful alright?”

“You be careful,” Harry said. “And don’t fuckin flirt with that assistant of yours.”

“Verity?” Fred laughed and kissed the top of Harry’s head fondly. “Harry, darlin, you might have missed it with all our snogging and cuddling and that ring on your finger, but I’m gay.”

Harry snorted at Fred’s earnest tone and looked up at him. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you.”

The Hogwarts Express train blared its horn once more, signaling its impending departure.

“Don’t die you prat,” Harry yelled over his shoulder as he jogged to the platform to board the train.

“You’re supposed to say ‘I love you’,” Fred yelled back at him.

Harry leaned out of the doorway of the train, raising a brow quizzically at Fred. “Isn’t that what I said?”

He listened to Fred’s laugh and watched his smile and wave as the train began its journey to Hogwarts.

Its journey away from Fred.

Harry’s shoulders slumped a little as he stepped in to the corridor to go find his compartment. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten attached to someone so strongly.

Who was he going to sleep with at night?

Luna probably wouldn’t, since Draco was a jealous git. And even though Susan spent quite a bit of time in the wrong bed last year, he didn’t know if she would sleep with him either.

Harry hated sleeping alone.

Harry threw open the door for the compartment he’s shared every year with his friends and immediately threw himself across Ron and Draco on the bench nearest the door.

“You cannot already be depressed,” Draco sighed as he awkwardly patted the head on his lap. “It’s been five minutes.”

“Two,” Ron corrected Draco. “And it’s just Fred, mate, he’s not really that great.”

“This is the worst day of my life,” Harry groaned, feeling pretty dramatic honestly. He could see why Draco was such a fan. “Can I die from this? Can a terrible day actually do me in?”

“We all wish it was that easy,” Blaise drawled from the bench opposite them. “Imagine if Timmy could just hide your broomstick and your treacle tart and you’d fall over dead at his feet.”

Harry gave another deeply dramatic groan as his friends laughed. He looked around until he saw Trent folded up on the floor next to Luna. “Don’t date someone older than you, it’s miserable.”

“Noted,” Trent said seriously. “You don’t usually look very miserable.”

Harry snorted and moved his head around on Draco’s legs until his knees weren’t jamming in his head anymore. “Wake me up when the prefects get back, yeah?”

“As if you’re going to sleep,” Draco scoffed. He did start messing with Harry’s hair though, smoothing it down in an incredibly relaxing way. That, along with the rocking motion of the train, did actually make Harry feel tired enough that he might sleep.

Harry lurched off Draco and Ron and nearly hit the floor of the train as the compartment door was thrown open with a harsh bang. He bounced off the floor and had his knife pointed directly at—

Susan.

“Wha— Jesus,” Harry shook his head at Susan who was standing there with a grin as if she knew precisely what she was doing. “You’re the worst.”

“Aah, this brings back such fond memories,” Susan laughed as she pushed Blaise’s legs off the bench so she can sit. “All we need now is for you to piss off the trolley lady and it’ll be first year all over again.”

“There’s a lot more of us now,” Neville pointed out. “And Harry’s using a knife instead of his wand.”

“That’s because he doesn’t know where his wand is,” Theo said. He and Hermione sat down next to Ron and accepted a snack from Trent with appreciative nods. “You lot seen the new potion Professor yet?”

“Is he on the train?” Ron asked. “They don’t usually ride the train, do they?”

“Lupin did,” Neville reminded him.

“He’s here,” Theo told them. “He stopped us in the corridor and asked if we were really friends with Harry Potter or not.”

“What’d you say?” Blaise asked him, a grin already forming.

“I told him no,” Theo said. “Then someone,” he looked at Hermione with fond exasperation, “said we are.”

“If I don’t meet the new potions professor, then does he even exist?” Harry scowled as he sat on the floor.

Hermione laughed, “Aah, yes, Schrodinger’s Potions Professor.”

Harry had no idea what that meant, so he just shrugged. He was still pretty put out with Snape for giving up part of his position to ‘Horace Slughorn’, but having Snape at the castle at all was a boon so Harry tried to not complain too much.

“I’m very disappointed that Professor Snape won’t be teaching us,” Luna said sadly, echoing Harry’s thoughts. “He’s a genius and we’re lucky to learn from him.”

“I still get him,” Trent said. And he sounded smug, which, as his godbrother, Harry wouldn’t stand for. So Harry sent a small bit of magic at him which caused Trent to yelp then scowl.

“You’re the worst,” Trent said. “Go back to having a tantrum, will you?”

“Why were you having a tantrum?” Susan asked. “Were you—”

Susan was cut off by the compartment door opening, and since Harry knew all of his friends were already inside, he went ahead and pointed his knife in the intruders face.

Theo, Luna, Draco, and Susan all also had their wands out, much to Trent’s bemusement.

“I...” There was a kid standing in the doorway, with thick blonde hair and terrified blue eyes. “I was told to c-come give a message to Harry Potter, Theodore Nott, Susan Bones, Blaise Zabini, and Neville Longbottom?”

“What kind of message, Dennis?” Neville asked kindly.

Harry had no idea how Neville and Susan knew the names of all the students in Hogwarts. He also wasn’t sure why they bothered, Harry only remembered the names of people he liked or people he hated, the rest he was indifferent to.

Dennis was still warily eyeing Harry’s knife, but his shoulders relaxed as the others lowered their wands. “From Professor Slughorn, he wants to know if you guys want to have tea in his compartment with him.”

“No. Goodbye,” Harry said coolly.

Dennis’ eyes widened more in face of Harry’s refusal, but he glanced at Neville and stuttered out a compartment number before turning around and running off quickly.

“Why does he want to have tea with us?” Neville asked incredulously.

“Auntie said Slughorn has a club of his favorite students,” Susan said with a faux-haughty tone. “Anyone who’s anyone gets invited.”

Harry, who was debating on just going back to sleep, perked up. “What?”

“I’m definitely going then,” Blaise said as he stretched his legs out with a lazy grin. “Can’t afford to miss out on meeting important classmates, can I?”

“How rude,” Draco sneered. “Luna and I are important as well.”

“We don’t have famous names though,” Luna said consolingly with a gently pat of Draco’s leg.

“I don’t either?” Theo said with a confused scrunch of his nose.

“You moved in with Harry Potter, you— oh for God’s sake, are you really going?”

“Yep.” Harry smiled at Hermione and got to his feet to smooth down his clothes. “Anyone who’s anyone, Mione, why wouldn’t I?”

“You’re an insufferable ponce,” Susan said with a toss of her hair. “Let’s go.”

After a few minutes of arguing, Harry convinced Theo and Neville to go with them. Theo didn’t want to leave Hermione, and Neville just seemed uneasy about why he was being included.

Draco, of course, pouted the whole time. But, as Harry reminded him, it wasn’t his fault that Harry’s parents were dead war heroes and Draco’s dad was in prison.

Well.

It mostly wasn’t his fault that his dad was in prison.

Either way, Harry led the others to Slughorn’s compartment and promised to tell the others how it went when they got back. As they approached the compartment, Harry stuck his left hand in his pocket in a casual pose to keep a grip on his red penknife and let Susan knock on the door since his other arm was entwined with hers.

“Come in!” a jolly and deep voice called.

Susan and Harry exchanged one more look that shared more than any words could, before Susan slid the door open and their group stepped inside.

What the fuck?

Harry blinked around for a moment, caught by surprise by the rich furnishings and plush purple carpet of this compartment before he adopted his charming smile for the man seated at the head of a decent sized round table that was undoubtedly Professor Horace Slughorn.

“Hello, sir,” Harry said brightly.

Slughorn jumped to his feet, which seemed like quite a task. He was a bigger man, thick around the waist and cheek jowls that drooped down to his neck. He was dressed in a posh yellow suit with green robes, which should have looked ridiculous, but actually went together nicely. Slughorn smiled at Harry’s group and stuck his hand out to Harry at once. Harry glanced down at it and felt a bit of relief when Susan reached across him and took it in his place.

Slughorn didn’t look put out by it at all, he had the look of a man who was suspiciously optimistic.

Harry could never trust people so constantly cheerful or optimistic.

Either they were constantly manic, or they never struggled with anything in their lives. Both of which would be horribly unfair and pissed Harry off to think about.

“Professor Horace Slughorn,” Slughorn said cheerfully as he took turns accepting handshakes from Harry’s other friends. “And let me guess, green eyes like that, must be Harry, Lily’s boy!”

Harry had to work very hard to make sure his surprise didn’t cause his expression to slip. Aside from Snape, nobody ever really considered his mum when they met him. He heard a lot of comparisons to his dad, but not much to his mum.

Probably the contacts.

Harry loved them.

“Yes sir,” Harry said with a more genuine smile. He relaxed his fingers, one by one, until his grip on his knife was loosened. “This is—,”

“Oh don’t tell me!” Slughorn cried with a smile. “This beauty has to be Amelia’s niece, Susan?”

“Yes, sir, that’s me,” Susan said with her own polite and charming smile.

“And this must be Frank’s son, Augusta’s grandson, Neville?”

Neville’s voice was soft, hesitant, when he responded. “Yes sir.”

“Hmm...” Slughorn tapped his chin for a moment as he considered Blaise, but Harry thought it was probably just for show. “Mister Zabini, I’d say. You look quite a bit like your mother as well!”

“Thank you sir,” Blaise said with a perfect smile. “I’ll tell mother you’ve said so.”

Blaise didn’t look like the Contessa much at all, in Harry’s opinion. His skin was much darker, his hair courser, but he supposed they both had the same sharp cheekbones and golden colored eyes.

Harry privately thought that the Contessa was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, and also the most terrifying.

Which only made her more beautiful.

Harry’s classmates must think Blaise is plenty good-looking though, as infrequently as he sleeps in his own bed.

“And Theo of course!” Slughorn winked at Theo. “You scoundrel, tried telling me you weren’t friends with Harry here when I know for a fact that the two of you might as well be brothers!”

Theo grimaced a bit, but inclined his head in silent acknowledgment.

And Harry realized that they all got invites because Slughorn either knew or liked their relatives, dead or not apparently.

Susan’s aunt, head of the DMLE. Neville’s parents, both famous aurors before they were cursed, and his grandmother was a constant voice in Wizengamot meetings. Blaise’s mother was a famous witch who carried a lot of foreign power and was the majority holder of shares in most major wixen media’s. Theo apparently got an invite because he was Harry’s brother. And Harry wasn’t sure, not yet, but it seemed like Slughorn must have liked his mum quite a bit.

“Have a seat!” Slughorn said, waving his hand around the half-filled table as he sank back in to his chair. “I’m sure you all know each other, hmm?”

Harry actually didn’t recognize any of the other four at the table, except for Ginny Weasley who he gave a less charming and more sharp smile to.

There was also a seventh year Gryffindor at the table, maybe someone Harry played in quidditch before? He looked vaguely familiar. And a boy with a Ravenclaw tie on that Harry definitely didn’t know.

Since none of Harry’s friends said anything as they took their seats, Slughorn waved his wand and began floating plates around to them all.

“I’ll just do introductions, shall I?” he said with a deep chuckle. He turned to the Ravenclaw boy, who was at his right hand side, and gave him a smile. “This is Marcus Belby, his uncle is Damocoles Belby, he invented the wolfsbane potion you know.”

Belby opened his mouth, but Harry’s light scoff cut him off.

“Snape revolutionized it though, didn’t he?” Harry asked Belby with a mocking grin.

Slughorn laughed and pointed at Harry with a thick finger with a gold ring on it. “You’re right Harry! You’re right! Severus did revolutionize the potion! You’ll have to remind Damocoles of that next time you see him, hmm Marcus?”

“Oh.” Belby’s cheeks pinked as Slughorn turned expectantly to him. “I don’t see much of him, actually. My father doesn’t get along with him, I haven’t seen him since I was a baby.”

“Is that so?” Slughorn asked. And Harry could see as he mentally wrote off Belby. He turned to the Gryffindor boy and winked at him. “Now, I happen to know that you see quite a bit of your uncle Tiberius, don’t you Cormac?”

Aah.

Cormac McLaggen. Gryffindor keeper.

Nearly as good at keeping as Harry is.

“Yes sir,” McLaggen said in a posh tone that made Harry immediately decide to dislike him. “My parents and I had dinner with him and Rufus Scrimgeour over the summer.”

“You know Rufus too?” Slughorn cried, clearly delighted. “You know, I never saw him as Head Auror, but I’ve heard he’s doing a fine job at it.”

Harry held back another scoff. According to Johnny and Tonks, at their last meeting, Scrimgeour was ‘ruthless’, which is probably all the qualifications he needed to be head auror.

Slughorn turned to Ginny next and winked at her. “And this young lady, is Miss Ginny Weasley, I daresay you know Harry and his friends, don’t you?”

“Unfortunately,” Ginny said with a roll of her eyes and a flick of her hair.

“Ginny’s my future sister-in-law, right Gin?” Harry smirked as he carefully laid his left hand on the table top next to the plate of pastries he was ignoring.

“Oh!” Slughorn spotted Harry’s ring and his whole face lit up. “My goodness! Miss Weasley! You didn’t tell me that!”

“I try not to think about it,” Ginny said through clenched teeth.

Slughorn ignored her as he turned to Harry and his friends though. “I’m surprised I didn’t read about that in the prophet!” he said. “As much as you all are in it, you’d think they’d include an article on Harry Potter’s engagement! Now, let me think... if Miss Weasley here isn’t your mystery beau, which Weasley girl is it? I didn’t know Molly had more than the one daughter.”

“She doesn’t,” Harry said with a shrug. “It’s Fred Weasley. Ginny’s older brother.”

Slughorn blinked for a moment, clearly taken aback, and Harry took note of the twitch of disapproval on McLaggen’s face—

a twitch he would absolutely be looking in to at a later date.

—then Slughorn broke out in to a wide smile and raised his goblet towards Harry. “Wonderful!” he said, sounding as if he actually meant it. “Now, I’ve always said that a wizards sexuality said a lot about them. Dumbledore himself was partial to men, you know.”

Harry caught Blaise’s eyes and raised a subtle brow. He did not know that.

But he would write to Rita tonight and let her know, it might help her current mission Harry was paying her for:

‘Operation: Fucking Ruin Dumbledore’.

He had high hopes for it, especially since Rita had been so excited for an excuse to go out and dig up as much dirt on the man as she could.

“I read that Fred Weasley was with you back in May, and then of course the piece on his new business,” Slughorn said, missing Harry and his friends small smirks. “I can’t believe I didn’t know that was your Weasley.”

“I asked Rita not to publish about us,” Harry said casually. “No need to put a bigger target on Fred’s back because of me, is there?”

“Just like your mother!” Slughorn chuckled. “She was very protective of her friends as well! I dare say you already know that though, since her and Severus were so close. Hardly saw one without the other in their first few years of school.”

Harry smiled politely as Slughorn prattled on about his mum for a few minutes before he switched to Snape. He was relieved when Slughorn finally turned to Susan and Neville and began grilling them on the battle in May. Neville didn’t share many details, but Susan was all too happy to show off her new arm and discuss her duel with Bellatrix.

“I never liked that girl,” Slughorn said with a flash of his eyes when Susan was done talking. “She was always a cruel girl. I admit I was relieved to read about her death. The papers said it was bullet holes in her, can you believe that?”

Susan, Neville, Theo, and Blaise all shared a look before carefully not looking at Harry. It was a look that Slughorn actually did notice, and he turned to look at Harry curiously.

“I think it’s ironic,” Harry shrugged carelessly. “Imagine thinking your so much better than others because of blood-status and it’s a muggle weapon that ends you life.”

Ginny coughed something that sounded like ‘murderer’, and Susan glared at her.

”You’re awfully brave, aren’t you Ginevra?” Susan said in a tone that sounded like a compliment, but definitely wasn’t.

”Bite me,” Ginny said just as sweetly.

”We’ll leave that to Finnigan,” Harry laughed with a wink to Slughorn when Ginny’s ears turned just as red as her hair.

Slughorn stared at Harry for a long moment before he laughed as well.

“You and I are going to get along just fine, aren’t we Harry?”

Harry kind of doubted it, but he smiled and played along anyway.

By the time they left Slughorn’s compartment to go get changed for their arrival at Hogwarts, Harry was actually positive that he and Slughorn wouldn’t be getting along.

“Thank God I dropped potions,” Harry sighed as he grabbed his robes out of his bag and slid them on top of his other clothes. “Imagine dealing with him all year.”

Slughorn obviously fawned on Harry, but it was hard to keep up his charming and polite persona for so long.

“Some of us aren’t so lucky,” Theo grumbled. “Hermione, Draco, and I are all stuck with him.”

“I wish I was taking potions,” Ron said morosely, which caught Harry entirely by surprise.

“Why?? You hate potions?”

Ron’s cheeks flared up a bright red and he began sputtering about ‘changing his mind’, which was an obvious lie, but since the train was pulling in the station and the others were rushing out, Harry didn’t have a chance to grill him on it.

Hermione, Theo, and Susan went scrambling out of the compartment to round up the first-years and direct them to their boats, so Harry and the others split up and claimed a couple carriages to get up to the castle.

“Harry... Luna... what are you doing?” Trent asked incredulously while Harry and Luna paused to pet the thestral in front of their carriage.

“Are you taking Care of Magical Creatures?” Harry asked him.

“Yeaaaah.”

“Guess you’ll find out then,” Harry smirked. He gave the thestral a last pat before holding the carriage door open for Trent, Luna, and Draco. Ron, Blaise, and Neville took the one behind them with Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis.

Trent chatted about his electives coming up, he was taking Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes, apparently Sirius’ suggestion, with Luna and Draco while Harry watched the scenery flash by as they traveled up to the castle.

“Does this year feel different to you guys?” Harry blurted out when they were nearly to the castle.

Draco and Trent looked confused, but Luna hummed thoughtfully.

“It does,” she said softly. “We aren’t the same people who left last June, are we?”

Harry jerked his chin in a sort of nod of agreement, but he wasn’t sure that was the reason. When they unloaded from the carriage, Harry pulled his camera from his bag and took a photo of the castle.

He couldn’t explain why, when Draco asked him, but he just knew he wanted the photo. It was almost like... like this was his seventh year, instead of his sixth. Which was mad, because he’d get to see Hogwarts again next year.

... unless he didn’t.

Then he shook off his mad thoughts, probably a side-effect of all that happened in May and Fred being gone, and threw himself in to the conversation with his friends after they got seated at the Slytherin table. He nodded at the head table to Sirius and Snape and very pointedly ignored Dumbledore.

He hated that they reinstated him.

He hated that Timmy wasn’t scared enough of Harry for Harry’s presence in the castle to be a reassurance for the board.

He was pleased that neither Snape nor Sirius seemed to talk to Dumbledore at all though. McGonagall did, but she hadn’t been present when Dumbledore tried to actually kill Harry, so he could overlook that slight.

“I can’t believe they let him come back,” Neville muttered darkly as Dumbledore got to his feet after the sorting finished. “Bloody madman he is.”

“Cheers Nev,” Harry murmured.

“Welcome back!” Dumbledore cried through the hall with a smile and a look of happiness that pissed Harry off. “I cannot describe my joy at seeing so many of you here, safe and sound, and ready to begin a new year at Hogwarts!”

“Not everyone though,” Hermione said softly as she looked around the hall. Harry looked around too, but since he didn’t notice any missing faces he quirked a brow at Hermione.

“Eight students didn’t come back,” Hermione breathed as Dumbledore talked about banned items and the forbidden forest. “I heard a lot more parents were really hesitant to let their kids to come back as well, with all the death eater attacks over the summer and talk about Timmy.”

“That’s mad,” Ron whispered. “Hogwarts has got to be safer than their homes. Right?”

Harry and Susan both snorted simultaneously and caught a few looks from other Slytherin’s at their blatant dismissal of Dumbledore’s speech.

Harry figured if Dumbledore tried to kill him a few months ago, that some public disrespect was the least of the revenge Harry had planned.

He did listen, without appearing to listen as he levitated his fork and got in a mock duel with Blaise’s spoon, as Dumbledore began talking about staff changes.

“Due to the strenuous task expected of our potions Professor, we are trying something new this year,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “I am pleased to inform you that Professor Snape will still be teaching first through third year potions, along with retaining his head of house duties, while Professor Horace Slughorn will be returning to Hogwarts to teach our fourth through seventh years.”

Harry didn’t want to clap, because it would indicate that he was listening to Dumbledore, but he compromised by smiling up at Slughorn and Snape and looking only at them as he clapped along with the others.

“Why couldn’t Snape take our year?” Theo scowled.

Apparently he wasn’t a fan of being in Slughorn’s club due to Harry’s fame.

“He said he’s got a lot going on and the older students need more time because of our tests,” Harry said with his own small frown. Harry would have liked to have had Snape as a teacher again this year, but it wasn’t like he had to deal with Slughorn anyway. And he could still go burst in Snape’s office and his quarters whenever he wanted, so it wasn’t too big of a deal.

“What does he have going on?” Blaise asked curiously.

Harry rolled his eyes as he remembered what Snape finally told him a few days ago. “He took over Barty’s job,” he said in a soft whisper that his friends had to lean forward to hear. “He’s going to figure out how to kill Timmy.”

“Oh.” Hermione sat back up and nodded. “Well that’s definitely important. And...” she glanced up at the head table where Slughorn was now talking animatedly with Sprout. “He seems like he could be a good teacher.”

“I doubt it,” Draco said haughtily. “He seems like an idiot to me.”

Harry laughed and relaxed back in his seat as the dishes began popping up from the kitchens. “You’re just jealous Dray,” he grinned. “Want me to tell Slughorn you wanna be in his posh little club?”

“No I do not,” Draco said with his nose in the air.

“I do,” Trent piped up from his seat between Ron and Blaise. “I think it sounds fun.”

Harry blinked at Trent and shook his head.

“It’s not,” he said flatly.

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“It isn’t fun Trent.”

“Is too.”

Harry slammed his hand on the table and glared at Trent. “I hope someone challenges you to a duel tonight and...” Harry tried to remember Snape’s exact phrase he once used. “And they cut your impertinent tongue from your mouth.”

Trent stuck his tongue out at Harry. “No you don’t.”

“Do too.”

No. He didn’t.

Which is why it was a nasty fuckin surprise when the Slytherin’s were all gathered in their common room after Snape gave his usual spiel, followed by the rules for duels by the seventh year prefect, and Trent was immediately challenged.

“We challenge Trent Bailey.”

Harry’s eyes snapped through the crowd of Slytherin’s straight to where Crabbe and Goyle stood side-by-side.

Harry knew they were stupid, uninteresting, and about as bright as a cupboard, but he had no idea they were fucking suicidal as well.

“Absolutely fuckin not,” Harry snarled at them, the eyes of the other Slytherin’s on him now. “What possible reason would you have to challenge Trent?”

“We don’t have to explain to you,” Crabbe (was it Crabbe? Harry had never really bothered to get to know them that well.) grunted. “He’s a mudblood and we’re challenging him.”

Many of the students standing around sucked in shocked hisses at the word ‘mudblood’, they hadn’t spent the last five years living with Harry Potter and not discovered how he reacted to it.

Harry saw Trent stepping up beside him and pushed him back a bit more harshly than he meant. “He turns it down,” Harry said firmly. “Fuck off or duel me instead.”

“We was told—”

Goyle was cut off by by Crabbe’s foot stomping on his harshly.

“We want the mudblood,” Crabbe said with an inscrutable look at Goyle. “Does he accept or not?”

“I do,” Trent said. He stepped back up next to Harry and stuck his chin out stubbornly.

Harry put his arm in front of Trent’s chest, stopping him from going any further while he studied Crabbe and Goyle.

Why were they doing this?

What did they stand to gain by attacking Trent?

Everyone knew that he was one of Harry’s, even if he wasn’t officially in the gang.

Surely they hadn’t missed the fact that Harry had actually killed the last person who hurt his godbrother.

It was an open secret in Slytherin that Harry Potter killed Dolores Umbridge. Most of the students heard Harry threatening to do so the night before she died of heart failure. Nobody said it out loud, but they all knew it wasn’t a coincidence. Hell, a few of the students sent Harry actual thank you cards for it.

One girl sent him a box of chocolates.

Harry grit his teeth in the tense silence of the common room, studying the two standing across from him.

What was he missing?

It wasn’t until Harry’s unblinking gaze caused Goyle to twitch his right hand towards his left arm that the pieces clicked together in his head.

“Oh you’re fucking kidding me,” he breathed. Harry looked over his shoulder quickly, seeking out Theo to see if his keen eyes spotted what he did.

Theo caught his gaze and nodded curtly.

“Got a new tattoo there?” Harry sneered mockingly to Goyle. “C’mon then, let’s see it.”

“I’m not showing you nothin,” Goyle said with his own sneer, a look that just made him look constipated.

“Why not? Huh?” Harry took a step closer to the two of them and smiled in the face of their obvious unease. “Let’s see your left arm. Show the class what you did this summer, yeah?”

”Bloody hell,” Ron said with a shocked gasp. “You took the mark?”

“They took the mark while sharing a dorm with Harry?” Blaise muttered. “No sense of self-preservation there, hm?”

“They aren’t sharing our dorm anymore,” Draco sneered with true anger in his voice. “They can sleep in the bloody loo.”

“Are we dueling or not?” Crabbe asked, his jaw clenched and his face red as the other sixth year boys jeered at him.

“We are,” Trent said, refocusing Harry’s attention on his scrawny little stubborn prat of a godbrother.

“Trent, turn it down,” Harry said quietly. He turned slightly so Crabbe and Goyle couldn’t see his mouth, but so he could still see them out of the corner of his eye. “They’re working for Timmy- Voldemort,” he said when Trent looked unsure who Timmy was. “They were probably ordered to duel you, which means they could be aiming to kill.”

“So?” Trent asked. “I’ll aim to kill too.”

Harry looked Trent over from head to toe and had to bite his tongue to keep from insulting him.

Despite all the hours Harry put in to training him over the summer, he didn’t actually think Trent could kill a puppy, let alone incapacitate two nearly grown wizards looking to hurt him on Timmy’s behalf.

“I’ll buy you your own Firebolt to use in the summers if you turn it down,” Harry whispered. “C’mon Trent, don’t be stupid.”

“You’re not my boss, Harry,” Trent said with a grin. “I want to duel. But-” he looked up at Harry through his thick black lashes, “will you be my second?”

“Obviously,” Harry grit out. As if he was going to let anyone else do it. “A new Firebolt and an owl?”

“Nope.” Trent sidestepped Harry and narrowed his green eyes at Crabbe and Goyle. “I’m ready.”

“I’m his second and I’m going to kill you when he’s done,” Harry turned and told the duo with forced calm in his tone. “Every spell you cast on him- I’m going to take it out of your fucking blood. When this duel is over, I’m next.”

Harry didn’t think he was imagining the way that Goyle’s face paled in the candlelit room.

As it should.

Because Harry kind of doubted that two death eaters were going to lose a duel to Trent, but they sure as hell would to him.

Harry stepped back a bit and grabbed Trent’s elbow right before he stepped up to the empty circle the other students formed in the center of the room.

“Got your knife?” he murmured.

Trent’s hand patted his trouser pocket quickly before he nodded.

“Good.” Harry gave the other boys a cold look. “Stab them right in the fucking throat, got it?”

“Got it.”

Trent stepped in to the circle and squared his thin shoulders and Jesus Christ, he looked like a first-year compared to Crabbe and Goyle’s broad shoulders and thick necks.

Harry had a terribly unhelpful realization that he was pretty sure Goyle’s biceps were as thick as one of Trent’s legs.

The usual bets were silent. Not a soul even dared whisper as they watched with narrowed and disapproving eyes. This wasn’t a duel to showcase power, this was a direct attack against Potter through a child under his protection. None of the other students with dark affiliated families had even asked to join the Dark Lord, how could they? They had all seen for years that Potter had power they could only dream of wielding and showed no mercy to his enemies.

Even if they couldn’t formally ally themselves to Potter, taking the dark mark was a death sentence.

And attacking Potter Junior in front of Potter himself was a suicide mission, and they all knew it.

The air was heavy as the prefect erected the standard wards around the three duelers.

“Begin,” the seventh year prefect said flatly, as unimpressed as the others.

Harry watched through red-tinted eyes as Trent tried to strike first. He tried to disarm Crabbe and missed.

Because Trent was a shit dueler.

Harry jammed his hands in his pockets as he forced himself to watch as Crabbe and Goyle took turns in aiming hexes and curses at Trent.

He would rather close his eyes until it was over, but he needed to know what he owed them when it was his turn.

He meant what he said, they’d insulted Trent, called him dirty, and they targeted a kid for a fight their Master’s fight with Harry.

And he wasn’t going to just let that slide.

Harry’s shoulders tightened and he had to actually bite on his tongue as Trent yelled from a well-placed bone blasting hex.

Trent sent another spell at Goyle, a stunner this time, then jumped forward and stabbed Crabbe right in his left leg.

“Keep going,” Harry murmured as Crabbe staggered. But Trent just pulled his knife back out and jumped backwards, resuming his exhausting dance as he tried to dodge the incoming curses.

Harry was going to spend every weekend training Trent until that kid could kill an attacker with his eyes closed.

Trent would be decent in a knife fight against one person his own size, but when he lunged forward again and swiped his blade across Goyle’s neck, leaving a shallow cut, Goyle caught him with his heavy arm and knocked Trent flat on his back.

“Oh Harry’s going to kill them,” someone murmured in the absolute deathly silence of the common room when Goyle pointed his wand at Trent and yelled, ”Crucio!”

Harry nearly couldn’t bear to hear Trent’s screams. They were like knives directly in his eardrums.

Sharp.

Painful.

And they made Harry want to scream.

He didn’t. He watched with a mask of impassivity as Trent screamed for exactly eighty-one seconds.

And then he smiled as Goyle summoned Trent’s wand and the prefect quickly announced that the duel was over.

“Winners, Crabbe and Goyle,” he said.

Nobody was that stupid; Crabbe and Goyle might have shown that they could torture and disarm a thirteen year old boy, but they certainly didn’t ‘win’.

Because now it was Harry’s turn and he was going to make them regret every decision they’ve ever made.

Theo and Ron jumped forward immediately and picked Trent up from the ground. Harry looked him over as they pulled him to the exit, probably skipping the in-house healers and headed straight to Snape.

Which was smart.

Harry didn’t trust the seventh year students to heal his godbrother, but he did Snape.

Trent wasn’t bleeding anywhere, but his torso was bent awkwardly from where they had busted a rib with their hex and his eyes were bloodshot and his eyelashes were wet.

“Here,” Trent struggled in Theo’s grip and reached his hand out to Harry. Harry glanced down and saw Trent’s hand was covered Crabbe’s blood and his knife was still in his hand. “Kill them,” Trent said as Harry accepted the knife.

“I plan on it,” Harry said confidently.

Harry waited until Theo and Ron had Trent out of the common room before he turned his sharp smile on Crabbe and Goyle.

“Now I challenge you,” he said softly. “You never should have fucked with Trent.”

“And I’m his second,” Blaise drawled from behind Harry. “You boys might want to find one as well, someone for Harry to torture after he kills you.”

Harry wouldn’t have begrudged Crabbe and Goyle for getting a second, even in pairs it was pretty standard. But he forgot, it was volunteer only.

And not a soul volunteered.

“Pity,” Draco sneered as the silence stretched on. “Something for you to report to your Master anyway.”

“Yeah?” Goyle asked Draco hotly. “What about you, scum? You’re nothing but a dirty blood-traitor. Hanging out with mudbloods, no wonder your father disowned you.”

Harry curled his lip up, but Draco was sniping back before he could jump in.

“Oh yes, whatever shall I do without some disgusting tattoo marring my perfect blood-traitor skin?” Draco sighed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll have to be content with an inheritance from my mother’s family, my friendship with Harry Potter, and the knowledge that I’m not about to be murdered. Life is terribly hard as a ‘blood-traitor’.”

“Not as hard as their life is about to be,” Blaise laughed. “Come on boys, step up and duel Harry now. You knew it was coming, didn’t you? Call him a mudblood and a blood-traitor, I’m sure it will go swimmingly for you.”

A few of the Slytherin girls laughed at that, though they sounded nervous too.

“I’m done arguing,” Harry said. He twirled Trent’s knife between his fingers, sending droplets of blood to the marble floor. “Put up a dome and say begin,” he told the prefect.

“We don’t accept,” Crabbe blurted out before the prefect could raise his wand. Crabbe’s beady eyes were nervous now as he kept glancing at Goyle.

“You don’t accept?” Harry asked. He laughed, a cold mirthless laugh. “Too fucking bad,” he sneered. “You can accept the duel or you can fight me anyway, you fucking cowards.”

“No,” Goyle said. He stumbled backwards from Harry’s slow approach, a frantic movement that drew a laugh from the other students. “We can’t.”

“Oh but you can,” Harry smiled winningly. “I want you to, I’m sure the half-blood maniac you follow wants you to. Fight me.”

“We have- we have orders,” Crabbe said. He stretched his neck backwards away from Harry who was now nearly flush against him. “Not you.”

“Too bad.”

Harry flipped Trent’s knife in his hand and drove it right in to Crabbe’s groin, only inches away from ending the Crabbe line altogether.

“Fight me,” he hissed in Crabbe’s ear as he held him up from collapsing on the ground by the front of his robe. “Don’t you want to?”

“Leave him alone,” Goyle grunted. He stuck his arm out, as if to grab at Harry, before pulling it back and deepening his scowl. “We don’t wanna duel you.”

“Why not?” Blaise demanded from the crowd of onlookers. “You were perfectly content to attack a third year just a little bit ago.”

Harry dropped Crabbe to the ground and turned to Goyle. “You broke his rib, right?” Harry twitched his pinky at his side, break his bones.

Goyle bent over with a deep grunt of pain as Harry’s spell hit its mark and broke multiple ribs.

“D’you wanna fight me now?” he sneered in Goyle’s face, indifferent to the tears of pain welling in his eyes.

“No,” Goyle gasped. “Can’t.”

“FIGHT BACK YOU FUCKING COWARDS!” Harry screamed. He kicked Crabbe in his absolute rage and felt a swell of anger hit him so he kicked Crabbe over and over, “FUCKING- FIGHT- ME!”

‘Can’t’ was all that Crabbe would say.

And Harry had never been so furious and angry in his life.

Why would they attack Trent, but refuse to fight Harry?

Why did Timmy send his followers to torture Luna and tell her to have Harry join him?

“What is his fucking game?” Harry snarled as he kicked Crabbe one last time, causing the bones in his nose to crack and blood to spurt everywhere.

“They aren’t fighting back,” Blaise murmured from a safe distance behind where Harry had the two boys against the wall.

“Who cares?” Draco sneered. “They took Timmy’s mark, they can take Harry’s rage.”

Harry agreed with Draco.

He didn’t care if they weren’t fighting back against him or not, they attacked Trent and it was unforgivable.

They had no problem fighting then.

Hurt him, Harry ordered his magic with a careless gesture towards Goyle.

He counted, slowly, in his mind as Goyle’s screams bounced off the walls.

One... two... two and a half... three...

It wasn’t until Harry hit one hundred exactly that he ended the curse.

His face was cold as he studied Goyle and realized that he must have fallen unconscious at some point.

Not his problem.

He was lucky to be breathing.

“Tell me what he wants,” Harry whispered to Crabbe. He knelt down beside him and put his mouth right up to his ear. “Tell me.”

“You,” Crabbe said in a quiet gasp. “He wants you with him.”

Harry reared back in surprise.

That...

That didn’t make any sense.

But it was the same thing the death eaters told Luna, wasn’t it? Timmy wanted Harry to join him or he’d torture and eventually kill all his friends.

Harry thought that Timmy wanted him to turn himself in, sacrifice his life for his friends. But that didn’t sound like what this was. This sounded like...

Like Timmy wanted Harry to join him.

As partners?

Harry gave him his chance at partnership, he gave it to him in his first year when Timmy screamed that he had no equal.

He gave it to him again in his second year, but even teenage Timmy didn’t want to be partners.

So why now?

Why would Timmy want Harry to join him, partners or not, when he knew the prophecy said Harry was meant to kill him?

“Well he can’t have me, can he?”

He could have.

Harry would have joined him back when he was younger, before Timmy cut Snape open, before he killed Barty, tortured his friends, and possessed Harry to the point where he’d nearly went mad from it.

It was too late for partnership now.

Timmy had to die, and Harry was going to do it.

Simple.

Harry threw open the link between his mind and Timmy’s and called out to him.

Riddle me this, Timmy, what happens when a noseless dick sends two incompetent morons to hurt my godbrother?

Harry ripped Crabbe’s left shirtsleeve up and held his arm out. There were sounds of shock behind Harry as the dark mark that Harry had merely guessed at was put on full display for the other Slytherins.

“This is going to hurt,” Harry said mockingly. Then he drove Trent’s knife as far in to the top of the Dark Mark on his forearm as he could and drug it downwards, driving an ear splitting scream from Crabbe and entirely disfiguring his arm.

Keep fucking with my people and see what happens.

As soon as he did the same thing to Goyle, making sure to render the mark completely unrecognizable, Harry stood up and stepped away from them.

Harry curled his nose at the two useless lumps of scum on the floor in front of him. “If I see you even look at Trent again, I’ll cut your throat and deliver your body in pieces to Timmy.”

He kicked Crabbe one last time, for good measure, before turning to face the others.

“If anyone heals them or lets them sleep in your dorm, we’re going to have a problem,” Harry said flatly. His eyes searched out each and every student standing there and felt a spark of vindictive pleasure that they all looked like a proper mixture of terrified and awed. He grinned cockily and wiped the bloody knife off carelessly on his trousers before holding it up, “And if anyone else needs a tattoo removed, let me know. Otherwise, goodnight.”

The students silently shifted out of Harry’s way as he strode towards the exit, his chin held high and Crabbe and Goyle’s blood soaking his clothes.

He needed to go check on Trent.

He needed to let Snape know that there were actual death eaters in the castle.

He needed to move Crabbe and Goyle’s trunks to the common room and move Trent’s up to his dorm.

Then he needed to call Fred on his dad and Sirius’ old two-way mirrors and tell him about the duels, just he promised to do.

Sixth year was already exhausting.

Chapter Text

September 1

Severus did not even make it to his bed after the feast before Harry’s uncontainable chaos began.

“Professor! Professor!” Theodore was calling for him at the door to his private quarters. “Please! Wake up! It’s Trent!”

Severus got to his feet and made it to his door in three long strides. As soon as he opened the door, Ronald and Theodore pulled Trent Bailey in to his quarters and deposited him on a sofa.

“He’s hurt and we didn’t want to use the Slytherin healers,” Theodore said as a rushed explanation for why a bloody and injured boy was sitting on Severus’ sofa. “We figured either we’d bring him here now, or Harry would drag him here anyway.”

“I’m fine,” Bailey was protesting weakly. Severus ignored him in favor of casting a diagnostic spell and ordering Ronald to explain what happened.

Unlike Theodore, Ronald was an appalling liar, which made him Severus’ first choice for all explanations.

“Crabbe and Goyle challenged him, sir,” Ronald said immediately. “Broke his ribs and got him with a Crucio for over a minute.”

“Why?” Severus asked curiously as the boy’s diagnostic report matched Ronald’s story. It was not unheard of for older students to challenge younger ones on Slytherin’s dueling night, yet he could hardly imagine how anyone could find offense with Bailey. He summoned a nerve regeneration potion and a pain reliever and gave them to Bailey. “Drink these, then I will heal your breaks.”

“Thanks,” Bailey murmured, his cheeks red and his eyes wet.

“They wanted to mess with Harry,” Theodore said with a scowl twisting his features. “They called Trent a mudblood. Harry told them that he was going to kill them if they hurt Trent, but since Trent wouldn’t turn it down and they didn’t back down either...” Theodore shrugged, “Harry’s probably killing them right now.”

“Probably,” Severus agreed. He rolled the agitation out of his shoulders as he quickly debated with himself. He had a rule to not intervene in inner-house duels, as they were a right of passage of a sort to Slytherin’s, yet he could hardly allow Harry to start the school year off with a double homicide either.

“Mister Bailey, I am going to heal your breaks now,” Severus said, prioritizing quickly. “On your exhale, very good, brackium emendo.”

Bailey let out a quiet yelp as his bones shifted back together, then sighed in relief. “Thank you, Professor,” he said politely. Bailey got to his feet and stretched his arms over his head. “I feel right as rain now,” he smiled. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“It is no bother,” Severus said as he summoned his medical kit. “Come, I will walk you all back to your dorm.”

The boys obediently followed behind Severus, though they were stopped halfway there by Harry’s appearance.

Harry’s blood soaked appearance.

“Did you kill them?” Severus asked briskly.

“Dunno. I hope so.” Harry glanced around the empty corridor before he flicked his wrist and erected a privacy charm. “I definitely did remove a couple fuckin tattoos though. Thought you might wanna know.”

Tattoos.

Crabbe and Goyle.

Severus ground his teeth in anger.

It was not unheard of, Severus himself took the mark in his seventh year, Regulus in his sixth.

The Dark Lord was a fan of recruiting young.

And now Severus had two death eaters in his house. In his house with Harry Potter.

“Delightful,” Severus grit out. “Come along, I presume they are rather severely injured?”

“They better be,” Harry snarled as he turned back around and kept stride with Severus. “I told everyone not to heal them, didn’t I?”

Severus snorted. If Harry told the other Slytherin’s not to heal them, they likely did not.

“Are they all aware of the mark on the boys?” Severus asked as they approached the common room entrance.

“Yup. I cut their fuckin arms open in front of everyone.”

Severus was mentally creating Harry’s legal defense as they intoned the password and led the way in to the common room.

’You see, Harry did not intentionally murder two boys, he was merely trying to remove their unfortunate dark marks that rested atop several veins and arteries.’

Severus glanced at his ward and nodded his head slightly to himself.

This was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Never-Seemed-To-Have-Consequences-For-His-Actions.

It could work.

Severus was unsure if it was relief of not that he felt when he entered the common room and saw that Daphne Greengrass was seated on the floor in front of the lumps of bodies that the bloody puddle indicated was Crabbe and Goyle with a wand in her hand and a look of concentration on her face.

“Move,” Severus told Greengrass immediately. He knelt on the ground and flipped the boys so they were face-up and he could assess the damage.

Severus heard Harry hissing at Greengrass in Parsletongue behind him, an amusing outburst, though he ignored their spat as he diagnosed the boys.

He nearly laughed when he pulled Crabbe’s arm towards him and saw the neat rows of thick black stitches up and down his left forearm. “What did you cut him open with?” Severus called over his shoulder to Harry. Muggle stitches were such a rarity in the wixen world, he could not imagine why the typically intelligent Greengrass girl thought they were necessary. Severus summoned a blood replenisher from his medical kit and spelled it in Crabbe’s unconscious body.

“The same fuckin knife I’m going to cut Daphne open with,” Harry sneered quite hatefully.

“Don’t you threaten me, Harry Potter! I was keeping your impulsive Gryffindor arse from Azkaban! You should be thanking me!” Greengrass yelled at Harry.

“Why on earth did you use muggle stitches to treat their wounds?” Severus asked the girl as he looked Crabbe over for any other immediate threats to his life.

A few broken bones and stab wounds would not kill him and could possibly teach him the error of the path he has chosen. Either the idiot child could explain his injuries to Poppy, or he could suffer as they slowly healed. Either option was acceptable to Severus.

“So that disgusting mark couldn’t be fixed,” Greengrass said primly. “I didn’t want them to die, but I didn’t want them to be fully healed either. I used a spell to apply the stitches, it should scar terribly.”

“Good,” Harry and Severus said.

Severus had no room for impartiality when his child was actually being housed with marked death eaters.

...previously marked death eaters.

Harry did an admirable job at disfiguring the mark. Along with the stitches Greengrass applied, Severus could barely make out the ink on either of the two boys.

“Excellent work Miss Greengrass,” Severus said after he finished checking both boys over. “Ten points to Slytherin for not allowing Harry to go to prison tonight.”

“ONE HUNDRED POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN FOR NOT LETTING TWO PIECES OF GARBAGE DIE!” Harry yelled with a furious glare. “Whose next, Sev? Huh? Are they gonna try and kill Trent in the fuckin loo? What about Mione? Who knows what they’ve been ordered to do! DO YOU EVEN CARE?”

How dare he?

Severus stalked over to Harry, ignoring the way he quickly backed up to the wall, until they were essentially nose to nose. “You will remember that we are at school,” Severus hissed in his face, “where you are meant to show an iota of respect, Potter. I will handle this, and you will go to bed without adding another count of attempted murder to your ridiculously long list of crimes. Is that understood?”

“That’s b-bullshit,” Harry said in a hoarse whisper. “They’ll kill them.”

Severus took a swift step backwards, leaving a little over an arms length of distance between himself and Harry.

It was fortuitous that Harry’s long since overcome stutter returned in moments he was feeling incredibly fearful, nothing outside of those repeated syllables could have snapped Severus out of his anger so quickly.

Severus recently wondered if he was still Harry’s boggart, an idle thought he had at the end of the last school year after Harry faced the Dark Lord and was possessed before nearly being murdered by Albus.

Clearly he was.

Harry did not stutter when he fought the Dark Lord.

Severus flicked his wand at his side, driving a small flinch from Harry who was still defensively posed against the wall, and cast muffliato to ensure their privacy from the others still lingering in the room.

“I apologize,” Severus said, using the gentle tone he saves for atoning his mistakes to Harry. “I am furious, though not necessarily entirely at you. I should not have gotten in your face. You are, as you have always been, quite safe in my presence.”

“I know that,” Harry spat. Severus could see that Harry’s shoulders were still incredibly tense though, so he was unsure if he did know that or not.

And considering Severus just pinned him against a wall and hissed at him right in his face, it was not entirely unwarranted.

Even if Harry oftentimes brought out Severus’ worst anger.

“I care quite a bit about the safety of you and your fellow students,” Severus said calmly. “I am going to show you a ward, one that you will never show with any else due to its technical illegality. This will prevent anyone with a dark mark from entering your dorm. Then I am going straight to the Headmaster to inform him about Crabbe and Goyle and I will be lobbying to have them expelled. I cannot keep you from being legally punished for your attack if the boys are dead, hence why I rewarded Miss Greengrass the points. Do you understand?”

Harry’s jaw clenched from side to side as he stared Severus down. Severus held his gaze, waiting for him to understand that no matter what, the safety of his students was one of his top concerns as a professor.

At a bare minimum, keeping Harry and his misfits from being attacked in their sleep by death eaters was his second highest current concern.

The first, obviously, was finding a way for Harry to live to see thirty.

“I shouldn’t have screamed at you,” Harry finally said after several silent minutes. “That wasn’t on.”

“It was not,” Severus agreed, amused at Harry’s admission of wrongdoing without showing remorse for his actions. “We do seem capable of enraging each other quite frequently though, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed slowly with a small frown. “That’s kind of fucked up, when you think about it. I trust you the most, but I also yell and fight with you the most, don’t I?”

Severus’ lips curled up on one side of his mouth. “I choose to believe that it means in some part of your brain, you recognize that I am a person you can scream, curse, and hiss at without any true fear that I will sever our relationship.”

Harry’s eyes flickered over Severus’ shoulder to the students waiting for him and he bit his lower lip before shrugging briefly. “I’m not scared of you,” he said stoutly.

“Of course not,” Severus said with a teasing smirk. “Perhaps I should fear you, as I prefer to keep my arm intact.”

Harry glanced at Severus quickly and gave him a brief grin. “If we ward my dorm, you can’t get in it,” he said. “So... so what if we need you in the middle of the night?”

“Idiot,” Severus scoffed. “I am quite capable of removing the wards. Though, I assure you, I believe that I alone, and soon you as well, have the sole knowledge on placing and removing them. They are a creation from my own mind when I changed sides in the first war.”

Harry nodded slowly while he inched out of his defensive pose. “I’m moving Trent in to my dorm,” he said with a quick and stubborn glance at Severus from beneath his fringe. “‘Mudblood’, they called him.”

Severus looked behind himself towards the Bailey boy. He had likely been targeted more due to his age and size, rather than his blood status, but Severus had long since stopped caring where Harry’s friends slept.

“Acceptable,” Severus said evenly. “It is not as if you and your posse of misfits sleep in your assigned beds regardless. Come, let us finish up here quickly so I can go speak with the headmaster before he retires for the night.”

“‘Kay.”

Severus removed the muffling charm and turned to address the other students. “Greengrass, bed. Theodore, Ronald, assist Mister Bailey in moving his belongings to your dorm. He can take Crabbe or Goyle’s bed. Harry, with me.”

“What about them?” Ronald asked, jerking his thumb at the boys on the floor.

Severus barely hesitated before he stunned them, ensuring they did not wake soon, and levitated them to the sofas.

Better to act with an abundance of caution in a situation such as this.

“Albus will ultimately decide their fate,” Severus said.

And Albus did.

After Severus taught Harry how to erect the translucent ward for the sixth year dormitory doorway, Severus left the children in their dungeon dormitories and went to speak with Albus.

Who, perhaps he should have expected, did not react as Severus hoped he would.

Albus’ face was drawn and grave as Severus carefully told him how there was a fight between Crabbe, Goyle, and Bailey, regarding Bailey’s blood-status, and in the midst of the fight, Ronald Weasley discovered the marks on the boys’ arms and immediately informed Severus about them.

The less he mentioned Harry around Albus, the better for all of them.

Severus was not unaware that Albus’ offer to let him teach first through third years on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday had less to do with respecting Severus’ time and more to do with ensuring Harry remained at Hogwarts. Severus had bitten his tongue at the time and allowed Albus to apologize for his ‘brash actions’ last May and accepted the part-time teaching position gratefully as he was sure Harry would be quite pleased.

It did not hurt that although Severus would only teach three days a week, he was able to retain his full salary.

Once Severus finished his highly edited tale, Albus steepled his fingers together and appeared every bit of his 115 years.

“That is troubling,” Albus eventually sighed. “I’m not shocked that Voldemort marked children, but it is still disturbing.”

“Quite,” Severus agreed tersely. “What will you do?”

“What will I do?” Albus looked up from the trinket he had been studying on his desk and shook his head slightly. “I’m afraid there is nothing I can do. Bearing the mark itself is not a crime, as we both know,” he nodded slightly towards Severus’ left arm. “And I cannot expel children for being bigoted and using foul language, or else we would be rather short on students, wouldn’t we?”

Severus actually thought they wouldn’t be.

Harry had made quite a few public showings on his opinion of the word ‘mudblood’ and it had been years since Severus heard it from any of his students.

“We cannot just allow them to remain in the dorms,” Severus argued. “For God’s sake Albus, they’ll try and kill Harry.”

“Severus,” Albus spread his hands and appeared sorrowful, “what would you have me do? Expel them on the basis that they may attempt to harm the boy or allow them to stay and hope that they choose a different path? As I once did for another group of young and easily impressionable Slytherin boys.”

Severus bit his tongue at the unfair (yet, not inaccurate) jab and focused on the current underaged Slytherin death eaters. “Albus, surely you know they must be here for either Harry or yourself. The Dark Lord would not have marked them if they were not given a specific task to accomplish this year.”

“You are undoubtedly correct,” Albus said solemnly. “That does not mean I can expel them on pure speculation.”

Unlike when he expelled Harry in his second year.

“I see,” Severus said acidly. “So when you assured me that I had nothing to fear by allowing Harry to return this year, I suppose that was a lie?”

“Severus, no,” Albus’ eyes were genuine as he leaned forward and Severus could see a brief flash of the man that Severus once so admired. “I truly believe that as the boys attacked Mister Bailey, instead of Potter, that they are under orders to not hurt him. Due to the prophecy, Voldemort undoubtedly wants to do that himself. The boys were likely tasked with a smaller target; myself, Horace, or perhaps even you.”

That...

That was actually relieving to hear.

Severus would much rather be the target assigned to the boys than Harry.

Horace was also a likely target. Severus knew that Horace had been the only person to know that the Dark Lord aspired to split his soul in to seven pieces. Pity that Severus also knew the man’s memory had been swiped after Barty drained him on information on the teenaged Dark Lord he once taught. Although...

How does Albus know that Horace could be a potential target?

Albus must have seen Severus’ minute relaxation at the realization that Harry was not the only target within their walls, because he offered him a small smile. “I wouldn’t fear for the boy, Severus, between you and I, I am certain he can handle himself against the two of them if it comes down to it.”

Which Severus was well aware of.

Harry could end their lives with a flick of his hand and then go to breakfast as usual the next morning.

However, Severus knew that the moment Harry did, that would be when Albus stepped in.

“If that is your decision, then so be it,” Severus said coolly as he got to his feet. “I pray that none of the students are harmed due to your decision.”

Albus lost his smile at that.

And Severus strode out of his office and went straight to Minerva’s to inform her of the situation.

“Dear Lord,” Minerva gasped the next morning beside Severus at the breakfast table. “I take it that accepting the dark mark is hazardous to your health in Slytherin?” she murmured as they watched Crabbe and Goyle limp in to the Great Hall and sit. The moment the boys sat down, the other Slytherin students immediately scampered away, leaving the boys to appear as lepers, alone and friendless.

“It certainly appears so,” Severus agreed, sending the other students at the table a look of approval.

“Where do you think they slept?” Minerva asked over the top of her tea cup. “I doubt Harry let them in the sixth year dormitory.”

Severus snorted quietly. He had not told Minerva that he assisted the boys in evicting their roommates, yet it seemed as if the clever witch had deduced it on her own.

“I never renneverated them last night,” he said with a casual shrug, “so I presume on the sofa’s.”

Minerva chuckled lightly and then checked her wristwatch. “I should go start handing out schedules,” she sighed. “Every year there’s always at least one problem student.”

Severus eyed his problem student, the temperamental brat sitting in the same corner seat of the Slytherin table that he sat in since his first morning, surrounded by his friends who were shooting vigilant and disgusted looks at Crabbe and Goyle.

“There is always one,” Severus agreed. He drained the last of his coffee and got to his feet to go hand out the Slytherin schedules. A job that could have been Horace’s, had Severus not wanted to retain that part of his position in order to stay on top of his (frequently) chaotically scheming students.

Severus gave his seventh year prefect, Rogers, the schedules for the first, second, fourth, fifth, and seventh year students, then made his rounds with the third and sixth years.

Most of the third years were relatively simple, they had all decided their electives during last February and only two of them made any alterations to their prior choices. Severus was amused to see that Care of Magical Creatures had reached an all-time high for sign ups, likely due to the magical creatures that were consistently being set loose in the castle around the same time as signups.

Severus gave Mister Bailey his schedule then faced Harry’s group. “Bones, Granger, Longbottom, Lovegood, you will need to be at your tables to receive your schedules,” he sighed. He flicked his hand irritably at them, “Shoo.”

Bones laughed and gave Severus a cheeky wink as she got to her feet. “Are you so happy to finally have a real excuse to kick us out of our seats, sir?”

“I am,” Severus said drily. “My only regret is not having the authority to keep you away longer.”

Granger and Bones laughed as they cheerfully led Longbottom and Lovegood to their own house tables. Once Severus was left with Harry, Draco, Ronald, and Theodore, he began with the simplest one.

“Theodore, your marks qualify you to continue all ten of your previous courses if you would like,” Severus said as he checked his parchment of the sixth year students OWLS scores. “Which would you like to continue with?”

“All of them, sir,” Theodore said politely, as Severus knew he would. Severus tapped his parchment and created the schedule for him.

“Draco, you are unable to continue with Runes, the rest are open for you.”

Draco contemplated for a moment before nodding decisively, “I’d like to take the rest then, please. Oh, not astronomy though.”

Severus created his schedule and gave it to him.

“Ronald- you are unable to continue with History of Magic and Divination, would you like to continue all of the others?”

Ronald looked up and was blatantly surprised. “I thought I couldn’t take potions?”

“You could not if I were teaching,” Severus said with a slight sneer. “Professor Slughorn is more than willing to accept any student with an exceeds expectations in his NEWT courses.”

Because Horace was an idiot who would ruin Severus’ perfect fourteen year streak of not having any serious accidents in his classroom.

“Oh.” Ronald peeked down the Slytherin table for a moment before grinning up at Severus sheepishly. “Can I just take potions, transfiguration, charms, herbology, and defense then?”

“You may.”

“Oh, er... I don’t have any potions supplies though,” Ronald mumbled.

“Professor Slughorn should have supplies you may use until you are able to order some.” Severus gave Ronald his schedule and then turned to Blaise.

“Divination, arithmancy, defense, charms, and astronomy,” Blaise said immediately.

Severus checked his scores and nodded, “Done.”

Severus quirked a brow at his problem child, “Harry?”

“Defense, transfiguration, and charms,” Harry said with a careless wave of his hand.

Severus tapped Harry’s parchment then stared at it in minute horror for a moment.

There were entirely too many large blocks of time that would leave this tornado of chaos free to pursue other activities.

“And potions,” Severus said as he tapped the parchment again.

Harry’s jaw dropped as he took his schedule. “I don’t want potions,” he scowled with a subtle glance up towards Horace. “I told you I’m not taking it if you aren’t teaching it.”

“And I will not risk the lives of every student within the castle if you are allowed to run amok with only three classes,” Severus drawled. “Take potions. Professor Slughorn is an acceptable professor.”

Harry hissed something under his breath, an insult undoubtedly.

“Brat,” Severus said with a small smile. He glanced at Harry’s schedule and raised his brows mockingly. “You better hurry along, potions starts soon.”

“I’m going to get even,” Harry said darkly as he got to his feet and snatched his bag off the floor. “When you least expect it, sir.”

“I look forward to it,” Severus smirked.

He moved along to Parkinson and Greengrass, both girls were easily sorted out. Parkinson due to her low scores, and Greengrass due to her high ones. Severus glanced up and down the table for a moment with a frown, “Miss Greengrass, is Miss Davis still in the dorm?”

Greengrass frowned as well, “No, sir. She didn’t come back this year. She was worried about being a muggleborn in Slytherin after the attacks this summer. I think- I think she’s going to try and reintegrate in the muggle world.”

Severus sighed and rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. Davis was not the only student to refuse to return this year, although any student losing on their rightful education due to fear was a travesty. “That is more than understandable,” he said empathetically. “If you and Davis are still in contact, kindly inform her to write to me if she would like to explore options to continue her magical education.”

“Yes sir,” Greengrass said solemnly. “I’ll tell her. Thank you.”

Severus nodded and watched as the girls left before he turned to Crabbe and Goyle.

He approached them slowly, allowing them plenty of time to see the cold mask of displeasure he wore.

“The only classes you insufferable morons qualify for are Defense Against Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology,” he said in a cold whisper. “Though, I will personally be reaching out to Professor Black to see if he will accept students of your status,” Severus sneered at their covered left arms, “because I highly doubt he will.”

“We don’t want defense and we don’t care what you think,” Goyle said with a defiant glare. “We got more important things to do now, don’t we?”

“So it seems,” Severus sneered sardonically. “I am sure the Dark Lord trusted two boys with three OWLS a piece with an incredibly important task.”

“We aren’t telling you anything,” Crabbe sniped. “You don’t matter at all.”

Severus tapped two parchments with his wand and bent down to put his face directly in theirs as he placed the schedules on the table. “If you attempt to harm a single student within this castle, the Dark Lord will be the least of your worries,” he hissed. “Do not test me on this or you will see precisely why death is a mercy that I will not show you.”

Severus stood up and smoothed the front of his robes with an air of casual grace. “Good luck, gentlemen.”

As he strode away, Severus had an incredibly unhelpful thought...

Incompetence was just as dangerous as competence, and whatever task Crabbe and Goyle had been assigned made them particularly dangerous.

And, undoubtedly, in one way or another, Severus could be certain that Harry would be a part in their assignment. Which made Severus exceedingly grateful to have returned to the castle this year.

Even if he now had to go face a day filled with wide-eyed, eager, incompetent first year students.

***

“Sev!” Harry came bursting through Severus’ office door with a book clutched to his chest and mischief swimming in his eyes shortly after the final bell of the day rang. “Sev, I swear to God... Sev...”

Severus was taken aback by Harry’s laughter— he was in hysterics about something as he clutched his book and was bent over at the waist laughing.

“Sev...” Harry took a deep breath and grabbed his chair to steady himself. “When I said I’d get even, I had no idea how easy it would be. Your mum- her name was Eileen Prince, yeah?”

“Yes?” Severus said slowly, unsure of how his question was of any importance. Also uneasy at whatever joy Harry was experiencing over his petty argument that he would ‘get even’ with Severus at breakfast that morning.

“And your dad was a muggle, so you’re a half-blood, aren’t you?”

“You know that I am.”

“Sev.” Harry flipped the chair around so he could sit on it backwards, an irritating gesture Severus has seen Black do on occasion. Harry propped his chin on the back of the chair and grinned impishly. “Please, fuckin please, please tell me that you didn’t give yourself a stupid nickname when you were a student.”

Severus felt a fissure of unease rush through him, accompanied by the painful, yet reassuring, reminder that anyone who knew of that phase of his adolescence was dead.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Severus said with a small bite to his tone.

Harry was not cowed by his tone though, his smile merely grew as he raised a brow at Severus. “So you aren’t the... Half-Blood Prince?”

“Son of a bitch,” Severus scowled. “Who told you that?”

He would cut their tongue from their mouth.

‘The Half-Blood Prince’.

He had been so singularly idiotic.

Even Potter Senior had never given himself such an outrageously haughty title.

Harry howled with laughter until tears pooled in his eyes. “And- and you call me arrogant!” he laughed. “Wait, wait, I promised I’d ask...” Harry tilted the chair forward until the back two legs were off the floor. “Did it have anything to do with the singer?”

It did not.

Though teenaged Severus who had heard ‘Baby’ and could still remember the lyrics to this date had been quite pleased at the similarity.

A secret he had never told anyone and would take to the grave.

Along with whoever told Harry of his ridiculous self-appointed moniker.

“Tell me who told you this,” Severus growled. “NOW, POTTER!”

Harry’s chair fell backwards with enough force to knock the stupid boy right out of it and Harry laid on the stone dungeon floor and continued shrieking with laughs.

Damn Albus and the Dark Lord both, Severus would kill Harry himself.

Severus got up and stalked around his desk to glare down at the brat laughing on his floor.

Have you ever seen him so terribly amused?

No.

Did it have to be at Severus’ expense?

Apparently.

Severus glared down at the child until Harry’s laughter finally receded to the occasional snicker and he made his way back to his feet.

“Don’t ‘Potter’ me because you gave yourself a dumb nickname,” Harry said. He bent down and picked up the book he had been holding and offered it to Severus. “You were a genius, Sev. But a bit stupid too, weren’t you?”

“I am still a genius and I was never stupid,” Severus scowled. He carried Harry’s book back to his seat and groaned when he saw the title.

“My old potions book.” Severus kneaded his forehead as he recalled his habit of scrawling in the margins of his books. “Delightful. Where did you find this?”

“Slughorn,” Harry said with a smug smile. “Thanks to your little hints, I won this.” Harry pulled a vial of golden Felix Felicis from his robe pocket and held it up triumphantly.

“You are a shameless cheat,” Severus muttered without any heat as he flicked through the book and grimaced at the many notes he had made. “I may have to end my own life to escape the shame of some of these notes.”

“Susan thought they were charming.”

Severus’ head snapped up so quickly he felt a muscle twinge. “Who all has seen this?”

Harry’s smile grew until it was clear across his face, “The whole gang.”

“And did you inform them who you believed the author was?”

“Yup.”

Severus actually hissed through his teeth while his eyelid twitched.

If he ended his own life, it would only be after ending Harry’s first.

“You are a traitorous brat,” Severus scowled. “I will never forgive you.”

“I told you I’d get even,” Harry smirked. “You aren’t even really mad at me.”

No, he was not.

“I am incredibly angry,” he muttered while Harry continued to smirk knowingly. He closed the book and retrieved a pain reliever from the crate beneath his desk. He had to quickly slap his hand on the book to prevent Harry from slyly retrieving it while he took the potion though.

“No,” he said sternly. “These are the thoughts of an angry, bitter, dark, and troubled teen. You hardly need to scour them for amusement. I will purchase you a new textbook.”

“But, sir...” Harry blinked across the desk at Severus for a moment before smirking wickedly, “I wanted to see if teenage Sev had any ideas for a nickname for me. I was thinking General Half-Blood, wasn’t I?”

“Get out,” Severus said firmly, with only a slight twitch of his lips.

“Alright, alright.” Harry held his hands up placatingly. “May I have the book back?”

“No.”

Harry chewed on his lower lip for a moment before grinning. “I’ll say please?”

“Why would you want it?” Severus asked curiously. “You are an adequate brewer without my notes.”

“I’m gonna add it to my collection,” Harry shrugged. “I’ve got a book of pranks from my dad, that textbook filled with notes from my mum, and now your potions book.”

“Take it,” he said with a roll of his eyes as he slid the book across the desk. “Brat.”

Harry snagged the book with a playful smile and joyful eyes. “Bastard.”

Later, as Severus considered it, he was uncertain if Harry had purposefully manipulated him or not, but it was quite effective nonetheless.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, September 3

Harry loved sixth year so much already.

He’d been pretty annoyed with Snape when he made him add potions to his schedule, but even the addition of that one class didn’t detract from his free time too much. Monday’s and Wednesday’s he had potions right after breakfast and defense after potions; which left him with complete free time after lunch. The same for Tuesdays and Thursdays, when he had charms and then transfiguration. Which left his Friday’s completely free, the best news he’s ever gotten at Hogwarts. Plus, all of the teachers spent the beginnings of their first class of the year harping on about using nonverbal spells this year, which meant that Harry truly got to shine.

He had already been given house points by McGonagall and Flitwick both for his silent magic, and Sirius barely even made Harry participate in class aside from helping him try and teach the others how to duel silently.

It was brill.

“What’s got you so happy?” Neville asked suspiciously when Harry sat down for breakfast on Wednesday morning.

“Just a good day, isn’t it?” Harry grinned as he helped himself to a plate of sausages and eggs. “Think about it, Nev, when will we ever be sixteen again? Never. Might as well make the best of it.”

Theo snorted. “He means he’s being praised every time he sneezes in class and it’s inflating his ego to an unbearable size.”

“You sound jealous,” Susan laughed. “Poor Theo, is your ridiculous schedule not leaving you a lot of free time for joy?”

“It— no,” Theo let out a gust of air and shared a miserable look with Hermione. “It really isn’t.”

“Drop some classes then,” Draco advised them as he poured Luna a cup of tea. “Ten NEWTS will kill you.”

“But they’re all so important!” Hermione cried. “I don’t even know what I would drop!”

“Creatures and astronomy,” Blaise said. “They’re pointless classes.”

“Aren’t you taking astronomy?” Harry asked him curiously.

“I am. And so are most of the girls in our year,” Blaise winked.

“Shameless slag,” Susan teased him fondly.

“You could self-study easily for history,” Neville said quietly as Susan and Blaise bickered good-naturedly. “It’s just a written final.”

Hermione and Theo exchanged another long look before they both sighed, almost simultaneously.

“Let’s talk to Flitwick and Snape tonight,” Theo told her. “This was too ambitious, even for us.”

Harry tuned them out as he saw Sevvie flying in to the Great Hall, a parchment hanging from his claws.

“Excellent,” he breathed. He elbowed Susan, interrupting her and Blaise’s argument, and nodded towards Sevvie.

“Is it from our friend?” Susan murmured excitedly as Sevvie landed on Harry’s shoulder and stuck his leg out for him.

Harry unrolled the parchment and huddled closer to Susan so they could read together:

H,
You will never believe some of the things I’ve found! It seems like D isn’t nearly as white as his beard implies. I’ve talked with a few sources that pointed me toward another possibly good one. I’ll send more information after I talk to her, but this could be a best seller by the time I’m done.
Toodles for now,
-R

“That’s not exactly helpful,” Susan scoffed after she finished reading Rita’s letter. “We need dirt now.”

“Patience,” Harry grinned as he rolled up the parchment and stuck it in his pocket. “Be worth waiting if she—”

“What have you got?”

Harry looked up at Draco’s question, but he wasn’t looking at Harry, he was staring at Ron. Harry turned towards Ron too to see what was so curious and cocked his head at Ron’s red ears and a small parcel in front of him.

“What’s that?” Harry asked him.

“Bertie Beans,” Ron said, “and- and a card.”

Harry looked at the others to see if they could understand why a box of candy would make Ron look so embarrassed, but they looked as confused as he did.

Except Trent.

For once.

Trent was stifling his giggles as he watched Ron with a knowing look in his eyes.

“I don’t get it,” Harry said flatly. “What’s going on?”

Draco suddenly leaned forward and snatched the card out of Ron’s hands and read it aloud to the others while Ron half-heartedly tried to snatch it back.

“‘Dear Ron, I thought you were going to ask me out, but since you didn’t, I guess I’ll ask you. Didn’t you come from a line of Gryffindor’s? Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend? I don’t know if you follow traditional courting or not, but just in case, I’ve included a box of candy. Love, Daphne.’ Oh my god,” Draco looked over at Ron and began laughing as well now. “You never asked Daphne out?? I thought you were going to last May!!”

“I was,” Ron said hotly as he finally got the card back from Draco. “Got a bit distracted with the bloody death eaters, didn’t I?”

“Well?” Hermione demanded with a grin. “Are you going to write her back?”

Ron glanced down the table where Daphne was sitting with Parkinson, her fourth year sister, and a couple of the seventh year Slytherin girls. “Suppose so...” he muttered with another blush.

“Oh for God’s sake...” Susan shook her head and stood up. “Hey! Daphne!”

“What are you doing?” Ron hissed.

Daphne looked up at the sound of her name being called and raised a sculpted blonde brow at Susan. “Yes?”

“Ron would love to,” Susan yelled to her, causing the other Slytherin’s to take notice of them.

“Wonderful,” Daphne smiled towards Ron with her own slight blush now. “I’ll see you next weekend then?”

Ron looked a little sick, but he nodded jerkily. “I’ll see you next weekend.”

Harry looked between Ron and Daphne for a moment before he scowled. “You guys will see each other this weekend, we’ve got quidditch practice, don’t we?”

“Oh.” Daphne’s blush darkened as her sister giggled. “Yes, well... I’ll see you guys then.” She turned pointedly away from them amidst laughter from her friends.

“I... I don’t even...” Ron looked gobsmacked and looked up at Draco with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “What just happened?”

“You’re going to quidditch practice this weekend and Hogsmeade with Daphne next weekend,” Luna told him airily. “You really should pay more attention Ronald.”

Harry snorted just before the bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast. Trust Ron to forget to ask someone out, causing her to do it herself.

Ron still looked shocked as Harry, Draco, Hermione, and Theo told the others goodbye and headed towards potions.

“Close your mouth, Ron,” Draco snickered. “You look like you just got hit by a quaffle.”

“Things like this just don’t happen to me,” Ron hissed as he looked around them furtively. “D’you guys reckon it’s a joke?”

“Could be,” Harry shrugged. “I thought Fred was pranking me when we went to Hogsmeade.”

Hermione frowned at Harry disapprovingly, which was a bit rude considering Harry was just being honest. “It is not a joke,” she told Ron. “Why wouldn’t Daphne want to go out with you? You’re a perfectly nice guy, reasonably fanciable, and you two have a lot in common. I’m positive it was a genuine offer.”

Ron seemed to have grown six inches as he thrust his chest out and smiled at Hermione appreciatively. “You think I’m fanciable?”

Hermione shook her head in exasperation while Theo narrowed his eyes at Ron.

“Of course that’s all you heard,” she sighed. “You’re a prat, Ronald.”

“A fanciable prat,” Draco laughed as they entered the potions classroom. “Watch yourself Ron, Theo will be stabbing your eye out next.”

“What’s this about stabbing eyeballs?” Slughorn asked as the five of them took the tables in the front of the room. “Surely it’s too early for that sort of violence.”

“It’s never too early for violence, sir,” Harry said brightly as he took his seat. “In fact, mornings are when people are at their slowest, so really it’s the best time for it.”

Slughorn roared with laughter while the other NEWT students filled in.

“Oh, I bet poor Severus has got his hands full with you, doesn’t he?” Slughorn winked. “‘Never too early for violence’, you’re a cheeky one Harry.”

Harry smiled politely as he got his book out of his bag. If Slughorn thought Harry was just being cheeky, so be it.

Harry really thought he wouldn’t like Slughorn, as exhausting as it was to be ‘political Harry’, who was charming and polite, but then during his first potion class he realized that Slughorn seemed as fond of ‘rude Harry’ as he was ‘charming Harry’, so he decided to go ahead and give the man a chance. Plus, if it wasn’t for Slughorn, then Harry never would have gotten Snape’s book.

And Snape’s book was brilliant.

It was hilarious, knowing Snape gave himself a name just as stupid as ‘Voldemort’, and even better once he realized how embarrassed Snape was about it, but the notes were the real draw of the book.

Snape and Harry didn’t really keep secrets from each other, and Harry knew almost everything about Snape, but it was different actually reading his personal notes. It was like Snape used his old potions book as a bit of a journal; making scathing remarks about his professors, comments on his ‘incompetent’ classmates, and general bits on his thoughts. Such as the notes surrounding the recipe they needed for today, Polyjuice—

’Polyjuice could be combined with an Everlasting Elixir for longer lasting results, but God forbid anyone be stuck blind as a bat and wearing hideous glasses forever.’

Harry was pretty sure that was an insult against his own father, but it was also funny and insightful so Harry laughed when he subtly pointed it out to Draco.

“‘The Prince’ is a bit of a git, isn’t he?” Draco murmured with a grin. He slid Harry the boomslang skin that needed shaved.

“A brilliant bastard,” Harry laughed quietly. “Some things never change.”

It didn’t take Harry and Draco the entire hour and a half to prepare their ingredients and get them combined to start step one of what was apparently a month long process. Draco scooted over to help Ron prepare his ingredients, since there were an odd number of students in their NEWT class and he didn’t have a partner, and Harry poured through his textbook.

Harry’s eyes flicked over the spells Snape wrote, his lips curling up at the ones he marked ‘for enemies’ and made a mental note to ask him what they were for.

“Your mother liked to read too,” Slughorn said thoughtfully as he paused by Harry’s table and saw Harry focusing entirely on his textbook. He gave Harry a wistful smile and shook his head slightly. “She was a genius, she could have been the first muggleborn to dual-qualify for a charms and potions mastery. It’s a shame...”

Harry sucked his bottom lip in for a moment as he cocked his head at Slughorn. “How many people do you know that double mastered, sir?”

Slughorn looked taken aback for a moment by Harry’s question, but he scrunched his face up in thought for a moment. “Hmm...” Slughorn tapped his chin, “three wizards, that I know of.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to just say she would have been the fourth person to get a dual mastery then, sir?” Harry said politely. “Then you don’t sound like a bigot.”

In the absolute silence that filled the classroom, Hermione hiss out a shocked gasp, and Harry thought he heard Theo groan, but Slughorn didn’t look offended at all. He just blinked heavily at Harry for a moment before bursting in to a loud and boisterous laugh.

“You are just like your mother!” he roared. “My God, the cheek, the wit! You are Lily Evans all over again, lad!”

Harry just kept smiling politely.

He still hadn’t been joking.

But whatever.

Harry was just pleased as they left the classroom and he’d won another five points for Slytherin. At this rate, he’d single-handedly win the house cup without even getting some outrageous bonus for some crazy event happening.

“I hate everything about you,” Draco grouched as they made their way across the castle to the defense classroom. “Only Harry freakin Potter could mouth off to a teacher and get rewarded for it.”

“Pains of fame,” Harry quipped, unconcerned. “Can’t imagine why you’re complaining Dray, we’re in the same house. When I shine you shine,” he grinned.

“I’ll hold him down, you kill him,” Theo muttered to Draco with a small grin.

They were still arguing over who had the harder job in that scenario when they arrived in the defense classroom.

Since Sirius accepted students with an acceptable in his defense class, it was the largest of Harry’s four NEWTS with sixteen sixth years mixed together. Apparently NEWT classes were all houses, which was brill because it meant Harry’s friends shared classes now, but it also meant...

“Potter,” Finnigan sneered when Harry walked through the doorway at the same time as him. “Come to show off some more?”

“Yup.” Harry smiled sharply at Finnigan and twitched his hand quickly enough to cause the other boy to flinch and step away from him. “Somebody has to,” Harry said over his friends laughter.

“That’s enough,” Sirius said firmly from the front of the classroom. Harry saw his eyes were sparkling though, so he figured he wasn’t actually mad. “No fighting before we even start today, huh guys? Save it for class.”

“Are we dueling today, Professor?” Susan asked as she took her seat next to Harry.

Sirius was practically bouncing in place with excitement. “We are,” he told them. He waited until everyone took their seats before he pulled his wand out in a dramatic flourish. “Alright guys, so Monday we talked about the benefits of nonverbal spells over verbal ones, but what I’d like to do today is actually start on an easy nonverbal spell, expelliarmus. If you can disarm your opponent silently, it’ll be more likely to take them by surprise, which will make you more successful. Now! Who wants to volunteer to help me demonstrate?”

Sirius shook his head at Harry’s immediately raised hand. “Do you have your wand with you? Because this is easier to show with wands.”

“I’ll do it, sir,” Susan said after Harry reluctantly lowered his hand.

“Perfect.” Sirius clapped his hands together while Susan made her way to the front. “Alright, Miss Bones, if you would ever so kindly pull your wand and point it at me, perfect.”

Sirius and Susan stood across from each other, their wands raised, and Harry had an irrational feeling of irritation to see someone pointing their wand at Susan.

He knew it was a demonstration.

He was pretty sure Sirius wouldn’t ever actually hurt Susan.

But the last person who faced off against her caused her arm to be amputated, so Harry wasn’t a fan.

“We’ll have Miss Patil count us down,” Sirius told Susan. “When she says go, I want you to try and silently disarm me, alright?”

Susan nodded, a grin flitting around her lips. “Yes, sir.”

“On your count then Miss Patil.”

Padma sat up and cleared her throat. “Three... two... one... go!”

Sirius had Susan’s wand in his hand before Harry could hardly blink.

Sirius definitely never did that when they dueled over the summer.

“You hustled me!” Harry cried indignantly, forgetting entirely that they were in class. “You can fuckin cast nonverbally?”

Sirius had the fucking audacity to grin at Harry. “We’re in class, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Harry grit out.

“Yes, sir.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, “No need to call me sir, Professor.”

The thunk of a head on a desk was probably Ron this time, but Harry was busy being assigned his first ever detention from Sirius to actually check.

***

Harry showed up to his detention that night with a sullen look and tightly clenched fists.

“I’m here,” he said as he entered Sirius’ classroom. “Where should I sit, Professor?”

“You shouldn’t,” Sirius said with unflappable cheer. “You should summon your wand and come up front.”

Harry shrugged and pulled slightly on his magic, commanding it, bring me my wand.

Sirius waited, his arms lightly crossed across his chest while he propped up against his desk and waited for Harry’s wand to arrive. Once it did, Sirius gestured for Harry to come up to the front with him.

“First off, you actually do have to remember I’m a professor as lame as it is,” Sirius told him seriously. “Secondly, you’re probably the strongest wizard I’ve ever known—,”

Harry went ahead and forgave Sirius’ first point since his second was a real boost to his ego.

“—but,” Sirius added, deflating Harry’s budding smile, “you’re erratic. You don’t use spells or your wand and it makes your magic less disciplined and more likely to backfire, you following me?”

Harry considered the time he painted every fence in Surrey red...

When he caused a cave in in Slytherin’s Chamber...

Every time he’s gotten pissed off and accidentally made something explode...

“I’m following you,” Harry said tersely. “But if it’s better to cast nonverbally, then what’s the point in changing it now?”

Sirius held his wand up. “This,” he said. “This is an actual instrument for magic. I’m not saying that casting wandlessly isn’t amazing, because it’s amazing to the point of unheard of, but for spells that have the potential to go wrong? This will help guide that energy to the specific target, and no where else.”

Harry fingered the wand in his hand with a curious look. “But if it gets taken from someone, then they’re powerless.”

“Right,” Sirius nodded, “but not you. You’ll never be powerless, but it wouldn’t hurt any to be more disciplined either.”

Harry actually thought that it would hurt, somehow, but if this is what Sirius wanted to waste his detention on, then Harry wasn’t complaining.

“Alright, Professor, so what are we doing then?”

“Simple spells,” Sirius beamed, pleased at Harry’s compliance. “I actually wanted to teach you some household spells, stuff to help you when you eventually have to live alone and Mavis has a wand and refuses to wash your dishes anymore.”

Harry chuckled, “‘Kay.”

The two of them actually spent over an hour, nearly two in fact, casting a variety of household spells with wands, but using the silent incantation.

“How do you usually do it? For spells you don’t know?” Sirius asked him while they were finally putting away the plates they summoned to practice on.

“I just... er... I just tell my magic what I want,” Harry shrugged. “Like... make Sirius’ hair blue.”

Sirius laughed when he conjured a mirror to see that his hair was in fact blue. “Who taught you to do it like that?” he asked after he flicked his wand and returned his hair back to its natural rich black.

“Taught myself when I was a kid, didn’t I? I just got better at it as I got older.”

“Huh.” Sirius gave Harry a puzzled look. “Can you do anything?”

Harry grinned as he recalled his disastrous attempt at shaving by commanding his magic to shave his face. “No.”

“Still though, it’s handy, I suppose...” Sirius’ puzzled look deepened to more of a frown. “I thought you didn’t know you were a wizard until you met Snape?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then how did you know to practice?”

“Oh.” Harry remembered his little bits of childhood accidental magic. “I just did a lot of accidental magic until it finally dawned on me that it wasn’t accidental, that I was magic. Stuff like fixing dishes after I dropped them so I wouldn’t get in trouble, apparating away when I was getting my arse kicked, stuff like that. Then I started actually practicing.”

Harry had no idea what prompted Sirius to give him a tight hug when he left the classroom a few minutes later, but it wasn’t terrible, he supposed.

Even if he was still a little mad that Sirius hadn’t been dueling him to the best of his abilities over the summer.

Thursday went great, with McGonagall and Flitwick working more on practical magic than they were theories, and then finally, finally, it was Friday.

“Are you coming to breakfast?” Trent asked Harry while the other boys were rushing around their dorm getting dressed Friday morning.

Harry yawned and stretched across his bed with a lazy smile. “Nope.”

“I hate everything that you choose to be about,” Theo told him deadpan. “Trent, Harry is a perfect example of a Slytherin with no ambition.”

“Harry’s going to be Minister of Magic,” Trent said loyally. “I think that’s the most ambitious career aspiration I’ve ever heard of.”

“Ta,” Harry told him as he nuzzled his pillow.

“Let me tell you about Harry’s campaign plan, then you can decide if he’s ambitious or lazy,” Blaise laughed. He slung his arm around Trent’s shoulders and guided him towards the door. “It starts with announcing, ‘Harry Potter is running for minister’, then it ends with him winning in a landslide.”

Harry scoffed as Blaise underrepresented his plans to Trent. It also involved defeating Timmy and reminding people he did that, which was quite a bit of work apparently, but the two of them were already gone before he could correct him.

“I can’t believe you get to sleep all day,” Ron grumbled as he tied his trainers.

“‘M not sleeping all day,” Harry murmured, already mostly back asleep. “‘M also flying later.”

Ron, very rudely, slammed the dorm door rather loudly when he left with Draco and Theo. But, since Harry figured he was just regretting taking Herbology for a NEWT, he just shrugged and went back to sleep.

Sixth year was brilliant.

When Harry woke up later, he took his time showering and getting dressed before he popped down to the kitchen for whatever meal people have that falls between breakfast and lunch.

Brunch?

Leakfast?

He was pretty sure he’d heard Cissa talk about a ‘brunch appointment’ before, so probably not leakfast.

After he ate ‘brunch’, and gossiped for a bit with Mavis who returned to the castle when he did, Harry headed out to the deserted quidditch field and quickly summoned his Firebolt 100 from the locker room.

I should have brought this broom home with me over the summer, he thought as he happily zoomed around the pitch.

Harry flew, dodged, dove, and even got a snitch out to practice with until he was interrupted after only an hour by someone on the ground yelling at him. Harry flew downwards and laughed when he saw Trent waving a broomstick around with a brunette Gryffindor girl with her own broom standing beside him.

“We ditched history!” Trent yelled with a proud smile. “Can we fly too?”

“Course,” Harry agreed when he was hovering only a few feet above the two of them, it wasn’t like he owned the skies. “Who’s this?”

“Sapphire Herron,” the girl said with a grin. “Thanks for ‘definitely not killing Umbridge’,” she winked before holding up her right hand where Harry could see faint white scars across the back. “I owe you one.”

Harry’s mind went fuzzy with anger for a moment before he reminded himself that he killed Umbridge and he occluded the anger right out of his head.

“You said it, not me,” he smirked. “What position do you play Sapphire?”

“I’m trying out for chaser this year,” she said. “Trent said you learned all the positions before you applied to be captain?”

“Yup.”

“Wicked,” she beamed. “Ginny Weasley is our captain this year, but maybe if I learn all the positions I can ask Professor Black if I can have it next year instead.”

“Brill.” Harry slowly started floating back upwards. “Why don’t you go get a quaffle and we can play opposite each other while Trent keeps?”

“Yes! Thank you!”

Trent was pink in the face as he watched his friend run off.

“Is this the same Sapphire that you fancy and had sleepovers with over the summer?” Harry asked Trent with a grin.

“Nope. Different one,” Trent said solemnly.

“Riiiiight.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

When Sapphire returned with the quaffle, the three of them spent the rest of the afternoon outside flying. Trent had practiced hard over the summer with Sirius, Draco, and Ron and was becoming a damn good keeper. Leagues better than Harry was anyway.

Not that Harry would admit that out loud.

And Sapphire was already a decent chaser. It was more of a challenge to get the quaffle away from her than Harry originally thought it would be.

“My mum played for the Harpies,” Sapphire explained while the three of them eventually trooped back towards the castle, sweaty and filthy. “I heard you got picked for the Arrows though, didn’t you Harry? Why didn’t you play for them at their last match?”

Harry stuck his fists in his pockets and shrugged. “Timmy— Voldemort,” he said when she looked confused, “killed the teams owner so they reckoned I was a liability and kicked me off the team.”

“What a bastard!” Sapphire gasped, scandalized. “That’s worse than killing your parents, I think.”

Harry gave her a queer look at that. Sapphire must take quidditch really bloody seriously to think something so mad, but he just hummed.

“I blew his house up in revenge,” Harry confided told her in a whisper.

“Good,” she whispered back with a mischievous grin. “Next time maybe do it while he’s home, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Harry laughed while holding the door open to the Great Hall for her and Trent. “If you feel like skipping history again next Friday, I’ll be on the field.”

“Um... maybe the Friday after that,” she said slowly with a look at Trent. “Even Binns will notice if we’re literally never in class.”

“If you say so,” Harry shrugged. “See ya.”

Harry and Trent swerved over towards the Slytherin table while Sapphire ran off towards the Gryffindor table.

“She’s weird,” Harry told him.

“I’m going to marry her one day,” Trent said in a wistful voice. “Maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, but definitely before we’re thirty.”

Harry was still laughing at Trent’s soppy smile while they took their seats.

Though, his smile was wiped off his face just a few minutes in to dinner when Snape and McGonagall approached their group with solemn looks on their faces.

“It wasn’t us,” Susan said immediately.

“It was Neville,” said Draco.

“Hey!”

“Might have been me,” Harry grinned. His grin faltered as neither McGonagall nor Snape looked very amused. “Er... we’re kidding, what’s up?”

“Harry, can you come with us for a moment?” Snape asked. “We need to talk with you and it is rather important.”

Harry felt a slight tremor of unease run through his hands, but he tucked them under his armpits and adopted a polite mask of indifference.

“Of course, sir,” he said. He pushed away his dinner plate and got to his feet. Snape stared hard at Harry for a moment before sighing and turning to stride out of the Hall, McGonagall beside him, and the Hall full of whispers behind Harry as he followed the two.

Neither of them said anything as they walked to McGonagall’s office, which heightened Harry’s nerves and had him moving his hands to his pocket where he could stroke his penknife soothingly.

You just saw all your friends, he reminded himself. Almost all your people are at Hogwarts, they couldn’t be hurt, you just saw them.

Except Fred.

Fuck.

He should have called him when he woke up.

Harry actually felt like he was going to be sick by the time they made it to McGonagall’s office and Snape closed the door behind them.

“Harry, breathe,” Snape murmured quietly. “In and out, slowly.”

Harry sucked in a breath and tried to blink away the white spots threatening to overwhelm his vision. “What’s going on?” he asked tightly.

“Harry, where were you today?” McGonagall asked.

“Bed, then flying,” Harry said, trying to figure out how that was relevant to what he was sure she was about to tell him.

Not Fred, not Fred, not Fred.

“Can anyone confirm that?” Snape asked Harry, placing his hand on his shoulder.

Harry shook his hand off and stepped backwards, getting some space from the two of them. “Trent and a girl from Gryffindor, Sapphire,” he said. “What’s going on? Is Fred okay?”

“Fred?” McGonagall looked surprised at Harry’s question, which loosed the horribly tight knot in his chest. “Fred Weasley? He’s fine, I believe. This is about Seamus Finnigan.”

“What?” Harry blinked in surprise and looked between Snape and McGonagall for a moment. “Er... I apologize, but what’s going on?”

“Seamus Finnigan was attacked with a knife and had his memory wiped of the event,” Snape said bluntly. “Did you do it?”

“What?” Harry started to smile, but realized that would actually not help him right now, and instead shook his head solemnly. “No, sir, I didn’t. I really was in bed until after breakfast then I went flying until just a few minutes ago. You can ask Trent, he was with me while I was on the field.”

“The whole time?” Snape asked.

“Er...” Harry didn’t really want to get Trent in trouble, but only slightly less than he wanted to be in trouble. “Since before his History of Magic class,” he admitted. “But he shouldn’t get detention for skipping since he didn’t technically get caught,” he added hastily.

McGonagall snorted quietly and went to her desk to dig through the drawer for a moment. “You said Sapphire? Sapphire Herron was with you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

McGonagall checked a parchment she pulled out of her desk and nodded at Snape. “Their class started at one. If they confirm they were with Harry, then it wasn’t him. Poppy said Finnigan was attacked around two thirty.”

Snape let out a sigh and gave Harry an apologetic look. “Apologies, Harry. You’re free to go.”

Harry looked between the two professors with a bemused expression. “I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but- but was I really your first suspect?”

“You do have a penchant for stabbing people,” McGonagall scoffed before she gave Harry a warmer look that was nearly a smile. “I am sorry Harry, I know you and Finnigan don’t get along, I merely thought perhaps the two of you had a fight that got out of hand.”

“Riiiight.” Harry furrowed his brows for a moment. “So, again, I’m not being rude or anything, but I handed out like thirty knives as Christmas gifts to the students in my club, didn’t I? And most of them are decent enough with them, soooo... so I don’t really think I should have been your first suspect.”

Snape put his hand on Harry’s shoulder again and turned him towards the door. “I’ll just take Harry back to dinner before he gets himself another detention Minerva,” he said. “I will check with Mister Bailey and Miss Herron, but I am certain Harry is telling the truth. Goodnight, Minerva.”

Harry let Snape lead him out to the corridor, then immediately brushed his hand off. “What the fuck?” he whispered with a glare. “You know I’m not the only bloke walking around here with a knife.”

“I know,” Snape said calmly. “Yet you are the first suspect when a student has been stabbed in the kidney, his memory swiped, then left for dead on the dungeon floors.”

That...

That didn’t even make sense.

“If I killed Finnigan, I would have put him in the Room of Secrets or Slytherin’s Chamber,” Harry said thoughtfully. “And I probably would have aimed for the heart, not the kidneys. That’s what I taught the defense club to do.”

“I am pleased you will not be pursuing a position as a barrister in the future,” Snape drawled with a roll of his eyes. He walked alongside Harry in silence for a few moments before clearing his throat lightly. “You truly did not have an altercation with Finnigan today?”

“Nope. I’m not a fuckin liar, Sev. I would have told you if I did it.”

Harry wasn’t lying, and he also wasn’t stupid.

If he attacked Finnigan, he wouldn’t have left him for dead, he would be dead.

And they never would have found his body.

“I wonder who did it,” Harry mused aloud when they were approaching the hall.

“Finnigan is an idiot boy who goes out of his way to spew vitriol about Slytherin students,” Snape said. “I am certain that it was one of the thirty other ‘students walking around with a knife’.”

Harry’s good cheer returned to him as he slid back in his seat and Snape didn’t even bother to ask Bailey for his alibi. Harry figured it meant either Snape trusted Harry’s word, or he would cover for him even if Harry did do it. Either way it was decent of him.

“What happened?” Ron asked, his face pale beneath his freckles.

“Someone stabbed Finnigan in the kidney and Snape and McGonagall thought it was me.” Harry shrugged and accepted the fresh plate of food that Susan slid to him. “You ready for practice tomorrow?”

“No- wait- what?” Neville leaned over the table to stare incredulously at Harry. “Is Seamus dead?”

Harry frowned and shook his head. “No,” he said sadly. “He’s still alive.”

“Why’d Snape accuse you?” Hermione asked.

“Because someone stabbed Finnigan,” Draco said pointedly. “That narrows the suspect list a bit, doesn’t it?”

“Not really. Half of Hogwarts got pocket knives for Christmas,” Hermione said logically, proving why she was in Ravenclaw.

Honestly.

As much as everyone told him it was a terrible idea, it was like they all suddenly forgot Harry bought loads of students knives for gifts last Christmas.

“But what I meant was, does Seamus not know who attacked him?” Hermione asked Harry.

“Nope. They wiped his memory, didn’t they?” Harry glanced at Susan and raised a brow. “Did you do it?”

“I wish,” Susan said darkly. “Finnigan and Ginevra are on my list.”

Even Ron didn’t say anything against that, God forbid he be added to the list next.

A few of them did shudder though, being on Susan’s list was as much of a death sentence as being on Harry’s.

“Maybe it was Crabbe or Goyle,” Theo said in a hushed whisper as he snuck a narrow eyed look down the table where the two of them were sitting alone. “They are the actual death eaters in the castle.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, entirely unconcerned. “But if their plan was to kill him, they fucked up. And if their plan was to pin it on me, they still fucked up. I didn’t even get detention, did I?”

“Did you tell McGonagall that I was with you today?” Trent asked.

“Yup.”

“Did you tell her I skipped history?”

“Yup.”

Trent groaned and threw a bean off his plate at Harry’s forehead. “I hate you.”

“You don’t,” Harry grinned cockily. “Now, back to something important... quidditch.”

Chapter Text

Was time speeding up because he had a daunting task ahead of him?

An impossible task?

Or was time speeding up because the universe knew he was destined to fail, destined to lose the one person he can say he truly cares for, and Harry’s death is speeding towards him?

It was Harry who was destined to either die or be eternally haunted by a powerful and relentless enemy, yet it somehow felt as if Severus were the one being punished.

Severus’ crimes against humanity in the past were catching up to him.

It was apparently the sins of the father that would carry the son to an early death.

Every second of every day counted now.

Every. Single. Nanosecond.

And Severus needed more time.

He needed more time for his research.

He needed more time to scope out individuals who have been cited on obscure rituals for immortality with Nymphadora.

He needed more time with Harry.

Every second counted.

Every second was a cruel joke.

Because the research offered no answers.

The rituals were shams.

And Harry was fated to leave him.

Severus suffered through the beginning of the weeks with as much patience as he could extend to these students who did not matter. Severus dutifully attended meetings with his fellow professors who did not understand why Severus was so withdrawn and left the castle every Saturday.

“You seem unwell,” Aurora said hesitantly, holding him back after a meeting. “Is there anything I can do for you, Severus?”

There was not.

Severus listened as Harry’s teachers, Minerva, Filius, Horace, and Black raved about Harry in their meetings.

“I’ve never taught someone with such an innate understanding of magic,” Filius cried, excitement dripping from every word.

“Harry is a brilliant brewer, must get that from you, eh Severus?” Horace beamed. “Just as talented as you were!”

Severus wondered if Harry was utilizing his notes in the textbook he so gleefully discovered.

He likely was.

Harry was a shameless cheat when the situation suited him.

Not when his life was on the line and he was tasked with facing a dragon, but apparently being praised in potions warranted using hints and tricks from a teenaged Severus.

“‘No need to call me sir, Professor’,” Black laughed when he recounted to Minerva why he assigned Harry a detention. “I almost lost it, Minnie. I swear I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing right in front of everyone. God, it was brilliant.”

Which made sense.

Because Harry was a brilliant boy.

A brilliant boy with no bright future waiting for him.

“We’ll figure it out,” Nymphadora said after yet another failed excursion.

Severus hummed and twirled his scotch in the stained glass that Abeforth served him.

Even Nymphadora was beginning to sound less optimistic and more desperate.

More defeated.

“We will try, and we will fail,” Severus murmured to his drink. “We fail and he dies.”

“Hey.” Nymphadora reached across the table and gripped his arm tightly. “Don’t say that,” she whispered fiercely. “Failure is not an option, Sev.”

’Failure is not an option, Sev,’ Lily said with a playful grin. She eyed the sign on the bar they were attempting to sneak in to and hummed thoughtfully. ‘Okay, here’s the plan...’

“Why do you care?” Severus snapped, abruptly furious. He pulled his arm out from Nymphadora’s grip and sneered at her. “He isn’t your child. You will not be the one who will grieve his death. Why do you care?”

“First off,” Nymphadora’s eyes flashed burgundy before settling back on her typical dark blue, “don’t yell at me. I know you’re scared and you’re stressed, but I am trying to help you. Secondly, why do I care? Why do I care about saving the life of the only person who can kill Voldemort? Why do I care about saving your sons life? Ask me again, Sev, why I would care about saving the life of a child, I dare you.”

Nymphadora’s heated rant drained Severus’ abrupt, and inappropriate, anger quite effectively. He was the one to now tentatively reach out and place his hand gently on hers.

“I apologize,” he said quietly. He kept his eyes on their hands, as the coward he always feared he was. “You are not at fault for my shortcomings. You have been (unexpectedly) more helpful than you may realize, thank you, Nymphadora.”

“You aren’t coming up short,” Nymphadora told him. She ducked her head until Severus was forced to meet her eyes. “This is hard, but we can figure it out. I just know it.”

“This is impossible,” Severus whispered. He drained his glass and fished out a few coins to pay for their drinks. “I appreciate you accompanying me though. I suppose I will see you on Friday?”

Severus and Nymphadora had fallen in to a routine. On Thursdays, Severus dove in to research on horcruxes and dedicated a small amount of time in seeking out Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem. He had not had much luck—

But he did not truly want to find it yet, did he?

Finding the diadem meant that he knew all the locations of every link tying the Dark Lord to life. It meant that Severus could not continue to put off the task he so desperately avoided.

Fridays were dedicated to looking in to every lore available on immortality rituals and magic; no matter how obscure, no matter how unlikely, they looked in to every. single. one. they came across.

And on Saturdays, they sought out the individuals involved in those individuals involved in the lore and attempted to decipher if they were fact or fiction.

Most of them were fiction.

In fact, every single one thus far had been fiction.

They then typically returned to the Hogs Head and had a drink or two beneath heavy privacy charms as they either discussed their failures or avoided the topic altogether.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Nymphadora assured him. “I’ll be there Friday. Night, Sev. Try and get some rest.”

Severus nodded his head and set off towards the castle for the only day of the week that brought him joy as well as heavy grief:

Sunday, the day Severus blocked off entirely for Harry.

The two of them had fallen in to an easy routine as well. As if Harry somehow knew that Severus was hoarding every memory of him, he showed up without fail, every Sunday morning with breakfast.

They shared a meal. Severus listened as Harry chattered about his classes, his friends, his nightly conversations with Frederick, and his quidditch team. Harry then scampered off to quidditch practice, and Severus followed under a heavy disillusionment charm.

He had no ulterior purpose in stalking the child as he barked orders at his team and flew through the skies, he merely loathed the idea of missing out on witnessing these events for himself.

When Harry went to shower and change, Severus slipped back to his quarters, always in place before a chessboard when Harry inevitably came back to have lunch.

Occasionally, Harry left after lunch to sow mischief with his misfits.

Severus much preferred the days that he came for lunch with his book bag and spread out on the floor to work on his homework.

Harry entered his quarters on Sunday morning, two covered plates floating in front of him. “Morning,” he said cheerfully. “I’m here.”

Severus chuckled as he moved the pot of coffee and two mugs to the dining table. “I am aware,” he said. “Come, sit.”

Harry levitated a plate to Severus’ seat before taking his own. “Mavis is ridiculous,” Harry said with a low laugh. “I’ve just been making us plates first thing then bringing them from the Great Hall, yeah? Well today, these were already sitting there and he left me a hateful little note. He said ‘Mavis is being mad that Master Harry is not letting him makes his breakfast’,” Harry imitated the elf in a passable squeaky tone. “I swear, I’m buying him a wand this summer and telling him either we’re friends and equals, or I’m... well...” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I dunno a good threat just yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

“I am certain you will,” Severus said, forcing himself to sound fond instead of forlorn.

Harry had so many goals.

So much ambition.

“Tell me about your classes,” Severus said. He removed the cover of his plate and nearly smiled at his exact preferred breakfast before him. “Horace swears you are a potions prodigy.”

“I am,” Harry deadpanned before grinning like the imp Severus knows him to be. “Well, General Half-Blood is, anyway.”

Severus scowled as he poured Harry a cup of coffee. “I could obliviate you,” he warned him. “I could take my book back and wipe every memory of it from your mind.”

“Hmm.” Harry hummed as he accepted the drink. “You’d have to catch me first, Sev, and I’m fast, aren’t I?”

Severus twirled his wand between his fingers, in the way that Harry was so fond of doing. “I hardly need to catch you, merely cast quicker.”

Harry’s eyes glittered at challenge. “D’you think you could?” he asked. “I’m faster than I was when I was a fourth year.”

Severus shrugged casually. “Perhaps, I suppose we will never know.”

Severus could see Harry’s mind whirling as he ate. It took him mid-way through the meal to finally ask the question Severus expected him to ask.

“Can we duel after lunch?” he said. “It’s not too cold yet, we could go outside and do it.”

“You will not use your quidditch practice as an excuse for exhaustion when you lose?” Severus asked serenely.

“I won’t fuckin lose,” Harry said with a cocky lilt to his tone.

A cocky lilt that Severus would enjoy knocking right out of him.

Just because Severus could admit that he loved the boy, didn’t mean it wasn’t immensely satisfying in occasionally knocking him down a peg.

It was also beneficial, because Harry was relentless when faced with obstacles and if he were to beat Severus in a duel, then Harry would find himself with the same shortage of challenging opponents that Severus has.

“After lunch then,” Severus smirked.

It was not a ploy to spend more time with the child doing a task that they mutually enjoy.

It was training for the boy who has a future of war in front of him.

Obviously.

Severus sighed when he walked on the grounds with Harry after lunch and saw there were a great number of students lingering around the edge of the forest, the place Severus decided they would duel.

“Harry, did you tell your misfits we would be dueling?”

Harry grinned remorselessly at him, “Yup.”

“And they told...?”

“Everyone, I guess.”

Severus would have complained, but...

But he had heard a great many jokes regarding ‘the Half-Blood Prince’ recently.

“Delightful,” Severus drawled. “An audience for the Great Heir of Slytherin to be defeated.”

Harry laughed and darted away from Severus, leaving quite a bit of empty space between them.

“We’ll see, sir,” he said.

Severus eyed the crowd of students who were whispering excitedly and...

And betting.

The idiot children were exchanging coins while Ronald and Draco jotted names down on a parchment.

“I am going to draw a boundary line,” Severus called to them, “kindly remain on the outside of it if you do not wish to be injured.” He waved his wand and gave Harry and himself an orange warded boundary line of roughly 80 square feet, mixing in nearly 20 feet of the forest; far enough in to utilize the trees and boulders, but not too far in to risk running amok of one of the mad creatures within the forest.

“Ready?” Harry yelled.

Severus gave Harry a small bow, a mocking formality as he knew Harry would never bow back. “Begin.”

Harry struck immediately.

Severus dodged it as he returned spellfire.

And they began dueling in earnest.

Harry was quick, creative, brilliant.

But he was cocky, and cared more for offense than he did defense.

“You are faster than you were,” Severus praised him even as he sent a leg-locking curse his way. “Have you been practicing your control?”

“Yep.” Harry grinned and transfigured a pile of rocks in to daggers that he sent at Severus’ face. “While you’re off on your little secret trips with Tonks and Dumbledore, Sirius and I have been working on my magic.”

Observant. Harry was observant to the point of paranoid.

Though, he was slightly off.

“Albus does not accompany Nymphadora and I,” Severus said as he slashed his wand and sent the clay daggers back at Harry. He followed it with ice beneath the boys’ feet, causing him to slip and stumble.

As soon as Harry stumbled, Severus sent a stunner at him, but Harry rolled and barely dodged it.

“Hey, Sev, wanna see a neat trick?”

Severus hardly had time to duck in to the forest to avoid a tree branch Harry sent flying directly at his head before the idiot child disappeared.

“We are not playing hide and seek,” Severus drawled. ”Point me Harry Potter.”

Severus’ wand pointed directly upwards no sooner than Severus was hoisted in the air by his ankle.

“You taught me that,” Harry laughed as Severus nonverbally dropped himself to the ground. He looked up and saw Harry had climbed a damn tree, and was grinning down at him.

Severus raised a brow, “You dare use my own spells against me, Potter?”

Harry winked.

And so Severus caught the tree on fire.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Harry yelled as he precariously leapt to a nearby tree branch of a neighboring tree and nimbly climbed down. “You dick!”

Their duel became quite heated then.

They were so alike.

Stubborn, relentless, clever, vicious, willing to be cruel in order to win.

Severus would hardly gravely injure his child, but any spell that he could heal within a day was acceptable.

Harry held no similar qualms as he shot spells off that burnt, crushed, and crumbled the scenery around Severus.

“You are chaos personified,” Severus growled as Harry sent an army of quickly conjured snakes to wrap themselves around his ankles. “Brat.”

“Bastard,” Harry laughed as he sent two more quick spells at Severus.

Leaving himself wide open with no defensive cover.

Severus sent a slew of distracting lights towards Harry, glittering beams of nonsensical spells to cause him to turn his head, and then he landed a petrification to his neck and Harry fell backwards, stiff as a board.

“You have to defend yourself as constantly as you attack,” Severus told him lightly as he approached him. ”Finite Incantatum.”

“Rematch next weekend,” Harry said immediately as he leapt to his feet, his cheeks red and his eyes flashing darkly.

“As you wish,” Severus smirked.

Harry opened his mouth, undoubtedly to sass back at him, but was drowned out by the sudden ringing applause surrounding them.

“Son of a bitch,” Harry swore under his breath as they realized the crowd of a couple dozen students had grown to nearly every inhabitant of the castle, including most of the staff.

“I will never forgive you,” Harry hissed.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“Truly?”

Harry scowled and kicked a clump of dirt beneath his boots, “No.”

It was almost difficult to not believe Harry had always been Severus’ son, as ridiculously similar as they were.

“I can’t believe you lost!” Susan Bones howled as Harry and Severus exited their arena and were swarmed by students and staff alike. “You never lose!”

“He cheated,” Harry deadpanned. “I dunno how, but I know he did.”

Severus scoffed at Harry’s arrogance.

“Severus has never lost a duel in his life,” Minerva said, quite loyally. “He would have won much sooner had he not been so chivalrous.”

He would have.

If Severus had not tapered himself in a conscious effort to not accidentally harm his child, he would have won much quicker.

Dueling Harry was a thrill though, one Severus had not wanted to end too soon.

“How much did you win?” Severus murmured to her.

“Sirius bet me twenty five galleons on Harry,” Minerva said with a coy smile. “Easiest money I’ve ever made.”

“You guys were brilliant!”

Severus looked over Longbottom’s head and saw Nymphadora lounging on the ground beside Black, both of them entirely at ease as they stretched out on the grass, smiling in Severus and Harry’s direction.

Which was a rather discomforting reminder that the two of them were related.

“I mean, Harry owes me ten galleons now,” Nymphadora added with a pointed look at Harry, “but still— brilliant!”

Severus scowled for a moment, rather offended that Nymphadora would believe him to be bested by Harry, then she winked and shook her head the moment Harry turned his head to his friends.

”If you bet on me, I’ll buy you a drink in Hogsmeade next weekend,” Harry told his friends. “Even though Snape cheated,” he added hastily.

Petty brat.

“I bet on you,” Ronald told Harry. “Course, you lost, so you suck, but I did bet on you so you owe me a drink.”

“I didn’t,” Bailey said smugly. “I knew Professor Snape was too brilliant to be beat. I put all my allowance for the month on him, and now I’m rich.”

Harry narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at Bailey before turning an accusing look at Severus.

“I gave you a house,” Severus reminded him, easily interpreting his look. “I will hardly give you an allowance on top of that.”

“Fair enough,” Harry shrugged, his mock-irritation disappearing quickly. “I’m starving, think we can go get a snack from Mavis?”

Severus was under the mistaken impression that Harry was speaking to his friends, so he was taken aback as Harry blinked at him, awaiting a response.

“Certainly.” Severus glanced behind him at the wreckage from their duel and briefly considered fixing it. But...

But he would much rather go ‘get a snack from Mavis’ with Harry.

“Come along,” Severus told Harry. “You can praise my superior dueling skills as we walk to the kitchens, hmm?”

“Never,” Harry muttered darkly, driving a chuckle from Severus.

The two of them walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, Severus preening over his victory and Harry probably stewing in his loss.

The child deserved it on occasion.

“Hey, Sev.” Harry looked up at him suddenly and grinned, a twinkle returning to his eyes as they walked towards the castle together. “Did you kick my arse to impress your girlfriend?”

Severus’ neck warmed at Harry’s implication. “I will ‘kick your arse’ again if you ever call Nymphadora that again,” he warned him.

Harry laughed and the twinkle in his eyes seemed to multiple. “Who said I was talking about Tonks?” he blinked innocently.

Damn.

Severus had walked right in to that.

Harry had always been skilled at verbal traps.

“Butttt, since we’re on the subject... did you see how she was looking at you?”

Severus glanced down curiously and lifted a brow at Harry, silently asking him to elucidate.

“Sev.” Harry stopped outside the main entrance of the castle and shook his head, appearing the role of the exasperated adult. “She was looking at you how- how Fred looks at me, wasn’t she? Pft,” Harry grinned slightly, “She’s mad about you, isn’t she?”

Severus silently considered that for a moment.

Then he rolled his eyes.

“You became engaged to your first boyfriend,” Severus teased him lightly, “I hardly think you are an expert on relationships.”

“Ooookay,” Harry sang in an irksome ‘I know better than you’ tone. “Just remember when you and Tonks get married, I wanna be the best man.”

Severus rolled his eyes once more as a tiny dagger of ice struck his heart.

He swore then that despite the fact that he saw no romance or marriage in his future, if the day ever came when it was a possibility, either Harry would be there or Severus himself would not be.

There was no future for Severus without his son.

***

Friday, October 31

Severus glanced up from the paper when the entrance to his quarters was slowly opened.

“Oh. Nymphadora. I apologize, I forgot we were meeting today.”

Nymphadora cocked a brow at him—

Had they truly spent so much time together that she was mimicking his facial expressions?

— and grinned wryly.

“It’s Friday?” she said.

“Correct, although it is also Halloween, which supersedes any other plans.”

“Aah,” Nymphadora flopped down in one of the chairs in Severus’ sitting room and nodded sagely. “I forgot, you’re trick or treating tonight, aren’t you?”

Despite the actually accursed holiday, Severus’ lips twitched at Nymphadora’s endless wit.

“I am not,” he said. “I intend on stalking my child today, as is my tradition on Halloween.”

Nymphadora blinked at him.

Severus took a calm sip of his drink.

Nymphadora blinked again.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Severus smirked, “Harry is the unluckiest child to ever live—

(as they both knew to be fact)

—and the curse appears to flare up particularly on Halloween. Thus, I have stalked Harry every Halloween since his third year when I first realized it.”

Nymphadora pursed her lips skeptically so Severus sighed and explained.

“1981, I believe that is rather self-explanatory. 1991, Harry is nearly killed by a troll let loose in the castle by the Dark Lord’s puppet. 1992, the Chamber of Secrets is opened, Harry was nearly attacked by Argus, and was believed to be the culprit. 1993, Black broke in to the castle and attacked Harry with a knife—”

“Sirius attacked Harry with a knife?!” Nymphadora yelped.

Well.

Perhaps not.

Not exactly, as it turned out.

“He did,” Severus said.

Black could defend himself to his cousin if he wished to, Severus certainly would not do it.

“1994, Harry gets entered in the Triwizard Tournament despite being three years too young. Now, admittedly, I am unsure what happened on Halloween between 1981 and 91, but I am certain something did.”

“And last year?” Nymphadora asked.

Severus recalled the day last year he spent silently tailing Harry as his ward went to his classes, flew with his team, and received condolences during the feast before retiring peacefully in his bed.

“Dolores was breathing last Halloween,” Severus said solemnly. “Which was a terrible curse on us all.”

Nymphadora laughed, delighted by Severus’ sarcasm. “Alright, so then I suppose we’ll have to push off our plotting in favor of stalking. Want some company? I hear I’m decent at blending in,” she winked.

Severus considered it for a moment.

While it would undoubtedly open him to comments or, Merlin forbid, jokes, from Minerva, he was perfectly within his rights as a professor to have a guest roam the castle and grounds with him.

And since Severus had forgotten to cancel their prior arrangement for the day, it would be rude to simply send Nymphadora on her way.

“Certainly,” Severus said. He rose to his feet and offered her a sardonic arm, “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Nymphadora said with a brighter than usual smile. “Where are we going first?”

“Breakfast,” Severus said. “After that, I am unsure. Harry has the day off classes today and typically utilizes that time to either fly, gossip with the house-elves, or work with his godbrother on his ‘fighting skills’. It is quite the varied routine.”

Nymphadora laughed again. “Alright then,” she said. “Let’s go stalk your son.”

Severus hesitated outside the teachers entrance, he could hardly enter the Great Hall with Nymphadora on his arm and chattering away happily to him. Yet...

Yet, if Harry had a shortened lifespan, Severus did as well.

Which was almost just slightly reassuring as he was certain that Minerva would have a great many comments to make about their friendship.

“Would you do me a favor?” Severus asked Nymphadora before opening the door.

“Of course,” she said.

“If you could irritate Minerva to the best of your abilities, it would be appreciated.”

“Oh Sev...” Nymphadora shook her head, “I would love to.”

And before Severus could hardly blink, it appeared as if Nymphadora had transformed in to Minerva as effortlessly as if she had consumed Polyjuice.

“Perfect,” Severus smirked.

And they entered the Great Hall to a sudden silence, then ringing laughter as Nymphadora-Minerva began smiling and waving at Minerva eagerly.

“My long lost twin sister!” she cried. “Oh, I’ve looked for you my whole life!!”

Minerva’s lips flattened while the staff stared between the two incredulously.

“It was not funny when you were thirteen, and it is not funny now, Miss Tonks,” Minerva said curtly. “You’re lucky I can’t assign a detention or you’d be scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush all night.”

“Careful Tonks,” Black chuckled from his seat. “She’ll be docking Hufflepuff points for ‘nostalgia’ next.”

Nymphadora changed her features back to her own with a flourish of a bow to the cheering students. “Can she do that?” she asked Severus as he pulled a chair out for her, the one next to Minerva.

“I can, and I will,” Minerva said. Her stern tone was belied by the look of approval she gave Severus as he sat on the other side of Nymphadora.

Severus huffed quietly at her then looked through the hall and spotted Harry in his usual seat. There were quite a few Slytherin students standing around him, offering handshakes and likely condolences to the child they feared and respected in nearly equal amounts.

After a moment or two of subtly watching Harry, and reassuring himself that nothing outrageous would be happening for the next few minutes at least, Severus poured himself a cup of the coffee that the house-elves always sent him since Harry first got him hooked on the drink.

And Minerva, who Severus was certain waited until the moment he took a drink of the scalding coffee, cleared her throat lightly and smiled wryly at Nymphadora.

“Did you stay the night again, Miss Tonks?”

Severus’ sputter was thankfully masked from the others by the noise of the incoming owls delivering post and packages to the students.

“I didn’t, but if that’s your way of asking me to stay with you tonight, then I’m sorry but, as I’ve told you before, you’re just not my type,” Nymphadora said unhesitatingly.

Dear God.

The absolute nerve of the woman.

It was as charming as her pink hair and the way she stubbornly insists on assisting Severus on his impossible task.

Pomona, Filius, and Black all laughed loud enough to draw curious students eyes to them, though Minerva did not look so similarly amused.

“Of course I’m not,” Minerva said with a sly look at Severus. “I would say you prefer tall, dark, and cunning?”

“Exactly,” Nymphadora nodded. “Except, I heard You-Know-Who’s completely unavailable. If you find someone else suitable though, let me know.”

It was a mad reaction, but Severus took a hasty sip of his drink to hide his jaw dropping at the pure wit of Nymphadora.

It was a wonder she ever made it to Hufflepuff.

Minerva quipped something back to Nymphadora, obviously enjoying the battle of sass with her fellow witch, and Severus looked out towards Harry and his friends.

He watched with mild curiosity as a large auburn owl delivered a box to Harry and flew away before accepting the bit of toast Harry held out as an offer to it. Judging by the child’s expression, he was mystified as to the contents.

Perhaps a gift from Frederick, to commemorate the anniversary of his parents’ death?

Severus knocked his glass on to the floor as Harry— brave, resilient, stubborn, ‘suffers in silence’, Harry— opened the box and let out a scream.

A yelp of surprise, more than a scream, but still.

Harry never screamed.

Ever.

Perhaps not a gift then.

So Severus was rushing to the child before he even finished his small shout.

“What the fuck?” Harry cried, flinging the box away from him. “What the fuck is that?!”

Severus was internally relieved that Nymphadora and Black followed directly behind him, as he did not have to choose whether to calm Harry or examine the box. Nymphadora carefully grabbed the box while Severus erected a hasty privacy shield.

No need for all of the students and staff to witness Harry going to pieces.

“Breathe,” Severus said calmly. He ducked down behind Harry and put his hands on his shoulders to turn him around until they were face to face. Harry’s eyes were wide and his face terribly pale. “Slowly, in and out.” Severus guided him for a few moments until Harry was no longer gasping for air and was eventually matching Severus’ breaths. “Excellent,” he said softly. “Would you like a calming drought?”

Whatever was in the box must be truly terrible, because Harry nodded immediately.

Luckily, or... perhaps... unluckily, Harry had always had a penchant for anxiety and Severus had long grown accustomed to carrying a calming drought in his pocket. He handed it to Harry, who tossed it back without any of his usual fanfare.

“What the ever loving fuck was that?” Harry hissed as his cheeks regained a small blossom of color.

Severus looked through the pale blue mist that surrounded them, and saw that Albus and Minerva were now also looking in to the box that was delivered to Harry.

Which must mean it was something dreadful.

“I am unsure,” Severus said truthfully. “I will have to drop our privacy shield to investigate though, is this acceptable?”

“No,” Harry said quickly, his face darkening with a blush, one likely born of a sense of misplaced embarrassment. As if a small yelp were a cardinal sin that the Great Harry Potter could hardly bear to face the shame of. “Hold on.”

Severus watched, only mildly amused, as Harry grabbed his father’s invisibility cloak from his bag and concealed himself beneath it.

“‘Kay,” Harry’s voice whispered. “Go ahead.”

Severus waved his wand, dispelling the shield, and was immediately confronted with a grave faced Albus, a pale Minerva, a Black who looked as if he were incredibly nauseous, Nymphadora who wore her ‘solemn auror expression’, and a glowering Susan Bones.

“I need to send a message to Amelia,” Nymphadora told him immediately. “Should I meet you in your office, Sev?”

“My office, I think,” Albus said quietly. “Madame Bones can floo directly there.” He levitated the box in front of him and gestured for the others to follow.

Nymphadora caught Severus’ eye for a moment and shook her head slightly before rushing out the doors to send Amelia her message.

There was nothing good happening right now. Past that though, Severus truly had no idea what was happening.

Severus was not surprised when Susan Bones stepped up directly by his side, her chin thrust out, silently daring anyone to send her back to her seat.

“Where did Harry go?” she demanded quietly.

“‘M here,” Harry murmured from Severus’ right side. “You coming?”

“Of course.”

Of course.

Severus stepped forward, catching himself alongside Albus. “What is in the box?” he asked as their odd group traipsed towards Albus’ office.

Albus shook his head, his eyes were wide and their customary twinkle was entirely dulled. “Human hearts,” he said in a hushed whisper. “Whose they are, where they came from, I do not know.”

Severus glanced at the invisible child he could sense was still at his side with incredulity.

The curse of Halloween continues, Severus thought as he followed the group to Albus’ office to await the arrival of the aurors.

Chapter Text

Friday, October 31

Is this what his life is now?

Is this all his life would be until Timmy is gone?

Until Dumbledore was gone?

Until Harry was the last wizard of their bitter trio left standing?

Would he spend his life until then just sitting around, waiting for someone to tell him that one of his people died?

‘They fought bravely’, they’ll say. ‘They died for what they believed in.’

Which is just bullshit for: they’re dead and never coming back.

‘Haha, Harry, you’ll be alone forever because I’ve killed your people.’

Is this his life now?

Is this what war was?

Harry didn’t much like it after all.

He nearly stepped past the stone gargoyles to enter Dumbledore’s office when a bit of the haze in his mind cleared.

Idiot.

“Susan.” Harry yanked his cloak off and grabbed Susan’s hand tightly. “Run, run like your fucking life depends on it, straight to my bed and get my mirror under my pillow. Hurry, please,” he whispered desperately.

Susan asked no questions, needed no clarifications, she turned on her heel and sprinted faster than Harry ever could with her long legs.

Harry heard what Dumbledore told Snape.

‘Human hearts.’

Which was exactly what Harry thought the contents of that box was when he opened it.

And, as far as he could tell, the human hearts that were delivered to him were identical.

Harry didn’t know if all hearts looked the same, or if those two came from an identical duo.

“Breathe,” Snape murmured from his side as they ascended the spiral staircase to the Headmaster’s office.

“Can’t,” Harry said tightly. Logically, he knew he was breathing, but his chest was so tight he also thought he might be having some sort of internal organ failure.

A heart attack?

That was ironic.

Snape put his arm out, holding Harry back as he let Sirius pass him to enter the office with Dumbledore and McGonagall.

“No matter what happens, I am beside you,” Snape said firmly, his eyes boring in to Harry’s. “Whatever we discover, I will assist you fully in dealing with it however you choose, do you understand me?”

Harry’s breath audibly hitched in his throat.

Snape must think those hearts belonged to the same people Harry did to offer such a thing.

Harry clenched his eyes shut, wanting to shut out this moment entirely.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered plaintively. “I can’t lose him. I can’t, Snape, I can’t. I don’t want to be alone.”

Snape wrapped his arms around Harry, causing him to stiffen for an instant before he relaxed slightly.

“I know,” Snape murmured. “I will offer you no empty platitudes, Harry. If it is your Weasley—”

Harry whimpered.

His Weasley.

His Fred.

Joyful, optimistic, warm, Fred.

Harry clenched his left hand, feeling the ring tight on his finger as he did.

“—then we will do what we must,” Snape went on. “And what we must continue to do, is to live. Live and fight.”

Harry knew that was just more bullshit speech.

Everyone could dress up their words however they wanted, but the underlying messages were simple.

‘We must continue to live,’ just meant:

‘Don’t kill yourself, buddy.’

Which Harry would probably do anyway as soon as he knew for sure whose organs were inside the fucking box.

He’d summon his gun and blow his brain out across Dumbledore’s office before he suffered through a lifetime of grieving for the person who loved him the most in the entire universe.

Fred knew about every life Harry took. Fred knew about Harry’s past. Fred had seen Harry in the middle of an embarrassing breakdown. He’d seen him weak. He’d seen him strong. He’d seen him mean.

And he loved him anyway.

“We have to march in there, but once we do, we are going to get to the bottom of this,” Snape whispered commandingly. “And the instant we have a definitive answer, we will floo from Albus’ office to my office, then directly home. Do you understand, Harry?”

Harry nodded against Snape’s chest.

He understood that Snape was planning for the worst.

Because surely Timmy decided that taking Harry’s parents from him on October 31st, fifteen years ago, wasn’t enough. Now he took two more lives of Harry’s people and sent Harry the direct proof of their deaths.

Timmy was probably laughing like a maniac in whatever hiding spot he had now as he imagined Harry’s reaction.

’Haha, Harry, you’ll be alone forever because I’ve killed your people.’

He never should have gotten so fucking attached to all these very kill-able people.

“We are going to enter Albus’ office now with our heads held high as we do not have any information yet,” Snape said quietly. He pulled Harry back by his shoulders and stared in his eyes. “The instant that we do, I will assist you in burning the world to ash if that is what you desire. Until then, stand by my side and lift your head. Excellent,” he said as Harry reluctantly lifted his head. “We are entering the office now.”

Snape turned Harry to the door, easily moving his arm across Harry’s shoulders.

“Count your inhales and exhales,” Snape said as he reached for the handle. “Focus on the weight of my arm on your shoulders, the smells of Albus’ office, the ghastly colors of his robes. Focus on your surroundings, Harry. Are you ready?”

No.

“Ready,” Harry said dully.

If Susan was his soul,

Snape was his brain,

and Luna was his heart,

then Fred was the refreshing air that flowed through his lungs.

Harry couldn’t survive without air.

And he could already feel it restricting as Snape turned the doorknob and he became that much closer to hearing the inevitable.

Despite his efforts to adopt a mask of utter boredom like Snape wore, Harry must look terrible because Sirius jumped to his feet and gave him a pitying look.

“Jesus, Pup.” Sirius conjured a chair for Harry the instant he stepped in the room. “Sit.”

“I’d rather stand,” said Harry. His eyes flicked to the box on Dumbledore’s desk then immediately ticked up to the Headmaster then over to McGonagall and finally settling on the bright red phoenix on a golden stand near the window.

“Harry, do you have any idea who sent you this box?” McGonagall asked him.

Harry shrugged, but Snape’s arm masked the movement, so he shook his head instead. “Probably pretty damn obvious, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” she asked.

“D’you know who they belong to?” Harry asked her, impatient now to speed up this slow suffocation.

When Harry eventually died one day, he hoped it was quick. Because this slow death was the worst torture he’d ever experienced.

Snape guided Harry to the chair Sirius made and conjured himself an identical one so they could sit off to the side of the room, in front of a bookcase and a portrait of a man that kept giving Harry a sad frown. Harry wouldn’t have sat, considering he just said he didn’t want to, but since Snape sat, either Harry had to dislodge his arm from his shoulders or sit too.

And if he dislodged his arm, he might jump out Dumbledore’s office window.

So he sat.

“We do not,” McGonagall said. “Although—”

“LET ME IN RIGHT MOTHER FUCKING NOW!! HEY! LET ME IN!! I WILL KICK THIS DOOR DOWN!!”

Harry startled at the sound of Susan’s voice coming from a small silver trinket on Dumbledore’s desk.

“Merlin, the mouth on her,” McGongall murmured with a shocked look at the trinket.

“That would be Miss Bones,” Dumbledore said with a small smile. He tapped his wand to the silver trinket and Harry got on his feet as he heard Susan storming up the steps to the office.

Damn she was fast.

Harry lunged for the door the instant it was thrown open and Susan was holding up a mirror—

A mirror with Fred’s face in it.

Harry’s lungs expanded with the first breath that didn’t hurt that he’s had since opening the box.

”Son of a bitch,” Harry hissed in Parsletongue (Susan could curse in English all she wanted, but Dumbledore already expelled Harry once, he wouldn’t give him a chance to do it twice). Harry snatched the mirror from Susan and stared down in it with relief.

“Fred?” he whispered, easily moving side by side with Susan as they stood in the open doorway.

“Hey darlin,” Fred yawned. His hair was mussed up and his eyes were a little bleary, as if he just woke up. “What’s going on?”

Harry glanced up and caught Dumbledore’s curious eyes.

“Er... nothing,” Harry said. “You and George are working today?”

“George is opening the shop right now, since I overslept,” Fred said with a lopsided smile. “What trouble have you gotten in to already?”

”None” Harry clutched the mirror in his hands tightly as he memorized every freckle on Fred’s face. “You remember our first date, when we stole that case of butterbeer?”

Fred scrunched his eyebrows together and squinted at Harry. “Must have been your other boyfriend,” he said, “because we broke in to the Shrieking Shack and then went to Zonko’s and I met Sirius on our first date.”

Harry let out a heavy sigh and smiled slightly. “Just checking it was actually you,” he said. “I gotta go.”

”Alrighty, darlin, wanna call me later and tell me why you’re in the headmaster’s office?”

“How’d you know that?” Susan asked over Harry’s shoulder.

“Been there enough times to recognize the door, haven’t I?”

Harry heard Dumbledore and McGongall chuckle, which was a good reminder of where he was and what was going on.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Harry said quickly. “Call me if anything happens today, yeah? I’ll keep this with me.”

All the time.

He would carry this mirror all the time.

He couldn’t handle the constant fucking anxiety of wondering if Fred was dead or not.

Fuck.

He would have to kill Timmy and Dumbledore before graduation or else this feeling would just be worse when none of his friends were constantly with him.

“Okay, I love you,” Fred said. “Talk to you tonight.”

Harry nodded and ended their connection. He pocketed the mirror and felt a faint blush on his cheeks. He defiantly lifted his chin and dared anyone to say anything.

“You thought the hearts belonged to Fred and George Weasley?” Dumbledore asked him as he sat down in his desk chair.

Susan grabbed Harry’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Well, they’re identical hearts, aren’t they?” Harry said with as much neutrality to his tone as he could considering Dumbledore tried to kill him in May. “I only know two identical people.”

Nobody laughed, but the look on Snape’s face seemed like they were close to it.

“I also thought they were identical and from the Weasley twins,” Susan said, like a loyal liar.

Susan didn’t even see the hearts.

“Pup,” Sirius grinned over his shoulder at Harry, “there’s literally a pair of identical twins in your year here.”

“Are there?” Harry asked, surprised.

“Padma and Parvati,” Susan murmured.

“Oh. Well I doubt someone would send me their hearts, would they?” Harry said with a glare as Sirius huffed out a laugh.

“Most hearts look remarkably similar,” Snape said smoothly. “I can understand your confusion, and I am quite relieved that your Weasley is fine.”

“Yeah me too,” Harry said with a small grin for him. He knew Snape was only pretending to hate Fred. He also saw the subtle look towards his chair Snape gave, but he didn’t want to sit really. He glanced back at McGonagall, choosing to address her rather than Dumbledore.

“I apologize that I was rude before, ma’am,” he said politely.

McGonagall gave him a small smile and inclined her head slightly. “I understand you were concerned,” she said warmly. “Although, I admit that I do not find the sender of this box to be ‘pretty damn obvious’, would you mind giving me your best guess?”

“Timmy,” Harry said confidently.

Who else was fucking mad enough to send Harry human hearts on the anniversary of the day he became an orphan?

McGonagall glanced at Sirius, who bit his lip in an effort to stifle his laughter and shook his head.

“Who is Timmy?” McGonagall asked Harry, mystified.

“Voldemort,” Harry shrugged. “He prefers to be called Timmy though, if you ever meet him.”

Harry had no idea what caused Dumbledore to start chuckling, but that’s what the old man did. He started chuckling, along with several of the portraits on the wall. Susan clenched Harry’s hand tightly for a moment, as if Dumbledore’s laughter pissed her off as much as it did Harry.

It probably did.

She hated Dumbledore.

“My God,” McGonagall sighed. “Harry, I genuinely have no idea what is wrong with you.”

Harry shrugged.

Lots of things really.

Lupin and Snape could probably give her a list.

“Can you diagnose the hearts or something and find out who they belong to, ma’am?” Harry asked her.

“No,” McGonagall said simply. She stepped around the desk and sat next to Sirius, leaving Harry and Susan as the only ones standing.

Which Harry preferred really.

“Sir?” Harry asked Snape.

“I cannot,” Snape told him. “We will have to send the organs with Madame Bones to be tested by the Ministry.”

“‘Kay,” Harry shrugged. “Can I go then?”

“I would prefer it if you waited for Madame Bones to arrive, please,” Dumbledore said softly from behind his desk. Harry glanced at him, but he kept his eyes averted to his desktop, as if he knew Harry didn’t want to have him even look at him. “She will probably want to hear from you about your theory on Timmy,” his beard twitched, “sending you the box.”

Harry clenched his jaw then focused on the swirling golden threads in Dumbledore’s purple robes and nodded his head shortly.

It was a pretty awkward silence after that.

Sirius finally cleared his throat and scooted the chair he was in to the side until he could see Dumbledore behind the desk and Harry in front of the doorway both. “The mirrors working alright then?” he asked Harry brightly.

“Yes,” Harry responsed curtly.

Harry knew Sirius couldn’t stand silence, but Harry didn’t want to talk about his mirrors in front of Dumbledore. He wouldn’t give him an opportunity to try and ban them or something daft.

“They were easy to make, really,” Sirius said, “not even a single rule broken with them.”

Harry and McGonagall both scoffed.

As if Sirius had ever done anything as a student that didn’t break a rule or two.

Sirius chuckled just as the fire in Dumbledore’s giant fireplace flashed green and Susan’s aunt Amelia stepped out, quickly followed by Tonks. Amelia stepped over to Harry and Susan while Tonks took the seat by Snape and whispered something quickly in his ear.

“Harry, Susan,” Amelia gave them a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Bad morning?” she asked them lightly.

“I’ve had worse,” Harry said truthfully.

Amelia nodded and conjured two small chairs directly behind Harry and Susan. “Well, have a seat, because I’ve got some news and I’m not quite sure how you’ll take it.”

Probably fine.

Harry could see Snape, Susan, and Sirius in this room.

He just talked to Fred.

Blaise, Hermione, Theo, Draco, Ron, Trent, Neville, and Luna were all at breakfast.

And that was basically all the people Harry cared about.

So whatever Amelia had to say, would probably be fine.

Harry went ahead and sat though, no need to directly ignore the Head of the DMLE.

Amelia and Tonks exchanged a loaded look before Amelia sighed and moved to kneel in front of Harry.

Harry hadn’t noticed before, but Amelia’s eyes were the same shade of teal as Susan’s. She also had little freckles on her nose, and bags beneath her eyes.

“Harry, your... relatives,” she said carefully, “were found dead in their home this morning with the dark mark above the house. We went to investigate, and... and it wasn’t pretty. That’s where the organs must have came from.”

“Cissa?!” Harry yelped, not registering the plural suggestion in ‘relatives’.

Jesus Christ, how could he have forgotten his own cousin?!

“What?” Amelia’s nose scrunched for a moment. “No, Vernon and Petunia Dursley.”

Harry inhaled very slowly.

He exhaled very slowly.

He cleared his mind.

He poked at his mental barriers.

He focused on the scent of Amelia in front of him, a nice floral smell that Susan sometimes smelled like, maybe a shared brand of shampoo?

Harry did anything to distract his mind so he didn’t actually laugh in front of all these people.

What the fuck? Why would anyone bother killing the Dursley’s and sending Harry their hearts?

Also...

Vernon Dursley didn’t have a very good few months recently, did he?

And he’s dead now.

Can’t live without a heart.

Hateful prick.

“Oh,” Harry said, as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t start laughing. “I see.”

Amelia gave Harry a knowing look, somehow understanding that Harry wasn’t all that torn up over it.

“I believe they suffered quite a bit,” Amelia said in what sounded like a sympathetic tone, but she also winked at Harry, so he wasn’t really sure what the fuck was going on. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you.”

Another wink.

Amelia was not sorry, she was mad.

And Harry loved it.

“That’s horrible,” Susan sighed, sounding just as sympathetic as Amelia. “What about Harry’s cousin, Dudley? Was he tortured as well?”

Susan was a much better actress than Harry was actor. He had to duck his head to hide the smile that tried betraying him in front of everyone.

“The fat kid?” Tonks asked. “He’s fine, he’s at some weird school full of other fat kids.”

If Harry didn’t have Fred, and Tonks didn’t fancy Snape, he might have snogged her in that moment.

He’d definitely have to do something nice for her to repay her for that comment eventually anyway.

’The fat kid.’

How many times had Dudley called Harry a speccy, scrawny, midget?

As if it wasn’t his own parents fault for not feeding Harry.

“Ah,” Harry said. He bit his lower lip and tried to look a little sad, just an act as he expected everyone thought he would react sadly to this news.

Except for Amelia.

Who specifically informed him the Dursley’s were tortured and suffered before winking where nobody could see.

Clearly Susan got her acting skills from her aunt.

Even if Amelia was a cop, Harry might have fallen just a bit in love with her.

“You’re certain, Madame Bones?” Dumbledore asked, sounding grave.

Amelia got to her feet and turned to face the Headmaster. “I am,” she said. “Their chests were cut open, their hearts missing. They both bore signs of long-term exposure to the cruciatus curse, and Vernon Dursley was missing multiple fingers.”

Harry ducked his head again and peeked over at Susan.

Well, that hadn’t been Timmy at all, had it?

The finger part, anyway.

“How tragic,” McGonagall said drily. “They sounded like such a lovely couple too.”

“A terrible end for wonderful people,” Sirius said cheerfully. “Well, if that’s all this was, then I’m off to teach classes then, I’ll see you all at the feast tonight.”

Sirius clapped Harry’s shoulder and whistled merrily as he strolled right out of Dumbledore’s office.

If Sirius wasn’t bothering to act, Harry wouldn’t either.

“And you’re sure it was death eaters?” Harry asked Amelia curiously. “And you’re definitely sure they’re dead?”

“Yes, and yes,” Amelia told him. “The dark mark has been found above other homes with similar muggle attacks recently. This one was obviously... different,” she said with a glance at the box on Dumbledore’s desk, “but dark magic had definitely been performed there. And I’ve got the bodies in a morgue in the ministry, waiting for an official identification, but they’re definitely dead.”

“I can ID them,” Harry offered. “I don’t have classes today anyway.”

And he desperately wanted to see for sure that they were dead.

“Me either,” Susan lied.

“Severus?” Amelia asked Snape. “We can close this case up quickly if Harry were to make the official ID.”

Snape looked at Harry and searched his face for a moment before nodding slightly. “If Harry wants to do it, he is welcome to,” he said. “Amelia, would you kindly remain with him until you return him to the castle though? Harry seems to have a knack for disasters happening on Halloween.”

Harry grinned.

Snape was still mad about the Triwizard Tournament apparently.

As if today didn’t top that day by a long shot.

“Of course,” Amelia agreed. “Albus, I am taking Harry and Susan and will return them after lunch.”

Forget Fred and Tonks both, Harry might marry Amelia actually.

She didn’t ask the Headmaster of the school, she told him.

“Your aunt is the best,” Harry murmured to Susan before the stepped in the floo behind Amelia.

Susan beamed over at him, “I know.”

Then they floo’d side-by-side to Amelia Bone’s office.

As soon as Harry tripped out of the floo, he was caught in a warm hug.

He would have yanked backwards, but he could smell Amelia’s shampoo and was more confused than anything.

“You’re okay?” Amelia asked.

“Er...” Harry patted her awkwardly on the back. “I’m very sad on the inside?”

Amelia chuckled and let go of Harry. “No you’re not.”

“No, he isn’t,” Susan said. “Can we go see the dead bodies?”

Amelia rolled her eyes at Susan while Harry quickly tossed his cloak over himself.

He’d been paraded through the Ministry before, he had no desire to do so again on the anniversary of his parents death. It would be like accepting condolences from his classmates times a hundred, except worse because Harry couldn’t just hiss once these people started to annoy him.

Amelia led Harry and Susan through the aurors office, which was abuzz with quiet conversations, and took them to the lifts. They were all quiet as they descended to the lower levels of the Ministry.

“Why weren’t they taken to St Mungo’s?” Susan murmured as they walked through deserted and dark corridors in a maze so complex that Harry was having a hard time memorizing the escape route.

“We have to ID them here, then release the bodies to the muggles,” Amelia explained. “If we don’t do an autopsy here, then the report isn’t as ironclad when we write it up as a crime.”

“But...” Susan hesitated, “but... didn’t you go to St Mungo’s to identify mum and dad?”

Harry never really heard Susan talk about her parents, aside from a little comment here or there, so his ears perked up a bit.

“I did,” Amelia said softly. She moved over so she could stand beside Susan and Harry saw her grab Susan’s hand. “They weren’t pronounced dead on scene, the healers at St Mungo’s tried to save them. That’s why they were already there.”

“Oh, right,” Susan said quietly. Harry felt a pang of envy as Susan suddenly smiled adoringly up at her aunt. “I love you, Auntie.”

“And I love you,” Amelia said warmly.

How come Harry and Susan were orphaned in the same war, but she got Amelia Bones and Harry got Petunia Dursley?

Harry would have done anything to have Snape be the one that took him in when he was a baby. Or Sirius. Or Amelia. Or even Draco’s parents.

His whole life could have been different.

He could have been different.

But it was too late now.

”And we love you,” Susan smiled towards where Harry was walking beneath his cloak, ripping him from his jealous thoughts.

”You’re my favorite honorary son,” Amelia added with a wink.

”Honorary nothing,” Susan scoffed. “Harry’s my brother, my soulmate, so he’s your nephew, like it or not.”

Amelia chuckled and then stopped in front of a thick metal door with no markers on it. Harry slipped the cloak off his head, keeping it around the rest of his body just in case though.

“Susan, wait out here,” Amelia said sternly. “Harry, are you certain you want to do this? It isn’t pretty. I’m sure Albus or Severus could ID them instead if you’d like,” she said much more softly.

“I’m sure,” Harry said. He squared his shoulders as Amelia opened the door and they stepped inside.

“Fuck,” Harry gasped in shock. “It’s bloody cold, isn’t it?”

The room was empty, aside from a large metal table in the center of it with white cloth covered lumps. There were dozens of drawers lining the walls, and it was the coldest damn room Harry had ever been in.

“Yeah, it has to be,” Amelia said. Despite not being able to see Harry’s body, she was able to place her hand on his back and gently guide him forward. “Are you ready?” she whispered.

Harry nodded, and Amelia lowered the sheet off just their faces.

That was them.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley.

It had been years since he’d seen them, and they looked older, and certainly more swollen and bruised than they once had, but...

But that was them.

Harry stared down at Vernon’s face and thought of the last time he saw him. He’d been young, only eight, but you don’t forget the person who beat the hell out of you then abruptly kicked you to the streets the next morning.

“‘Boy’ he called me,” Harry murmured absently as he stared down at him. “He said I was a freak, worthless, didn’t even deserve a name or a bedroom really. He told me to ‘get the hell out’, if he ever saw my face again he’d call the police and have me locked up forever.”

Amelia made a soft sound that Harry ignored as he slowly reached out and touched the side of Vernon’s swollen cheek.

“He’s dead,” Harry whispered wondrously. “He hated me, and now he’s dead.” Harry ducked down a little so he could look right in Vernon’s face. His lips twisted in to a cruel smile. “D’you hear me? You’re dead and I’m not. ‘Boy’ is alive and you’re dead.”

Vernon Dursley had been one of the first people who wanted Harry dead, and now Harry was identifying his body in a cold and uncaring morgue.

Vernon Dursley lost.

And Harry won.

“That’s them,” Harry said flatly. He stepped away from the table and curled his lip up at the couple. “Vernon and Petunia Dursley.”

“You did great,” Amelia said. “Come on Harry, let’s go.”

Harry had a sudden realization and turned to look at her. “Can I have a moment? In private?”

“Sure,” Amelia’s eyes were soft as she smiled at him. “Come out when you’re ready.”

Harry nodded and waited until she closed the door behind her.

Knock, knock, Timmy, he called irritatingly through their connection. Guess what?

Harry stepped up to the bodies and smiled victoriously down at them.

You’re the stupidest fuckin person I’ve ever known. You couldn’t kill a baby and you didn’t hurt me now, as much as you must have wanted to. Fuck you, noseless dick.

Harry closed the connection firmly as he felt Timmy’s extreme shock reverberating through it.

“I hated you, my whole life,” Harry said to the Dursley’s corpses. “There was a time when all I wanted was for you to love me, treat me like family, but this is what I’ve wanted instead for a long time now. So, ta.”

Harry turned on his heel and strutted from the room, his head held high and his chest light.

He won.

By the time Susan and Harry returned to Hogwarts, they had to go straight to dinner.

Instead of sending them back once Harry’s identification was made, Amelia took them for ice cream. Then they walked over to Fred’s shop and surprised him. Harry quietly filled him in on the events of the day, and Fred took an early break to wander Diagon Alley with them for a bit.

“People are going to think I’m cheating on you,” Fred laughed as the four of them walked around, referring to the Polyjuice that Amelia gave Harry to drink so he wouldn’t be mobbed in public.

“That’s what you get when you date one of the most well-known wizards in our community,” Amelia said airily.

They browsed the Quidditch Supply Store, the Owlery (and Harry made a mental note to buy Susan an owl for her next birthday as she lovingly stroked a pretty white one), and Amelia even took them to a few ‘junk shops’ in Knockturn Alley where Harry quickly purchased a scarf that strangled anyone except for the owner. After lunch, that Amelia insisted on treating them to (‘It’s a holiday, of sorts,’ she said when Harry argued. ‘Just shut up and let me buy you food.’), Fred went back to work and Harry and Susan went to the Ministry with Amelia for a while.

By the time Harry and Susan returned to the castle, Harry was certain that this Halloween beat Halloween from his fourth year by a long shot.

“Party tonight?” Susan grinned as they walked together to the feast.

Harry hummed. “Maybe just poker with the gang?”

“Brill,” Susan grinned. “Can I invite Daphne? Ron won’t win if he’s distracted.”

“Perfect.”

And that’s what they did.

Harry got temporarily waylaid by Snape after the feast for a minute though. He held him back and rolled his eyes as Harry’s friends all trooped towards the dungeons together.

”Must you flaunt your disdain for rules?” Snape sighed.

”We weren’t flaunting, we were just...” Harry paused for a moment then shrugged. “Yeah, I guess we must.”

Snape scoffed, but his eyes were tight as he stared at Harry. “How are you?”

”Fine.”

”It would be understandable if you were not.”

Harry gave Snape an incredulous look. “They hated me, and I hated them,” he said. “Why would I be upset that they’re dead now?”

”I do not expect you to be sad,” Snape said, “I do know you, brat. However, I am certain that seeing their faces may have brought up unpleasant memories of your time with them.”

Oh. Well. Yeah.

Harry had been rehashing all the times he’d tried to make them like him, all the times they proved how much they hated him, and just all sorts of things about the Dursley’s during the feast, hadn’t he?

”Suppose so,” Harry said. His eyes flicked towards where his friends went and he desperately wished he were there instead of standing here talking about feelings with Snape.

Snape must have picked up on it, because he pulled an orange vial of Harry’s specifically tweaked Dreamless Sleep from his pocket and gave it to him.

”Just in case,” Snape said. “Go. Go make a great deal of noise and messes with your ever growing band of misfits. I will be in my quarters tonight, if you need anything.”

Which was a Snape-ism for: if you start freaking out, come find me.

Harry grinned and gave Snape a sloppy salute before he ran off to do just that.

As he jogged towards the Slytherin common rooms, he decided that he’d rather have Snape now than have had Amelia since he was a baby.

Even if Amelia was loads of fun to be around sometimes, Snape was a better parent than Amelia was aunt, he was sure.

Harry, Susan, Hermione, Theo, Blaise, Draco, Luna, Ron, Neville, Trent, Sapphire, and Daphne played cards until nearly two in the morning. Mavis brought cakes and crisps and drinks for them. They talked, and laughed, and made a great deal of noise that they surely would have gotten yelled at for if it wasn’t Halloween and Harry didn’t have most of Slytherin too afraid to complain about his activities.

And when Sapphire and Daphne left, Harry and the others rearranged the room to have a sleepover and Susan curled up in Harry’s bed with him.

“Are you glad they’re dead?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. He stared up at the ceiling and thought about it. “Doesn’t make much sense though, does it?”

“Why Timmy would kill them when everyone knows they didn’t like you?”

“Exactly.”

Susan huffed and tangled her left leg up with Harry’s right leg. “It doesn’t make any sense at all,” she said.

“I keep trying to figure it out, either he thought it would hurt me somehow, or... or he didn’t?” Harry said quietly. “But... but why?”

“I don’t know,” Susan admitted. “Either he’s an idiot or he’s playing a game that we don’t know the rules to.”

Harry laid there for a long time, considering.

“I don’t think he’s an idiot, Sue.”

“Me either.”

And that made it worse.

Because if Timmy started playing a game Harry didn’t know the rules to, then the odds of him losing were pretty damn high.

Harry ignored Timmy’s efforts to break in his mind and grabbed the dreamless sleep from Snape and shut out the entire confusing day.

Chapter Text

Saturday, November 8

“This one?” Ron asked, holding up an orange canons shirt.

“With your hair? God no,” Draco laughed. “Do you have brown or dark blue?”

“Er...” Ron flipped through the shirts in his wardrobe. “No!” he wailed. “Why don’t I have any good clothes?!”

He knew he should have bought some new clothes when he went shopping with everyone over the summer. But nooo... he just had to have a bloody expensive chess set, boots, and a new trunk instead.

“Quit being dramatic,” Draco scoffed, which was awfully rich considering he was the most dramatic bloke Ron had ever met. “I’ve got a blue one that’ll be perfect.”

Ron sagged with relief as Draco went to his own wardrobe and began digging through it. Draco might be a dramatic prat, but he was his dramatic prat who had good taste in clothes.

“Here,” Draco handed him a smart blue shirt. “It’ll look perfect.”

“Brill, Ron, now put on some damn trousers,” Harry muttered from the door of the loo. Harry was already fully dressed, in a pair of jeans and Fred’s yellow knitted jumper with the blue ‘F’ on the front. Harry didn’t look like he was concerned with his appearance at all, which was fine, because Harry was only going to see Fred, wasn’t he? And Fred wasn’t really all that great, no matter what Harry thought.

Not like Daphne.

Daphne Greengrass was, hands down, the prettiest girl in their school.

In the world, maybe.

Prettier than even Bill’s fiancé, Fleur.

And she played chess, quidditch, and could apparently kick arse at cards too.

So Ron couldn’t just wear a Weasley sweater and a pair of jeans, like Harry was. He had to look perfect and cross his fingers that this wasn’t some cruel prank.

Harry’s hair was also wet and shaggy and dripped on the floor as he stalked past and pointedly didn’t look at Ron’s half-dressed state.

Or... mostly naked state.

He was standing in the middle of the room in just his pants and socks.

“Right,” Ron mumbled, “trousers...”

Blaise snorted and tossed Ron a pair of his own expensive trousers. “Don’t ruin them,” he said with a grin. “No drool or other bodily fluids, Weasley.”

“Cheers, mate,” Ron grinned and slid them on.

This was exactly why he didn’t think to buy a new set of clothes over the summer, his roommates were always there for him when he needed something. Sometimes he thought about when he got sorted and thought he wanted to be in Gryffindor, what a mad idea. He couldn’t imagine having to share a dorm with Thomas and Finnigan. Heck, most of the time he felt bad for poor Neville for not coming to Slytherin with them.

“Oh, did you guys hear about Neville?” Ron grinned, pausing the other boys’ conversations.

“What happened to Neville?” Harry asked quickly, his hand already flying to his pocket.

“He’s fine,” Ron said hastily. Merlin, for someone who hated most people, Harry was a protective son of a bitch. “He’s just got a date today too.”

“I already knew that,” Trent mumbled as he pulled on what looked like Harry’s hooded jumper. “Sapphire told me.”

“With who?” Theo asked.

“Hannah Abbott,” Ron said. “Apparently Susan saw her giggling at something dumb Neville said and thought Hannah liked him, so she told Neville to ask her on a date and he did and she said yes!”

“Pft,” Blaise scoffed and shook his head incredulously. “How on Earth did you and Neville end up with two of the hottest girls in school?”

Ron puffed his chest out and preened. If this wasn’t some big joke, then Blaise wasn’t wrong. Daphne was the hottest girl in their school.

Hannah Abbott, with her rosy cheeks and curly blonde hair, wasn’t ugly, he supposed, but nowhere near Daphne’s league.

...not that Ron was in her league either.

“You don’t think this is a joke, do you?” Ron said, deflating and sounding a bit desperate.

“Could be,” Harry murmured absently while he dug through his trunk. “Who knows?”

And since that wasn’t what he wanted to hear, Ron ignored him and turned to Draco.

“I don’t think Daphne would have asked you out through the mail as a joke,” Draco said bracingly. “If it was meant to be a joke then she would have made it much more public, that’s what I would do anyway.”

“Only one way to know,” Blaise smirked. “Go find your girl, Weasley.”

Ron squared his shoulders and took a few falsely confident steps towards the door when Trent suddenly stopped him.

“Wait!” Trent ran over and handed Ron a little glass bottle of cologne. “Here, spray some of this on. Sirius swears witches love this cologne.”

“Sirius is gay,” Theo said bluntly, “how would he know what witches like?”

“He dated a ton of witches when he was ‘in denial about his sexuality’,” Trent said stubbornly. “He told me so himself and he wouldn’t lie about it.”

Ron shrugged, couldn’t hurt any. He sprayed a bit on his neck and thought it did smell nice. Kind of clean, and manly?

Could cologne smell manly?

“How do I smell?” Ron stretched his neck out.

Trent gave him a peculiar look. “I’m not sniffing you, you fucking creep.”

Ron scowled.

Trent really was turning in to Potter Junior.

“You smell fine,” Draco laughed. He slung his arm over Ron’s shoulder and gave him a bright smile. “Let’s go find your gal.”

Ron and Draco barely made it to the first landing before Harry came rushing out to them with a bouquet of colorful flowers in his hands.

“Here,” he thrust them at Ron with a crooked grin.

“Er...” Ron looked between the flowers and Harry for a moment. “You’re a bit engaged, aren’t you mate?”

And Ron wasn’t really in to blokes.

Not that Harry would be a bad bloke to be with, if he were into them, Harry had brooding and charismatic down to a science. Ron just didn’t much fancy always fearing for his life if he accidentally hurt him in a relationship.

No wonder Fred was a Gryffindor. Nobody that wasn’t brave to the point of stupid could ever be with Harry.

“Idiot,” Harry scoffed. “They’re for you to give Daphne.”

Oh.

Oh.

Ron gave Harry a warm and appreciative smile. “When you and Fred get married, you’re going to be my favorite brother.”

“Ta,” Harry drawled with a roll of his eyes. Ron saw his little pleased smile before he went back to their room though, so he figured he’d said the right thing.

Now he had to do that all day with a smart, funny, gorgeous witch.

“I’m doomed,” Ron whispered to Draco.

“Yeah, but what a way to go,” Draco winked.

Draco ran off to go meet up with Luna, leaving Ron to stand nervously in the common room, with a bouquet of flowers, looking and feeling like a prat.

She probably isn’t coming... She’s probably in her dorm right now laughing with Astoria and Parkinson about the whole thing. ‘That idiot Ron thought I’d want to go with him?!’ I bet they’re all giggling about it now... It’s fine. It’s fine. If it was just a joke, then I’ll just go hang out with...

Ron paused his pacing as he realized all of his friends had dates today.

Harry and Fred. Theo and Hermione. Draco and Luna. Neville and Hannah. Blaise and some Ravenclaw seventh year bloke. Even Trent was going to take Sapphire to meet the girl he saved last May and have lunch with her family.

Susan probably didn’t have a date.

Or, if she did, she probably wouldn’t care if Ron crashed it. Susan didn’t take dates very seriously, not for long anyway.

“Are we going to Hogsmeade or pacing? Because I’d much rather go to Hogsmeade if you’re taking votes.”

Ron looked up and saw that Daphne was standing in the doorway to the girls dorm, smirking at him.

Slytherins were all so smirky.

She looked gorgeous. Gorgeous enough to make Ron’s mouth go dry for a minute. Even if Ron thought he might prefer her in her quidditch gear, he could appreciate the skirt and jumper look too.

“Right.” Ron went to run his hand through his hair, a nervous habit, and paused when he realized he was still holding the flowers Harry gave him. He held them out to her with a strained smile, “Er, these are for you?”

Daphne smiled, Merlin her smile was perfect, and took the flowers from Ron. “Thank you,” she said. “These are lovely. I’m just going to go put them in my dorm real quick, I’ll be right back. Don’t go without me!”

Ron shook his head as Daphne waltzed right back up the staircase.

As if he would go without her.

He did smile a bit more genuinely when she came back down the stairs and gave him a sweet smile and shyly held out her hand.

“Are you ready?”

Was he ever.

Even though the first few minutes were a bit quiet and uncomfortable, Daphne cleared her throat after they left the castle and brought up an easy topic.

“How do you like our odds next weekend?”

Ron relaxed with the easy talk of quidditch and the two of them got in to a heated debate about the chasers strategies on the Gryffindor team for a while.

“Pincer’s Prance isn’t a bad move, necessarily,” Ron said. “It’s just that it’s a bit expected, isn’t it? It’s so popular that it’s one of the first moves chasers learn.”

“There’s a reason it’s so popular though- because it works,” Daphne argued. “Weasley, Thomas, and Bell have been using it a lot in their practices. I just think we should too.”

Ron imagined telling Harry he wanted them to try out the worlds oldest play from the playbook and laughed. “If a move was invented before we were born, Harry won’t use it,” he said.

Daphne rolled their eyes, but waited to say anything else until they were done being prodded by Filch at the gates.

“Then you should step in as assistant captain and tell him we should try it,” she said, easily reclaiming Ron’s hand in hers as they continued their walk. “I’m not saying Harry’s not a brilliant captain, but he made you his assistant for a reason.”

Ron shook his head and gave her a wry smile. “I don’t want to start an argument with him, it’s just not worth it.”

“Why not?”

Ron considered the month after his dad died, when he was miserable and wanted someone else to feel as miserable as he did. And what did he do? Pissed Harry off for no good reason. He went and accused him of being the reason his dad died, when it hadn’t been true at all. Just as Harry tried telling him from the start, because Harry was usually right about most things.

Not all things, mind you, because Harry could be a right git when he wanted to be, but big stuff he usually was.

And nothing was really bigger than quidditch.

“It just isn’t,” he shrugged. They came up to the main strip of Hogsmeade and Ron faltered. They hadn’t even talked about where they would go.

Would she want to go to that weird little tea shop? Should he take her to the Three Broomsticks?

Why didn’t he ask anyone where to take her before they got here?! Hermione, at least, would have had some ideas for him!

“Well... what do you wanna do?” he asked Daphne.

Daphne smiled and shrugged, a casual movement that she made look effortless and beautiful. “What do you usually do?”

Ron had a sudden memory of borrowing Harry’s invisibility cloak last year and going with Neville to the Shrieking Shack to scare students as they took turns sneaking up behind them and screaming in their ears.

That didn’t sound like the sort of thing you admit to someone as graceful and mature as Daphne.

“Er, just hang out,” he said sheepishly. “We can just walk for a bit, if you want?”

“Sure,” Daphne said agreeably.

They were walking past Honeydukes, when Ron spotted Trent inside and let out a quiet snicker.

“Did you hear about Trent?” he asked her.

Daphne glanced over at where Ron had been looking and shook her head, her blonde hair catching the sunshine and glimmering as she did. “You mean how PJ saved a little girls life?” she grinned.

“PJ?”

“Potter Junior, that’s what Astoria and I call him.”

Ron laughed, his first real laugh since their date started, and unknowingly squeezed her hand for an instant. “That’s perfect,” he told her. “‘PJ’, I’ll have to start calling him that.”

Daphne looked pleased with herself and tilted her head conspiratorially towards Ron’s as they walked. He got a whiff of the nicest perfume he’d ever smelled before, it was somehow flowery and smelled a bit like the Burrow did around Christmas time.

“Astoria is in some classes with him and she said that Harry’s been teaching him wandless magic,” she whispered. “I think she has a little crush on PJ.”

“Poor girl, Trent’s gone for a bir- er- girl from Gryffindor. Sapphire, that girl that played cards with us on Halloween.”

“Really?” Daphne tapped one of her nails to her pink lips, drawing Ron’s attention to the black paint on her perfectly polished nails. “Well, I might have to kill Sapphire then. Astoria talks about PJ all the time.”

Ron chuckled again. “Are you and Astoria close then?”

Ron wasn’t really close to any of his siblings, but they had all been in Gryffindor and didn’t really like the same things he did. Bill was alright, decent at chess when he sat down to play, and the Twins were mad about quidditch, but that was it.

“Very,” Daphne said emphatically. “Astoria’s my very best friend. Astoria and my mother are really the only two people I have in my life.”

“Not your dad?” Ron asked.

Daphne frowned and ducked her head a bit. “No,” she said softly. “He died the year before I started Hogwarts.”

“Oh.” Ron gave her a sympathetic look and squeezed her hand. “Mine died last year.”

“I know, I heard about it.” Daphne gave him a sad smile. “It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed quietly. “It is.”

The air felt heavy between them for a minute so Ron cleared his throat and looked around quickly for a distraction. “Do you want to get a drink? We can pop in to the Hog’s Head if you want.”

“The Hogs Head?” Daphne laughed, dispelling the heavy air around them. “Not the Three Broomsticks?”

“We can go there, if you’d rather,” Ron said quickly. “It’s just that Abeforth, the bloke that runs the Hog’s Head, is our friend, so we all try and give him some business when we’re in the village.”

Otherwise, he probably wouldn’t be so careless about serving them lager. And he might start reporting them when they showed up at times they weren’t supposed to.

“I’ve never been in there before.” Daphne eyed the rundown pub curiously. “Let’s see what it’s all about then, Weasley,” she winked.

Ugh.

Ron was going to be replaying that wink for the rest of the day.

The two of them entered the Hog’s Head, and Ron almost turned right back around to leave.

Okay, so, Daphne didn’t ask him out as a joke, apparently, but that didn’t mean the universe wasn’t working against him. Because the very last person Ron wanted to see when he was hand-in-hand with a gorgeous girl on his first real date, was sitting in a booth and immediately spotted him.

“Ronnikins!” Fred waved at him with a shit eating grin that reminded Ron of every time he’d ever grinned and offered him a treat right before Ron’s skin broke out in boils or some other horrifying thing. “Yoohoo! Ronnie!”

“Kill me now,” Ron mumbled, his ears already turning a hot red.

“Isn’t that your brother and Harry?” Daphne asked, giving Ron an odd look when he didn’t step any further in the pub.

“It isn’t if we pretend he’s not here,” Ron whispered. “I think if we don’t move, he might forget we’re here.”

Daphne gave him an incredulous look and stepped towards Fred and Harry, pulling Ron along since he refused to let go of her hand.

“Don’t you want to sit with your brother?”

There was no good way to explain how Ron was positive that Fred would go out of his way to embarrass him without admitting that Ron was a rather embarrassing bloke in the first place, so he just sighed and let her lead him to the table.

“Hello,” Daphne said brightly to Fred and Harry. “Mind if we join you?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Fred grinned. “Here,” he ducked beneath the table and popped back up next to Harry. “Have a seat.”

Daphne slid in the booth, leaving Ron to sit across from Harry.

“What are you guys up to?” Harry asked as he hastily put away a parchment he’d been scribbling on.

Ron would have to ask him about it later.

It was probably something illegal and brilliant and fun.

“We were just walking around,” Ron shrugged. “What about you two?”

“Harry and I were just here, having a drink, on our date,” Fred said airily. “And I had just been thinking to myself, what could make this day even better? And then, tada! Here you are!”

“Riiiight,” Ron said disbelievingly. If his appearance made Fred’s day better, it meant he was about to embarrass the hell out of him.

He should probably get Daphne a drink before Fred could get started.

“Do you want a drink?” Ron asked her politely.

“I’d love one,” Daphne smiled. “Whatever you’re having is fine, thank you.”

Ron glanced at Fred and Harry’s full glasses and got to his feet. “I’ll be right back,” he said threateningly to Fred. “Two minutes.”

Then Ron practically sprinted to the bar counter where he quickly asked Abeforth for two bottles of butterbeer while he kept looking over his shoulder at their booth.

Fred could ruin his whole date in less than a minute, he was certain of it.

Ron fished a few coins out for Abeforth, overpaying for the drinks just a tad, and rushed back to the table with the bottles.

“What’d you talk about while I was gone?” Ron immediately asked Fred, his eyes narrow and his tone suspicious.

“In the whole ninety seconds you were gone? Not much,” Harry said.

“That does remind me though...” Fred gave Daphne a charming grin that Ron bristled at. “Did Ron ever tell you about his love of spiders?”

“Ugh,” Daphne shuddered and gave Ron a pinched look. “Do you really love spiders? They creep me out.”

By Merlin, she was perfect.

Fred tried a few more times to embarrass Ron, but Harry thankfully stepped in.

“Knock it off,” Harry scowled at Fred. “Ron’s been thinking this date was a joke to start with.”

Did Ron say thankfully? Because he’d rather have had Harry say nothing actually.

“This was a joke?” Daphne asked quietly. Her face went hard, a cold mask overcoming her previously soft and friendly features. “I’ll just be going then.”

“No, wait!” Ron grabbed her hand and blocked her from leaving the booth. “I thought you were joking, about wanting to come with me. Not that I was joking. I just- er- well I didn’t think you’d really want to go out with me.”

Daphne gave him a considering look before slowly sitting back down. “Why would I ask you out as a joke? I thought-” her cheeks turned a little pink, “I thought you liked me last year, but you never said anything.”

“I was going to!” Ron protested, ignoring his brother and Harry who were shamelessly gawking at the two of them. “I planned on sending you a box of chocolates and asking if you wanted to meet up over the summer, but- er- I got a bit distracted at the end of the year and forgot.”

“Really?”

“He’s not lying,” Harry said coolly from his spot. “He said he needed to buy something from Honeydukes, but we got attacked by death eaters, didn’t we? Not much time for romance, to be honest.”

“If there had been, I would have found it,” Fred added, actually helpfully.

For possibly the first time in Ron’s entire life ever.

“I’m sorry,” Daphne frowned at Ron. “I’m really messing up our date, aren’t I?”

“Not at all,” Ron said with a quick and easy smile. “I think we’ve already established the most important part: neither of us are here as a joke, eh?”

Daphne gave him a cheery (perfect) smile and nodded timidly. “Neither of us are here as a joke,” she agreed. Then she raised one of her brows and her smile turned in to more of a playful smirk, “Were you really going to buy me chocolates? I thought you wouldn’t prescribe to those old pureblood courting rituals.”

“That’s our cue to leave, darlin,” Fred laughed. “C’mon, we have a man to see about some firearms. Toodles Ronnie, the girl Ronnie tricked in to going out with him.”

Ron lifted his hand in farewell as Harry and Fred dropped a handful of gold in Abeforth’s jar and took off.

All in all, Fred could have done much more damage. He probably would have, if Harry hadn’t been with him.

“Firearms?” Daphne asked curiously. “What’s that mean?”

“It means there’s about to be a bloody big row in our dorm,” Ron sighed as he considered Theo’s well-known, and well-deserved, aversion to guns.

Harry had been going on a bit lately about buying a bunch of guns ‘for the gang’, but Ron thought he’d just been taking the mickey out of Theo.

Theo was going to lose his mind when he realized Harry was bloody serious.

Daphne looked curious, but she let it drop and they changed the subject to something more light-hearted.

Even without Harry and Fred as a buffer, the conversation flowed easily between them. It was almost like hanging out with Draco or Neville really. They talked about their classes, commiserating over the difficulty of nonverbal spells. They laughed about the way Slughorn fawned over Harry in potions (‘he’ll be popping the question any day now’ Daphne said). They argued over the best team in the quidditch league, Daphne said it was the Wimbourne Wasps, and Ron realized that nobody could be absolutely perfect. And, at some point, Ron hesitantly described the battle from May.

“Wow,” Daphne sighed when Ron was done. “No wonder you forgot to ask me out. You guys were very brave!”

Ron was still preening over that comment when they finished their second drink and were walking slowly back up to the castle.

“This was nice,” Daphne said softly as they lingered on the steps of the castle. The sun was setting behind her, causing her hair to glow a warm orange color, and Ron was so distracted by it that he nearly missed the next words out of her mouth. “Would you like to go out again sometime?”

It took him an embarrassingly long moment to realize she was waiting for an answer.

“God yes,” he breathed. Then he blushed and cleared his throat. “I mean, er, if you want to?”

Daphne laughed, as if Ron had been funny instead of mortifyingly dense. She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed the edge of his mouth gently. “I’d love to,” she whispered.

By the time Ron walked Daphne down to the dungeons and escaped to his dorm, he flopped on his bed and touched the spot on his mouth where her lips had actually touched his.

Blaise’s bed curtains were pulled tight around his bed, but he peeked his head out and grinned at Ron. “Good date, then?”

“A perfect date,” Ron sighed with a goofy smile.

“Excellent. Piss off though, would you? I’ve only got about an hour before everyone else gets back and I have unfinished business I’m dealing with.”

Ron sat up and lost his smile as he realized he could hear someone else whispering behind Blaise’s curtains.

“Bloody hell!” he yelped. Ron tripped over his own feet in his haste to leave the dorm, and nearly knocked Draco and Theo over as they came up the stairs. “Don’t go in there!” he warned them.

Theo scowled and rubbed a weary hand down his face. “Blaise or Harry?”

“Blaise.”

Draco sighed and tossed the shopping bag he had in his hands in front of the dorm door. “We’ll give him thirty more minutes, then I’m throwing stink pellets in the room.”

“We have one damn rule, no sex in our dorm, how hard is it to go to the Ravenclaw rooms?” Theo grumbled as they trooped down the stairs together. “Harry’s going to be livid if he gets back and Blaise’s flavor of the week is still there.”

“Speaking of which...” Ron gave Theo a nervous smile as the three of them settled on a sofa in front of the fire. “I ran in to Harry today, with Fred...”

Theo already looked irritated, his brown eyes were flashing dangerously as Ron hesitated. “Spit it out, Ron.”

“Guns,” Ron blurted. “I think they’re buying guns.”

Ron had never heard Theo curse so vehemently, or so creatively before, but he listened to him with wide eyes and made little hums of agreement even as his hand kept reaching up to touch the spot where Daphne kissed him.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, November 12

Harry’s brows were drawn low as he slowly read and reread the pompous card that Sevvie brought him this morning.

Harry and friends,
I would be delighted if you would all agree to come have tea with myself and few other students on Friday evening. If you are agreeable, perhaps arrive at my office at six o’clock?
Sincerely,
Professor Horace J. Slughorn

”Wazz that?” Ron asked through a mouthful of food as he noticed Harry’s preoccupation with the note.

Susan snatched it from Harry’s hands, as he figured she would, and read it quickly before letting out a quiet laugh.

“Oh no,” she groaned playfully, a happy twinkle in her eyes. “We’ve all been invited to the Slug Club!”

“The Slug Club?” Blaise asked. “Is that what he’s calling it?”

“I thought it was the Harry Potter Appreciation Club,” Theo smirked.

“We’re all invited?” Trent asked incredulously. “Why??”

“Probably because Harry told Slughorn he’s going to be the next Minister of Magic,” Hermione said teasingly. “You guys weren’t there,” she told Neville, Blaise, and Susan, “but I promise you Slughorn might as well have adopted or proposed to Harry on the spot. He is positively enamored with our Harry here.”

“That’s gross, Mione,” Harry scowled at the memory. It had been an innocent enough remark, Slughorn had asked Harry if he thought about getting a potions mastery like Snape had, and Harry said that he didn’t think he’d have time seeing as he would be running the country. And... and Slughorn did actually look a bit like he’d won some sort of grand prize as he stumbled and stared at Harry in open mouthed shock. “He can’t fuckin adopt me or marry me.”

Can he?

No.

It was daft to even worry about.

Everyone knew Snape was his guardian, and Slughorn himself had been a witness to see Snape best Harry in their duel. And you couldn’t marry someone against their will, so...

So that was a mad thing for Hermione to say and a ridiculous worry to have.

Slughorn just liked knowing famous people.

“Reckon he’ll beg Snape or Fred for Harry?” Ron asked the others with a grin. He speared a kipper on his fork and pointed it up towards the staff. “I say Snape.”

Harry’s eyes flicked up to the head table, searching Snape’s out. And, even though Snape had no way of knowing what they were discussing, he still raised a brow at Harry in a very ’don’t be ridiculous’ type of way.

“I’m not going,” Harry said firmly. “Slughorn just wants to be on my good side so he can brag about knowing me when I’m the Minister.”

In a move so smooth that Harry later decided it had to have been pre-planned, all his friends turned and looked at Luna.

And Luna gave Harry a bright smile.

“No,” he said as sternly as he could. “No, not even for you, Lue. I fell for it last year, I’m not doing it again.”

“I was only going to say that I think Professor Slughorn is very nice, even if he isn’t as good as Professor Snape,” Luna said with a little hurt pout. “No reason to be so rude.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry sighed and offered Luna a small smile. “I thought you were going to try and guilt trip me in to joining the ‘Slug Club’.”

“Guilt trip you?” Luna’s eyes were wide and deceptively innocent. “Harry, I would never do that to you. Even though you did cancel the only club I ever got to be a part of...”

Draco snickered before quickly adopting a mask of solemnity. “I’m sure he didn’t do it just to hurt you, Luna,” he said. He wrapped an arm around Luna’s shoulders and gave Harry a baleful look. “Even if your feelings were dreadfully hurt... I’m sure that wasn’t exactly his intentions.”

Harry was positive he was being played.

Almost 100% positive.

But there was a little pleading look in Luna’s eyes.

“Lue, you literally told me that you were fine with me cancelling the club,” Harry reminded her desperately. “You said you wanted to focus on your OWLS, remember? Maybe apply for that mastery program in potions?”

“I remember,” Luna nodded slowly. “But then you’ve been having secret club meetings with only Trent, and I’ve felt very left out and truthfully, Harry, I think this is the way to make it up to me.”

Harry had not been ‘leaving her out’. It was just that Luna was already a brilliant witch and Trent needed to know how to kill a man with a knife.

It was common sense.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her.

Luna blinked slowly.

Harry scowled.

Luna smiled.

“What are the nargles’ odds that I give in?” Harry growled through a clenched jaw.

“Oh there’s no doubt,” Luna let out a tinkling laugh. “We’re all going on Friday and it will be so fun.”

Harry doubted that it was going to be ‘so fun’, but he did believe that he would be there.

Because Luna was a shameless manipulator.

“How did you avoid Slytherin?” Theo asked her with no small amount of admiration in his voice.

“I just asked the Sorting Hat to put me in Ravenclaw,” Luna said airily.

“You asked it for Ravenclaw?” Hermione asked, scandalized.

“Mhmm.”

“Why?” Draco asked. “You could have been in our house this whole time??”

“Oh, I could never, I look much better in blue than I do green.”

Harry didn’t know if it was due to Luna’s green tie she wore, one of Draco’s he was certain, or because of the very serious way she said it, but the rest of them started cracking up with laughter loud enough to draw a lot of curious stares.

Harry hissed at them, causing the curious faces to blanch and turn away, which only increased the laughter of his friends.

Harry considered Slughorn that morning while they began the second stage in brewing Polyjuice. He didn’t really seem like much of a creep, even if he was suspiciously interested in Harry. In fact, the way he talked about her, Harry wondered if Slughorn had a bit of a crush on his mum. But Slughorn also had nothing Harry wanted. There was no reason to play nice and let him brag one day to his future students about having Harry Potter in his posh little club.

At least, there wasn’t any reason, until dinner that night.

“Look who decided to show up,” Susan murmured to Harry.

Harry followed her glare and saw that Dumbledore was once more at the head table. A rarity, as he’d been as frequently absent from meals as Snape himself had been recently. Harry and Susan had thought that Dumbledore had been accompanying Snape on his secret ‘I’ll tell you in due time’ trips, but Snape said he wasn’t, and he wasn’t a liar. Harry watched with his head tilted curiously as Dumbledore and Slughorn chatted on happily, seeming to be the very best friends. Then Slughorn turned his head, took a sip of his tea, and made a face.

Nothing major.

Just a little downtick of his lips.

But Harry saw it.

And suddenly Slughorn seemed much more tolerable than he had before.

“Ya know,” Harry said thoughtfully, “I think I haven’t been fair to Slughorn after all. He’s got good instincts, doesn’t he?”

“Does he?” Theo asked skeptically.

“Yeah.” Harry watched as Slughorn seemed to intentionally turn a little bit to talk with Sirius instead of resuming his conversation with Dumbledore. “He does.”

Anyone that wasn’t in Dumbledore’s fan club was certainly welcome to join his.

It was with this newfound appreciation for Slughorn that Harry and his friends trooped to his office on Friday evening.

Since Binns didn’t use it, and Snape wouldn’t give his up, Slughorn took over the History of Magic office.

Except...

Harry walked in and looked around the room with a curious brow raised.

He was pretty sure the office had never been this big, nor this lavishly decorated, when Binns had it.

Slughorn had stretched the inner dimensions surely to the bursting point as the room was larger than most classrooms. He also must have a preference for purple, as the carpet was the same plush purple color as the heavy drapes over the windows. There were probably half a dozen little round tables with white table cloths and red cushioned chairs surrounding them.

As soon as Harry’s group made it past the entryway, a Hogwarts elf in a clean white robe with a wide toothy smile popped up.

“Will’s you be wanting some drinks?” it asked politely.

Harry squinted at it and tried to remember which elf it was. “No thanks, Mags,” he said once he was certain of her name. “Maybe later, yeah?”

“This is tacky,” Blaise snickered beside Harry as Mags gave them a smile and an odd little bow before popping off again. “Oh, God, and he invited Macmillan!”

Harry and Susan smiled in unison as they spotted Ernie Macmillan, a sixth year Hufflepuff student they had never gotten along with, chatting up Slughorn.

“We’ll just go say hi to...” Hermione trailed off and rolled her eyes as she realized Harry and Susan, closely followed by Trent, Draco, and Luna, were already walking over to Slughorn and Macmillan.

“Harry!” Slughorn’s cry caused Macmillan to spin around and grimace at Harry behind Slughorn’s back. “You made it!”

“Of course, sir,” Susan smiled sweetly. “Have you met our friends? This is Professor Black’s cousin, Draco, Luna Lovegood, and Harry’s godbrother Trent Bailey.”

Harry smiled blandly as Slughorn forgot all about Macmillan and made a big deal over Draco and Luna. Susan really was a genius, reframing Draco’s relatives to include Sirius, who Slughorn seemed to love, instead of his father, who was still in Azkaban as an apparent death eater.

“Godbrother, hmm?” Slughorn peered at Trent. “Are you sure you’re not related to the Potter line somewhere? You look quite a bit like Harry here and his father James.”

“Pretty sure,” Trent said in a careless drawl he’d picked up from Blaise. “My parents are muggles, sir.”

“Nothing wrong with that at all!” Slughorn said quickly with a smile. “I’m starting to think some of the best witches and wizards are!”

Harry’s smile sharpened a little; apparently Slughorn didn’t forget that Harry called him a bigot in his second class.

Slughorn turned to Harry after chatting with Trent for a minute and gave him a happy smile. “I didn’t think you’d come,” he said. He moved to put an arm over Harry’s shoulder, but Harry spotted the movement and stepped closer to Susan, preventing it.

“Absolutely we came, sir,” Harry said with all his usual charms the professors enjoyed having on display. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Sirius seemed to think you wouldn’t be interested in joining my little club,” Slughorn said with a small grin and a shake of his head. “I personally think he’s just still upset that I never invited him when he was a student.”

Susan giggled a little and nodded her head. “I’m sure he is,” she winked teasingly.

“Why didn’t you invite Sirius?” Harry asked curiously. He looked around and took a quick measure of the students in the room. Even though Harry’s group made up the majority in attendance, the others were all ones that Harry was certain were either academically gifted or had famous or powerful relatives.

And Sirius had both when he was a student. A ‘noble’ lineage, and a knack for transfiguration and defense both.

“Between us,” Slughorn said, lowering his voice and leaning towards Harry and Susan, “Sirius and your father, James, were just more trouble than they were worth. I couldn’t have them here and risk them poisoning the punch, eh?”

Trent and Harry exchanged quick knowing smirks while Susan laughed.

That actually sounded exactly like something fucking daft Sirius would pull.

“Your mother though,” Slughorn sighed and got that wistful look on his face he always had when he brought up Lily Potter, “I didn’t play favorites, of course, but if I did, she would have been mine. I’ve never met a better person than Lily Potter.”

Harry tried to smile, but it felt a bit more like a grimace so he dropped it quickly and blinked until he felt more aloof.

“Hmm,” he said, “that’s what I hear.”

That’s all he ever heard.

Lily Evans Potter was brilliant, fierce, kind, and an upstanding citizen who died to protect her son.

Lily Evans Potter had strong moral beliefs and set the bar high for her friends.

Lily Evans Potter never forgave Snape for calling her a mudblood and becoming a death eater.

And Harry was mostly positive that she would have despised the person her son grew to be.

Draco, terrific friend that he was, must have sensed Harry’s discomfort because he stepped up and distracted Slughorn nearly at once as he began asking questions about the photos on the man’s office wall.

Harry gave him a grateful nod and slipped away towards the table full of drinks with Luna skipping alongside him.

“Loads of fun?” Harry accused her.

“I may have been wrong, just this once,” Luna hummed. She plucked up a delicate flute filled with sparkling gillywater and took a long drink, as if it wasn’t the nastiest thing Harry had ever tasted.

“I’m gonna write this down,” Harry joked half-heartedly. “Friday, November 14th, 1996; Luna Lovegood was wrong.”

“Technically I was wrong on Wednesday, November 12th,” Luna laughed. “We should make it an annual tradition. Every year I’ll just be wrong about something positively horrifying, deal?”

“Deal,” Harry agreed. He watched the room for a moment before Luna’s arm slipped around his.

“You don’t want to be here,” Luna said softly. “We can go. Play cards in your dorm, or something else.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Harry lied. He tilted his head until it touched Luna’s for a moment. Luna was a good friend, offering to leave when Harry knew she wanted to fit in to this club of students. Harry knew he was lucky to have her. “Love you though, Lue.”

“Do you?” Luna tilted her head up and her lips were parted and her eyes were suddenly wide.

Which wasn’t at all how Susan, Fred, or Snape reacted when Harry said it to him. He scuffed the carpet with the toe of his boot for a moment as he tried to understand her reaction.

“Er, yeah? But if you don’t want me to, then I can take it back?”

“No, don’t,” Luna said. She smiled brightly, little dimples popping out in her cheeks as her entire expression shifted to something full of joy. “You’ve just never told me that before. I, of course, love you more than anyone in the entire world.”

Harry was saved from responding to that very genuinely spoken response that caused his neck to feel hot by a loud scoff behind them. Harry and Luna turned together and saw Ginny Weasley glaring at Harry with her arms crossed.

Honestly, Harry regrets almost every day not just killing her in Slytherin’s Chamber.

“What so Fred isn’t here and you’re just going to flaunt your- your indiscretion in front of everyone?” Ginny demanded.

It took Harry a minute to place the word ‘indiscretion’ in the context of the sentence she used, and once he did, he rolled his eyes.

“You should go tell Fred I’m cheating on him,” Harry said very seriously, toying with the idiot girl for a minute. “Make sure he knows it’s with Luna, he’s going to be really shocked.”

“He’ll be positively heartbroken,” Luna sighed, playing right along. “Poor Fred.”

“Poor Fred,” Harry agreed.

Ginny looked between the two of them and seemed to falter as she couldn’t place why they looked so terribly amused. “I just heard you say you loved each other,” she said, sounding a little unsure now.

“I used to love you too,” Luna told her, a true note of sadness in her voice now. “I thought we would be best friends forever, but you’re not very nice to Harry.”

“Because Harry is a dangerous scumbag,” Ginny hissed, causing a few nearby students to turn curious eyes in their direction. “I don’t know why nobody else sees it!”

Harry was pretty sure a lot of people knew he was dangerous, scumbag was a bit much though.

“I don’t even know why you’re here,” Harry told her coolly. He looked her over top to bottom, slowly, and smirked. “You’re not very intelligent, obviously, and your closest claim to fame is your future brother-in-law. Oh,” Harry shook his head, as if suddenly remembering, “I suppose Bill is pretty successful, isn’t he? And Ron’s already a rather well-known hero and genius. The twins have the most popular shop in Diagon Alley, Charlie’s...” Harry paused for a split-second, unsure what to say about Charlie.

“The top dragon tamer in Romania,” Luna said airily. “A true expert in his field.”

“Right,” Harry nodded at her. “So, nevermind, guess you got here on their coattails, didn’t you?”

Harry didn’t mention Percy, but Fred liked to pretend he didn’t exist at all, which was fine with Harry because Percy was an arse.

Harry only had a second to enjoy Ginny’s bright red cheeks before she pulled her wand and sent some silently cast dark green spell aimed right at his head. Harry ducked, causing whatever it was to hit and shatter something behind him, and quickly stunned her.

“Might have taken that too far,” Harry murmured to Luna while Ginny was frozen in place.

“Mm, I don’t think so,” Luna whispered. “Her bat-bogey hexes are supposed to be terrible.” She glanced around at the crowd that was now surrounding them and tilted her head up towards the ceiling for a moment. “But three students are about to tell Slughorn that you started it.”

“What is going on here?” Slughorn asked disbelievingly as he strode through the students that parted to let him pass. “Harry? Ginny? Luna?” Slughorn looked between where Harry and Luna were standing with their arms still intertwined and where Ginny was frozen in place. “Someone explain!”

“Potter was taunting Ginny and then stunned her,” the tall blonde boy from the train, McLaggen, said immediately.

“Is that true, Harry?” Slughorn sounded disappointed as he waved his wand lazily towards Ginny, releasing her from Harry’s stunner.

“No, sir,” Harry said calmly. “Ginny misunderstood a conversation between Luna and myself and sent a spell at me and I stunned her to prevent a fight from escalating.”

Technically, he stunned her to keep her from pissing him off while there was an audience around.

But that wasn’t a technicality he cared to explain.

“He’s lying,” a Gryffindor girl that Harry didn’t recognize said hotly. “He was making fun of her family.”

“How d’you figure that?” Ron scoffed, somehow materializing from the crowd and stepping up beside Harry. “I heard Harry just compliment every single one of my brothers.”

“Of course you’d take his side,” Ginny glared at Ron. “Wake up Ron, he’s using you.”

“What?” Harry laughed. He turned to Ron and gave him a grave look. “Ron, I’m using you, mate. It’s just... I needed a red headed male friend, and you were clearly the only one that fit the bill.”

A lot of people laughed, including Slughorn, who relaxed in the face of Harry’s calm.

Harry, two, Ginny, zero, he thought smugly.

It took him a while to learn it, but it was a good lesson to know: it didn’t matter who was usually right, all people in authority cared about was who was calm and who wasn’t. The more pissed Ginny got in front of Slughorn, the less inclined he would be to believe her.

“You’re using him for your little fucking army!” Ginny yelled, sounding like a crazy person despite her nearly accurate remark.

Harry wasn’t ‘using’ Ron, but Ron was definitely a Corporal in his army.

He’d be a sergeant, like Fred and Blaise were, if he hadn’t once accused Harry of killing his dad, but those were the breaks.

“Oh, dear.” Slughorn tittered nervously. “Why don’t we call it a night, hmm? It’s getting late, and tensions are running high between our two seekers, aren’t they?”

“You’re absolutely right, Professor,” Harry agreed quickly. He gave Ginny his charming smile that didn’t reach his cold eyes at all. “We can sort this out tomorrow, on the pitch, yeah?”

“What started that?” Draco murmured as Ginny grabbed the hand of the Gryffindor girl and stormed away after sending Harry a last hateful look and Slughorn began escorting students to the door.

“Ginny thought Harry and I were having an affair,” Luna laughed. She linked her empty arm with Draco’s and smiled up at him with just as much joy as she had Harry. “And just so you know, I would probably never.”

Draco smiled, then frowned. “Probably?”

Luna laughed and refused to elaborate as she led them to the doorway. Harry paused, giving his other friends a chance to catch up and gave Slughorn a forced look of sorrow.

“I’m sorry about that, Professor,” he said with just the right amount of regret in his voice. “I don’t think Ginny’s ever quite liked me since I turned her down.”

Slughorn only looked torn for a moment before he gave Harry a jolly smile and patted his shoulder, something Harry forced himself not to shy away from in an effort to not gain another enemy within the castle. “Ah, teenage girls are a mystery to us all, lad,” Slughorn said. “No harm, no foul, I always say. Now, you’ll be attending my little Christmas party next month, won’t you? You can bring along this Fred I’ve heard so much about,” he winked and lowered his voice. “Maybe we’ll let Miss Weasley sit this one out.”

Draco was still complaining as they laid in their beds later that night.

“‘I’d be happy to, sir,’” he mimicked Harry in a truly terrible impression. Harry’s voice was not that nasally and high-pitched. “‘I’ll bring my friends, yeah?’ You prat.”

“I had fun,” Trent piped up behind his bed curtains. “I like Slughorn, he seems like he doesn’t care about much.”

“Shut up, Trent,” Draco sighed.

Harry heard Draco toss and turn in his bed for a few moments and waited patiently for him to correct himself.

“Sorry,” Draco finally said with only a slight sneer to his voice.

“It’s fine,” Trent laughed. “G’night guys.”

Harry waited until the first of the snores began filling the room before he flipped on his stomach and pulled his mirror out. He waved his hand around his head and put up some shields, ensuring his privacy, before calling for Fred.

“Fred Weasley,” he said to his reflection clearly.

It only took a couple seconds for Fred’s face to materialize, replacing Harry’s reflection with his own. “Hey, darlin, how- what’s wrong?”

Harry frowned. “What makes you think somethings wrong?”

“You can’t hide from me,” Fred grinned before looking more serious. “Is something wrong?”

Harry had no idea how he could be good enough at occlumency to keep Timmy from entering his head without Harry’s permission, but so bad at it when it came to a handful of people reading his emotions right off his face.

He thought maybe he just didn’t bother hiding his emotions from some people.

“Bit of a shit day, honestly,” Harry said lightly. “I got in a spat with your sister, she’s going to write to you soon and tell you I’m cheating with Luna, could you act really surprised for me?”

“Oh I’ll love that,” Fred laughed. “‘What?! Harry and Luna?! Does Draco know?! Does this mean Draco is single now?’”

Harry had started to smile, but he stopped pretty quick. “That isn’t funny,” he said.

“It will be when Ginny reads it,” Fred winked. “But I doubt arguing with Gin would really upset you, soooo... what’s really up?”

Harry shook his head. “I might not marry you if you’re going to spend our whole lives making me talk about things.”

“You will,” Fred said confidently, “because you know it makes you feel better afterwards. Quit changing the subject, darlin, what happened?”

“It’s...” Harry hesitated as he tried to put it in words that didn’t sound pathetic. “It’s just... everyone says how my mum, Lily, was such a saint. Just... just a perfect person, apparently. D’you... d’you think she’d regret dying for me if she knew who I am? Like, knew the real me?”

It was embarrassing, saying it out loud like that, but Harry and Fred had much more embarrassing conversations before. This was really nothing in comparison.

Fred didn’t answer right away, his face thoughtful as he mulled over Harry’s question. “I mean, I can’t say for certain, but I don’t think she would,” he said in an uncharacteristically serious voice. “Take my mum, for example. Even though she’s disappointed and hurt by the way Percy treats her, she’d still die for him in a heartbeat, no questions asked. You get a few bad eggs in every coop, but I’m sure your mum would be the same way. So you aren’t some light-hearted hero, who cares? From what I’ve heard, your dad wasn’t either, and she loved him.”

Harry flipped on his back and held the mirror up above his head. “Bit of a difference between being a killer and a prat who bullies students though, isn’t there?”

“A bit,” Fred agreed with a small grin. “But I think your mum would still like you anyway. And I’m positive she still would have chosen to die that night even if she knew her son would turn out to be the brilliant and amazing dark lord that you are,” he winked.

“Hysterical,” Harry said drily. “Your wit knows no bounds.”

Fred laughed loudly at that. “You spend too much time with Theo, you’re starting to sound like him. Tell me about the rest of your day though, did you fly today? What times the match tomorrow?”

Harry filled Fred in on everything that had happened since he last talked to him, last night, and Fred talked about the new items they were developing for the shop. After a while, Harry yawned and rolled on his side.

“Don’t hang up,” he murmured, as was their new ritual.

“I won’t,” Fred promised. “It’ll be like I’m right next to you.”

Harry closed his eyes and listened to Fred’s even breathing, trying to trick his mind in to believing he was actually next to him, and not clear in Shanklin, sleeping in the bed they shared over the summer. After a while, it worked, and Harry drifted off to an uneasy sleep.

The morning of the Gryffindor and Slytherin match gave them perfect weather. Harry could see the cloudless sky and the breeze through the ceiling of the Great Hall, a sight that bolstered his team’s spirits.

“There’s no way we can lose,” Ron said. He shared a look with Blaise and nodded down at the parchment Blaise was tracking for the day. “Our odds are so good that it’s almost not worth betting!”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that,” Harry grumbled, not as optimistic nor as well rested as his teammates.

Susan slid Harry a few sausages and some toast on a plate. “Eat,” she said bossily. “You have to kick Ginevra’s arse today and you won’t do it if you’re tired and hungry.”

It seemed like overnight the entire castle knew about Harry’s relatively mild row with Ginny. He heard a few Slytherins whispering about it in the common room this morning and ignored it. All it was doing was heightening the anticipation for today’s match.

Matches between Slytherin and Gryffindor were always tense, since the two houses tended to not get along much. And today the students were abuzz with conversations and bets on who would come out victorious today:

Ginny Weasley, seeker and captain of the Gryffindor team who never lost to a team aside from Slytherin or Harry Potter, seeker and captain of the Slytherin team who has only lost two matches in his four years as Slytherin’s seeker.

Harry had no idea who would bet against him, he had literally been put on a national team at the end of the last school year, but he figured today was just another snitch to catch, a match to win.

He sent a listless look up to the head table, and did a quick double take when he saw Snape in his usual seat. Which wasn’t actually very usual for Saturday’s. His eyes flicked downwards and saw that Dumbledore was absent, as he almost always was on the weekends now, but Snape was here.

Harry ate the toast Susan kept nudging, his mood lifting slightly.

“We’re going to win, Harry,” Trent beamed at him. He looked over his shoulder at the Gryffindor table and shook his head. “Poor Sapphire.”

“Sapphire is the competition,” Draco told him, “don’t go easy on her just because you think she’s cute, PJ.”

Harry and Trent both scowled at the nickname that seemed to stick. Harry’s scowl was mostly put on though, it wasn’t like he’d ever have kids, so Trent could be Potter Junior if he wanted.

“Piss off,” Trent threw the crust off his toast at Draco.

“This is why they call you PJ,” Hermione said with a dramatic sigh. “Harry you’ve got innocent third years cursing.”

“Harry thinks it’s brill,” Neville grinned.

Harry did think it was brill, so he just shrugged.

“Alright, guys, and girl,” Harry said with a nod towards Daphne. His team was gathered around him in the locker rooms, their quidditch gear on, their brooms gripped tightly, eager expressions on their faces. “I don’t think we need a fancy fuckin speech when we all know we have to do today. Draco, Ron, Daphne, score a bunch of goals. Isaac, Declan, hit the players in red with the bludger, or your bats, I’m not picky. Trent—”

“Don’t let the quaffle in,” Trent piped up.

“Exactly,” Harry nodded. “And I’ll catch the snitch then we’ll go celebrate, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

Harry led his team out on the pitch to some cheers and a lot of boo’s that they easily ignored.

This was probably why Slytherin students were thought to be so aloof and unkind, because they got boo’d by the other houses every single fucking match.

Dicks.

Harry did a double take when he stepped up by Madame Hooch and was faced with McLaggen instead of Ginny.

“Captains! Shake hands!” Hooch yelled.

Harry kept his face cold and uncaring as McLaggen glared darkly at him and seemed to try and break the fingers in his right hand. He had no idea where Ginny was, or why McLaggen wanted to start a pissing match right off the bat, but it wasn’t really his problem at the moment.

He’d catch the snitch, then show McLaggen the proper way to break all the fingers in someone’s fuckin hand.

“Mount your brooms!” Hooch commanded them.

Harry kicked his leg over his Firebolt 100, and sent a pointed smirk at McLaggen’s Nimbus 550.

“GO!”

Harry kicked off immediately, soaring high in the sky and was a blur as he shot towards the Slytherin goal posts, his preferred spot to start his lazy laps as he looked for the snitch.

“Hi Harry!”

Harry glanced curiously towards the commenters box and nearly fell off his broom as he began laughing at Luna’s happy face waving at him from within the box. He did a couple showy flips, acknowledging her, before he started flying around.

He knew Luna told him and Draco that she had a surprise for them today, but he had no idea that she’d taken over Lee Jordan’s position.

At least they might finally have an announcer who was biased in their favor.

“Everyone thought that Ginny wanted to beat Harry’s team today, since she was very rude to him last night, but then she didn’t show up, so I guess she changed her mind,” Luna was saying, her magically amplified voice filling the stadium. “I think she might have been scared, so she sent Cormac McLaggen to take over as captain today instead.”

The Slytherin section of the stands roared with laughed, and Harry heard Ron chortling as he flew by with the quaffle in tow.

“It’s really a great day for quidditch, if you guys look above Trent’s head, you’ll see a cloud shaped exactly like a hummingbird!”

God damnit.

Harry had no idea how it took him five years to let Luna know he loved her, she was the absolute best.

Harry’s team seemed to be flying at their best, certainly better than the Gryffindor team who seemed off-kilter with a second year boy filling in as keeper while McLaggen played seeker. Harry was pretty sure that after nearly an hour, his team was in the lead by quite a bit, but he wasn’t sure because Luna’s commentary had almost nothing to do with the match.

“What’s the score?” Harry shouted at Trent.

Trent threw his hands up in exasperation. “No idea! I missed two goals though, so something to twenty?”

“Don’t miss any more,” Harry told him before zooming off towards the Gryffindor goal posts. “Oi! How many goals have you let in?” he asked the second year kid.

“As if I’d tell you,” the boy snapped, his cheeks turning red.

Probably more than two then.

“Whatever,” Harry scowled. He turned his broom and put a renewed effort in to finding the snitch and having a kind talk with Luna that every now and again, it would be helpful for them to know the actual scores.

McGonagall must have been thinking the same thing Harry was, because Luna’s comments on how red was supposed to be a lucky color was abruptly interrupted.

“70-20 in Slytherin’s favor!” McGonagall yelled with her wand to her throat.

Harry gave her a small salute, then waved quickly at Snape and Sirius, before focusing solely on the snitch.

He was chasing after the thin air, hoping to trick McLaggen in to wasting his time with following him, when McLaggen actually caught him by surprise.

“What’d you do with Ginny, Potter?” he yelled.

Harry pulled on his broom handle, doing an abrupt about face and tilting his head at the older student. “What?” he asked dumbly.

McLaggen flew closer to Harry until their broom handles were nearly touching. “I said, where is Ginny?” he repeated with a heavy scowl. “What? Too scared to play her?”

“What?” Harry actually laughed this time. “I don’t know where Ginny is and I’d win even she were here. You might have missed it, but my team kicked your arses last year, didn’t we?”

“Heard you got kicked off the Arrows though,” McLaggen sneered. His eyes ticked to something behind Harry, but Harry doubted it was the snitch since McLaggen didn’t move towards it. “What happened, Potter? Did they realize you have no talent?”

Harry laughed, a mirthless and cold laugh that wiped a bit of the sneer off McLaggen’s face. “Voldemort killed their owner,” Harry said with a smile. “Tell ya what, Cornick, come find me on the ground after the game and tell me I have no talen—,”

Something heavy struck Harry in the back of his head and he felt himself slipping sideways off his broom as everything went
black,

black,

black.

***

Harry dreamt of a green-eyed woman giving him a kind smile. She held her arms open and Harry instinctively knew that it was safe to move towards her, to let her wrap her arms around him.

The knife she stuck in his back had been a nasty surprise that caused him to wake with a flinch and a gasp.

***

“Calm yourself,” a low and smooth voice said.

Harry moved to the edge of the bed-

Bed?

He squinted his eyes as he patted his pockets for a knife and came up empty.

“Your contacts are here and I switched your clothes with a switching spell, your weapons are in your trousers in your dorm.”

The smooth voice was Snape. Harry squinted at him and snatched the little container out of the hand reaching towards him.

“Ta,” he sighed as he took in his surroundings after the contacts were in. He was in the hospital wing, in a pair of his own pajamas, with Snape by his side. Which meant...

“We fuckin lost, didn’t we?”

“You did not,” Snape said. Harry turned his head towards him and raised his brows in surprise.

Snape smirked at his look. “After you were knocked out by the bludger, your assistant captain called for a timeout, they resumed play with Ronald playing seeker and the boy managed to actually catch the snitch. Slytherin won by 10 points.”

“Holy shit,” Harry breathed. He smiled a little, despite his fiercely aching head and the residual tremble in his hands from his disturbing nightmare. “Ron’s a genius.”

“Indeed,” Snape agreed. “Which brings me to the point you’re about to be interrogated on- Ginevra Weasley.”

Harry gave him a curious look, but Snape wasn’t looking at him. His dark eyes were aimed at a bed a few down from Harry with a girl with long red hair in it. Harry’s finger twitched for an instant before he realized it was Ginny Weasley’s straight red hair, not Susan’s curly red hair.

“Is she dead?” Harry asked.

“She is not, despite someone’s best efforts.”

Harry turned back to Snape at his odd tone and rolled his eyes lightly.

“It wasn’t me.”

Snape didn’t say anything, he just stared Harry in the eyes, seemingly waiting for him to say something else.

“It wasn’t,” Harry said firmly with a scowl. “I don’t fuckin lie to you, do I?”

Snape sat back and his gaze became less intrusive and more casual. “You do not,” he conceded. “Albus may not be so similarly convinced.”

“Why is it every time someone in this fuckin castle gets hurt, Dumbledore blames me?” Harry sneered. “It couldn’t possibly be someone else.”

“You must admit the circumstances are odd.”

Harry’s head turned quickly as Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Sirius entered the hospital wing. Dumbledore obviously must have just heard Harry’s complaint, but he didn’t look too torn up over it. His eyes weren’t twinkling, but they rarely did around Harry since the day he expelled him. Other than that though, he did look calm.

“Circumstances?” Harry asked flatly.

He wouldn’t bother playing ‘Polite, Charming, Harry Potter’ with Dumbledore. Dumbledore wouldn’t believe it and Harry didn’t want him to. Dumbledore wanted Harry dead in May, and Harry of all people knew that murderous urges didn’t disappear, they usually just got worse.

“Miss Weasley was attacked with a combination of the cruciatus curse and a switchblade,” Dumbledore explained, coming to a stop at the foot of Harry’s bed.

Sirius moved over by Snape, taking the empty chair next to him, and McGonagall came to stand on the opposite side of them, her lips flat and her expression skeptical.

“Let me guess, then someone wiped her memory?” Harry asked aloud, his eyes flicking to Snape as he did.

“Precisely,” Dumbledore said. “What do you know of her attack?”

“Nothing,” Harry said truthfully. He narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore distrustfully. “I’m sure you won’t believe me, but I didn’t do a damn thing to her.”

“Language,” Snape murmured. A reminder for Harry to remember who he was speaking to, not just what he was saying, Harry was sure.

Dumbledore peered at Harry for a long moment as he stroked his beard. “I apologize, Mister Potter, can anyone verify your whereabouts this morning around three o’clock?”

Harry clenched his jaw, irritated by the vague questions. “Can anyone verify that I was asleep, alone, in my bed, at three o’clock in the morning? No,” he spat, “I suppose not.”

This really wasn’t Harry’s weekend apparently.

One of the few times he slept alone, and he’s going to be expelled for it.

“I believe Harry,” Sirius said loudly. “I think he’d be a lot smarter than to leave Ginny in the boys bathroom, wouldn’t he? When has Harry ever been known to beat a kid up and dump them in a bathroom?”

Never, actually.

“Harry said he did not do it, and without adequate proof otherwise, I fail to see how he warrants punishment,” Snape said softly. “I’m sure that Miss Weasley has many other enemies within the castle.”

“Many other enemies who got in a fight with her last night?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes still thoughtful as he held Harry’s gaze.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry ground his teeth together. “She thought I was cheating on Fred with Luna, so we had a spat. She tried to hex me, so I stunned her. It wasn’t that big of a deal!”

“That sounds incredibly in character for the both of them,” McGonagall said. “This attack mimics Mister Finnigans quite obviously, and Harry had a solid alibi for that one.”

Harry nodded his head appreciatively at McGonagall’s defense. There used to be a time when he thought she would expel him just as easily as Dumbledore would, but it seemed like they were mates, of a sort, now.

Dumbledore didn’t say anything for a long moment, he just kept staring at Harry, then he finally let out a small breath and nodded his head at him. “I am inclined to believe you,” he said.

As if he wasn’t just handed pretty decent evidence.

“If you know of anyone who is harming the other students, perhaps a knife carrying student with a vengeance against Gryffindor, please inform Professor Snape or one of your other professors, okay?”

Harry jerked his chin upwards, a small nod of acknowledgement, and Dumbledore gave them all a smile and turned to leave the hospital wing.

“Good game today, Harry,” McGonagall said, she put her hand on Harry’s shoulder for an instant, causing him to flinch minutely, before she too turned and followed Dumbledore out the door.

“I didn’t do a damn thing,” Harry scowled up at the ceiling. “Ron had a good game, and McLaggen has a damn reckoning coming. ‘No talent’ he called me.”

“Pup, you can’t threaten the Gryffindor keeper when the chaser and the seeker have both been stabbed in the last month,” Sirius said.

Harry closed his eyes, pretending he didn’t even speak so he didn’t have to acknowledge the truth in his words.

Whoever was attacking the Gryffindor’s wasn’t doing Harry much of a favor, honestly. He wasn’t sure if they meant to or not, but if he figured it out before the teachers did, he’d be sure to ask.

“I’ll just go then,” Sirius chuckled. Harry tightened his muscles as he could sense Sirius reaching out for him. “Poppy said you can leave in the morning, I’ll see you then,” he said as he carefully ruffled Harry’s hair, avoiding the sore spot on the back of Harry’s head.

Harry hummed quietly. He was being petty, he knew that, but he wasn’t much in the mood for anyone’s nonsense right now.

Snape let Harry sit in silence for a few minutes after Sirius’ footsteps receded down the corridor outside the hospital wing, then he cleared his throat lightly.

“Miss Bones and Miss Lovegood told me to tell you that they only left you to your privacy under heavy protests and that the instant you wanted them, they would break in with your cloak.”

The edge of one side of Harry’s lips ticked upwards for a moment, but he just hummed in quiet acknowledgement again.

“Is there something you would like to discuss with me?”

Harry peeked one eye open to look at Snape. He didn’t look angry, but Harry wasn’t going to keep explaining himself over and over.

“I didn’t do it,” he said, closing his eye again. “Get the damn Veritaserum if you want.”

Snape ignored the bite in Harry’s tone and remained annoyingly casual. “I have already said I believe you, and I do. That was not what I was referring to.”

“I don’t know what you want then,” Harry said flatly, “but my head hurts and I’m going to go to sleep.”

He wasn’t. But he did want left alone.

“I was referring to your apparently quite terrible nightmare.”

Harry jerked upright and turned a blank mask to Snape. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I didn’t have a terrible nightmare.”

Snape’s brows rose up on his forehead. “Oh? Because you were thrashing and crying out.”

“No I wasn’t,” Harry grit out, his temper waging war with his embarrassment. “If I was, I don’t want to talk about it though.”

“Very well,” Snape said easily. “Though, if you would like to discuss why you were crying out your mothers name in your sleep, I am always here to listen.”

Harry hid a wince as he let his head slam back on the headboard of the bed. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to force himself to fall in to an immediate sleep. He inhaled slowly, counting to five, then let it out as he counted to seven. He repeated the cycle a few times before he felt in firm control of himself once more.

“She would hate me,” Harry whispered. “My mum,” he clarified, “she would hate me.”

“You are wrong.”

Harry wasn’t.

The woman who sneered in the face of Timmy and joined Dumbledore’s Order and fought against people who used the same ‘dark magic’ that Harry wielded so easily and carelessly would absolutely hate him.

He wouldn’t change, doubted he could if he even bothered to try. Harry knew he was a dick, he was selfish, could be cruel and vindictive, he was a hypocrite when the situation suited him, and went out of his way to manipulate others to meet his goals more easily. Harry knew all that, he spent a whole summer discussing his behavior with Lupin. Lupin dressed it up, said Harry was a ‘product of his past’ and that Harry ‘had a good heart’, and could ‘be whoever he wanted to be as long as he liked himself’, but Harry knew who he was. And he knew that the more he heard about Lily Potter, the more certain he was that she would hate him.

Harry swallowed loudly. “I don’t want to talk about her ever again,” he told Snape with his eyes still closed. “I don’t even want to hear her name. If anyone asks, I’m saying you’re my only parent.”

Snape sighed quietly, but he pressed a cool vial in Harry’s hands too. “Drink,” he said softly. “Sleep and we will discuss this at a later time, Harry.”

Harry threw the potion back without even looking at it, certain that Snape wouldn’t poison him, and slipped peacefully in to a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Tuesday, November 18

Albus apparated at the edge of Hogsmeade, still hidden beneath the heavy disillusionment charm he applied before leaving Little Hangleton.

Another day, another disappointment.

Albus pondered his current predicament as he enjoyed the cool night air and slowly made his way to his brother’s pub.

It was obvious that the Gaunt Shack bore signs of heavy, clinging, thick, dark magic having been there before. It had been the first thing Albus noticed when he appeared there on an earlier investigation. The magic was still there when Albus returned this evening, prepared to clear it away and enter the shack, but it had already been partially cleared.

Whoever did it, did not have the skill or strength to remove the magic altogether, but they were clever enough to burrow out a clear path, an entrance, so to speak, allowing them safe entry to the shack.

The empty shack.

And now Albus was left with a curious question...

Had the shack always been empty, had Tom removed the horcrux Albus believed it once housed, or... most disturbingly... had someone already began the quest that Albus was now on?

“You look tired,” Abe grunted as he slid Albus a bottle of the nonalcoholic lager he pretended he didn’t stock solely for Albus.

“I am,” Albus admitted softly. He spun the bottle in his hands and let out a quiet chuckle when he saw Abe’s tip jar. “And you look as if business has never been better.”

Abe peered at his brother with the same squinting look of distrust he’s aimed his way for the last sixty years. “Been decent,” he admitted. He grabbed his dishcloth and began wiping down the already clean glasses in front of him, a nervous tendency to fidget with nearby objects when he’s nervous that he’s always had.

There had been a day when Albus could look at his brother and ask him very firmly if he had been coloring in his books, and Abe would stare up defiantly at him and say no.

Then he would twist the hem of his blouse in his hands and Albus would go crying to their mother.

“Minerva will come down on you if she discovers you’re selling liquor to students,” Albus warned him lightly, a small smile lifting his lips despite his rather morose mood. “You remember what she did last time.”

Abe’s eyes ticked towards the hole in his ceiling, the one that had to be danced around if you rented the room above it, and the one that Albus was certain only remained because Abe had been begrudgingly impressed with Minerva’s fiery temper and protective nature for the children.

“Maybe you should keep a better handle on your students then,” Abe said. “It’s not my fault if they come in here looking for a drink and a place to chat.”

Albus took a long drink and thought of the recent students of Hogwarts. The muggleborns too scared to return, the students who had recently lost a parent or other loved one, a young set of sisters who he had to inform that their brother had been killed by Greyback. He thought of the ones who had been injured recently and had their memories erased, and he thought of the student who had an invisible axe hanging over his neck.

All the supervision in the world couldn’t save these children from the horrors of a war he had hoped they would never have to face.

“Maybe we should,” Albus agreed softly. He pushed his half empty drink and a handful of coins across the counter and gave his brother a rueful smile. “Goodnight, Abe.”

Abeforth didn’t respond, he just nodded his head and watched his brother with thoughtful and worried eyes as he slowly left the pub, just as despondently as he had entered it.

Albus watched the castle become larger and larger as he approached it. The full moon lighting behind the castle made him as nostalgic as did the couples he could hear giggling on the grounds. He remained disillusioned, loathe as he was to ruin the youthful dalliances that were so rare for so many of his students. It truly broke his heart, as he considered the worries and the weights that so many of these children carried.

The children who have already lost loved ones in both wars, such as the Weasley’s. They lost a lively duo in their uncles, the Prewett Twins, in the first war against Tom and recently lost a good man in the current war.

The children who lost a family member for the first time in this war. Young Mark Montgomery, only five years old and stolen away one night and torn apart by Greyback and left on the steps of his parents home. Albus had to blink away his own heavy tears as Anna and Marie Montgomery sobbed in their fathers arms when he came to Hogwarts to tell them.

The children who had parents supporting Tom, despite their children’s beliefs, such as young Draco. Draco had chosen to not follow his fathers footsteps, a difficult and admiral choice to make, and yet he was punished by disinheritment from a man Albus was sure Draco loved dearly.

There were also children who did choose to follow their parents dark footsteps, as Vincent and Gregory had chosen to do. It was cruel of Tom to mark children so young, scar them for life, yet it was not a new tactic of his. Albus only had to think of Severus to recall the many students in the first war against Tom who had once proudly brandished his mark.

Severus.

Albus sighed heavily as he cast a wistful look towards the dungeon entrance before turning towards the staircase to his own office and sleeping quarters.

There used to be a day when Albus and Severus had been as close as Albus was with Minerva. Severus used to put on a big show of impatience when Albus requested he join him for tea, but then he would shoot unsubtle looks towards the chessboard until they would inevitably spend a few hours playing and chatting about a wide variety of topics easily.

But that had been years ago now.

Severus saw the side of Albus that Albus hated for others to see, and Severus despised him for it nearly as badly as Albus despised himself.

The side of Albus where he was unable to separate the past and the future from the present.

Albus had played his cards a little too quickly, a little too harshly, with a young Mister Potter, and in doing so he lost the respect of Severus forever. Although, Albus wasn’t sure when he looked back on his interactions with Mister Potter if he would have made different decisions or not.

Certainly little Harry with his ratty clothes, his poor manner of speech, and his fierce joy at being ‘special’ had sounded eerily enough to a young Tom that it had given Albus his first inkling of a connection between the two beyond their single interaction.

And Albus had known when he saw Severus’ memory of the boy, that whatever darkness had lingered in the shadows of Tom’s eyes, lingered within Harry’s as well. So he spoke too freely in his shock, and consequently lost a much beloved friend.

Albus had been uneasy around young Harry, but the boy had seemed relatively harmless at first. He cried for his parents in front of the Mirror of Erised, he saved a fellow student from a troll attack, and he faced down Tom’s wraith within Quirinus as he tried to protect the stone and prevent Tom from returning. So Albus had breathed a little easier around him.

Then the Chamber of Secrets had reopened and children who had run-ins with Harry were soon found petrified within the halls. And then Albus made his first true and irrevocable mistake with Potter; he expelled the boy. He heard Minerva tell him Miss Granger could alibi Harry for one of the attacks, and he heard Severus’ passionately loyal shouts that Harry had been in no way responsible for the attacks, but Minerva and Severus didnt walk past the girls restroom that Myrtle Warren haunted every day, pausing to listen to her wails of misery, as penance for his inactions once before.

Albus had a gut instinct that it had been the brilliant and charming Tom Riddle who opened the chamber during his school years, but he chose to not act and Miss Warren died before she ever truly got to live. So when he saw the publicly brilliant and charming, and privately cruel and vicious, Harry Potter flaunting the same link to Salazar that Tom had, Albus reacted in a knee jerk instinct to save the lives of every other student within the castle.

He had been wrong.

But how could he have known that at the time?

It was inexcusable, yet was it so truly unforgivable?

It had hurt Albus to expel the boy, return him to his mother’s family, but not as much as it had hurt the boy himself. When Albus sent him away, Harry had been on a precipitous edge of darkness, the look in his eyes unmistakeable as he told Albus he would one day kill him for his decision. And the boy that returned, the aloof, cold, manipulative boy whose name was cleared and he was able to return to Hogwarts, had dove directly in the darkness and wore it as proudly as Albus wore his own robes.

And it was Albus’ fault.

Albus’ fault for not listening to Severus when he said that Petunia Dursley was mistreating her nephew. It was Albus’ fault for allowing his past to cloud his judgement on the present. How many times had his own mother been accused of abuse for the way the tried desperately to shield and protect Arianna? ‘Abuse’ was a terrible word that held the ability to taint a lovely and respected woman and turn her into someone bleak and depressed. So Albus wrote Severus’ words off and lost his friend and the prophesied vanquisher of Tom in one fell, stubborn, foolish, tumble.

And Albus knew it. But he couldn’t go back and attempt to correct his mistakes, he wasn’t sure if he would make different choices now, as certain as he’d been of those decisions at the time, and so he picked up his losses and carried on as his mother taught him to do.

Fawkes let out a soft cry when Albus entered his office. He flew to Albus and perched on his shoulder, rubbing his beak along the side of Albus’ face.

“Hello, dear,” Albus said softly. He stroked Fawkes soft and vivid feathers gently. “Have you missed me?”

Fawkes let out a soft cry, sounding affirmative enough to Albus to momentarily lighten the sorrow that had been weighing him down since his return.

Albus eyed the stack of mail on his desk; the letters from the ministry, the letters from parents, the letters from the board members, and he shook his head at it.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured to himself. “I’ll tackle it tomorrow.”

The day had already brought on one mystery and heavy disappointment, he simply did not have the energy to face an entire stack of any more on this night.

Albus woke the next morning with a renewed energy and a determination to persevere despite the heavy mysteries that surrounded him.

He still had a great many things to accomplish outside of his hunt for Tom’s horcruxes, and they couldn’t be delayed by an old man’s exhaustion. Albus whistled as he made his way to breakfast, a spark of optimism filling him.

Horace had been very simple to convince to come back to Hogwarts, even as a part time position. Or, more likely, especially because of the part time position. Albus thought that Horace may be in hiding from his former pupil, but Horace had been at his home in Scotland when Albus first began seeking him out. Albus had believed that perhaps it meant Horace was a braver man than he had given him credit for, refusing to hide from Tom even when Albus knew that Tom confided a few secrets in him, but now he wasn’t so certain.

The way Horace seemed to glom on to Potter, despite the boy favoring Tom in both looks and behaviors was startling.

Did Horace not recall the last brilliant, charming, handsome, charismatic, powerful young Slytherin he had doted on? Did Horace not see the resemblance, did he not mind doting on the present day vision of young Tom, or had something happened to alter Horace’s views?

That was the question Albus was determined to find an answer to today, despite Horace’s determination to avoid him.

Albus seated himself at the head table and immediately turned to Horace with a joyful smile. “Horace, how have your classes been?”

“You ask me the same thing every time you see me, Albus,” Horace wagged a finger at Albus. “And I always tell you the same thing, they’re fine.”

Albus chuckled and poured a cup of tea. “An old man forgets anything that happened before he woke up for the day,” he joked. “A downfall of the elderly, I’m afraid.”

Horace huffed a small laugh, “You’re just as sneaky as you were fifty years ago,” he accused him. “‘Elderly’, bah! I don’t believe it.”

“Oh you’ll believe it in another forty or fifty years,” Albus warned him. “Then perhaps you’ll be sitting here wondering if these are the same students you had just last week.”

Horace laughed again, which was leagues more relaxed around Albus than he had been since term started. He had seemed happy enough to resume his revised position as potions Professor, but he had not seemed too keen on resuming a friendship with Albus.

Perhaps that was something Albus could change.

“Horace, would you like to pop by my office tonight? Perhaps have a nightcap and a game of cards?”

Horace’s eyes narrowed slightly, but Albus kept up his genial smile until he finally nodded.

“A nightcap then,” he agreed. “Why don’t you come down from the tower and we can meet in my office, hmm?”

“Wonderful!” Albus cried. “Seven o’clock then?”

Horace agreed, albeit a little curtly, and Albus began planning.

There was nothing for it. Albus had tried to be subtle, he tried prodding gently, but he would simply have to bring up Tom’s name tonight and gauge Horace’s reaction.

It carried a great cost, with the possibility of Slughorn outright fleeing Hogwarts as a worst case scenario, but it also carried the possibility of Albus determining what precisely Tom Riddle confided in Horace all those years ago.

It was with this plan that Albus arrived at Horace’s lavish office at seven o’clock that evening. He brought along a bottle of sherry and a jar of Horace’s beloved crystallized pineapple.

“What do you really want, Albus?” Horace asked suspiciously when Albus placed the gifts on his desk and took a seat across from him.

“You wound me, Horace,” Albus said with a twinkling smile. “I merely wanted to catch up with my old friend, perhaps reminisce on the old days, relive our youth.”

“I don’t know what you mean ‘our’ youth, I’m still plenty young,” Horace said gruffly. He relaxed in his seat when Albus poured them both a glass of sherry and took the first drink. “And good riddance to ‘the old days’,” Horace added. “I’ve always preferred to think of the future.”

“The mysterious future,” Albus hummed. “A curious thing to ponder.”

“Anything is better than the terrible times of today,” Horace said. He took a long drink of his sherry and smacked his lips. “All this death and darkness from You-Know-Who, you can’t blame someone for thinking of a brighter future.”

It was likely the best opening Albus could hope for.

“Hmm,” Albus nodded in agreement. “It does tend to make you recall back when he was just little Tom Riddle though, doesn’t it?”

“Tom Riddle?” Horace looked up sharply. “What are you on about, Albus?”

Albus stared hard at Horace. Tom had been a long time favorite of his, the man used to sing his praises at every staff meeting. It was Horace who pushed for Tom’s placement as Head Boy, despite Albus’ reservations. Albus looked over at the wall of photographs briefly, cataloging the famous and successful pupils that Horace was so proud of.

He was certain that the only reason Tom had not made the wall, was because Horace knew who he grew to be.

“Voldemort’s name, Horace,” Albus said gently, ignoring Horace’s grimace at the name, “Tom Riddle. Your student, you knew that, surely?”

Horace squinted at Albus, weighing his words for a moment. “I never taught any Tom Riddle. Never had a Riddle, period.”

Albus’ insides chilled as he read the truth of Horace’s words in his eyes.

Horace didn’t remember his once most prized pupil.

“Are you feeling alright, Albus? You look unwell.”

Albus rose to his feet, shaken to his core. “I think I am unwell, thank you for your hospitality, Horace. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Horace watched as Albus slowly left the room, his eyes tight and curious at Albus’ abrupt departure.

Albus pondered the Horace situation until late in the night.

Horace truly did not remember Tom. And Tom, even without knowing who he grew to be, was as remarkably memorable as Harry.

So who had obliviated Tom from Horace’s memory? It was a short list of suspects, as it had to be a witch or wizard of remarkable power that did it. And, when he factored in someone with an interest in Tom and access to Horace, the list shrunk to two possibilities.

Harry or Severus.

“Hmm.” Albus hummed thoughtfully to himself. He tapped his fingernails on his desk and repeated himself aloud. “Harry or Severus?”

Harry was a distinct possibility, especially if he turned out to be the one attacking students and wiping their memories.

“But to what end?”

Harry had shown no loyalty to Tom, despite Albus’ initial fears. And certainly after Miss Bones nearly died at the hands of Tom’s followers and Miss Lovegood’s father was killed over the summer, surely Harry would only oppose the man that much more. Harry’s loyalty was admirable, if nothing else. Albus couldn’t see him working with Tom. Not now, not anymore.

Severus and his ever growing list of secrets, with his frequent trips out of the castle, was as much a possibility as Harry was. If anyone had the power and the brains to piece together Tom’s secret, it would be Severus.

Except Severus loved the boy. He loved the boy more than Albus had imagined he could. It broke Albus’ heart when he realized how much Severus loved a child that was destined to die. He never imagined that Severus would form such a bond with James’ son, Sirius’ godson. But Severus loved the boy. Severus would die for the child, that much was obvious to all but Harry himself. Severus had always been a cautious man, never a fan of big risks. And big risks were all he has taken since Albus expelled Harry.

So Severus would not have done it to protect Tom, either.

But what other goal would someone achieve by wiping Horace’s memory? And, if they were the one who found and removed the hypothetical horcrux in the Gaunt shack, why?

Albus could see one event being done to hasten Tom’s end. He was certain that it was Severus who found the existence of the horcruxes and began finding and destroying them to save Harry.

And Albus could see Harry wiping Tom, or Timmy as he called him to Albus’ never ending amusement, from Horace’s mind as either a move to show loyalty to Tom, or, more likely, as an offering between them? Perhaps Tom told Harry if he erased Horace’s memory that he would end his attacks in Harry’s friends’ family? It could also have been a threat, ‘do this or I’ll kill Draco’s father’. Either way, it was likely that it had been Harry who erased Horace’s mind along with Miss Weasley and Mister Finnigan.

But Albus could not think of a single reason, threat, or possibility that would cause Severus and Harry to work towards opposite goals.

The two of them were closer than any parent and child, closer than any best of friends. When Severus woke in the hospital wing, it took him less than a fraction of a second to immediately back Harry’s lies about Barty Crouch Jr being behind his abduction and Severus’ injuries. When Harry fell during his last quidditch match, Severus had reached the field before Harry could hit the ground. And everyone spoke of Harry’s absolute dedication to Severus.

They would never work to opposite goals; one moving against Tom, and one assisting him.

Never.

Which meant Albus must be missing a piece of the puzzle before him. And he had to solve the puzzle to defeat Tom before their community faced such a loss of life that even Gellert hadn’t worked towards.

And there weren’t many ways to discover this missing piece. Albus had ruined any chance he once had at gaining Harry or Severus’ trust, they saw him as an enemy now. Certainly since May, if not before.

Severus saw Albus make the decision to sacrifice the boy, the horcrux, to delay Tom.

And Harry saw Albus move to kill him. In a neatly orchestrated move by Tom, Harry had regained his green eyed sight just in time to see the green curse Albus sent at him.

And, thus, neither would accept Albus’ offer to work in tangent against Tom. In fact, it was likely that if either of them discovered that Albus knew Harry carried a horcrux within him, they would move to end his life. Certainly Severus would, anyway. Severus would kill Albus before he allowed Albus to kill Harry.

Severus would never believe Albus if he told him Harry was safe, and Albus would never lie to him about it either. He had too much respect for Severus to do so. Harry didn’t need to die today, he didn’t even need to die until the other horcruxes were destroyed, but he would eventually have to die. It was a tragedy. Every life, every soul, was precious. The soul of a child, even if the boy had undoubtedly damaged his with the lives Albus knew he had taken, was all the more precious.

Harry could have possibly another few years. Albus hoped they would be happy years, filled with joy and love, but in the end, Harry would have to die.

One life, for what was certain to be millions.

In another world, Harry would understand. Harry would see the necessity of his selfless sacrifice and offer his life freely, as Albus would if he were in his shoes. But not in this world. Harry would never, and Severus would never allow it.

It was the most disturbing knowledge to carry. Every time Albus saw the boy, at meals with his friends, in the corridors, even when Albus occasionally passed by his classes, it tore at Albus that Harry would likely never live to see twenty. Harry would never live past the age of his tragically young parents.

It was terrible, but there was a part of Albus that was minutely relieved as well.

Harry may never live to see twenty, but the wizarding world would never have to see the boy hero they revered become the next dark wizard they feared.

But Harry’s death could be years away, and all the further if Albus was unable to solve the puzzle before him.

And so he carefully planned, painstakingly plotted, and went to bed when the sun was rising with an idea in his mind.

“Sir?” The young boy poked his head in Albus’ office the next evening, his green eyes bright with curiosity. “You wanted to see me?”

“Come in, my boy, come in!” Albus said cheerfully. “Please, have a seat.”

He watched as Mister Bailey inched warily in Albus’ office, his head twisting and turning to take in all the sights of the Headmaster’s office, before he tentatively sat on the edge of his chair.

“Did I do something wrong, sir?” Mister Bailey asked, quite politely, after folding his hands on his lap.

“Not at all,” Albus assured him. He gave young Trent a smile and folded his own hands harmlessly on his desk. “I merely wanted to ask you how your apprenticeship with Professor Black was going?”

“Oh.” Trent seemed to relax slightly at the easy topic. “It’s great, sir. Siri- uh... Professor Black is brill! I learned a lot from him last summer, and he said we can work on even more this summer.”

“Excellent,” Albus said honestly.

He had been surprised when he resumed his role as Headmaster and saw that Minerva approved an apprenticeship for Trent Bailey and Sirius Black last school year. It was a peculiar arrangement, not one frequently seen. Yet, when Albus had seen it, it was always from Slytherin students who Severus believed had unhappy home lives.

Severus, despite his many attempts to cause people to believe otherwise, truly had a heart of gold and cared for his charges. Even if Severus no longer believed in Albus’ good intentions, Albus firmly believed, outside of his choices regarding Harry, that Severus had honorable intentions in all his decisions. Harry seemed to be Severus’ blind spot, causing him to behave unethically in his lies about Tom’s return and his trips out of the castle, but outside of that, Severus was a good man.

And Severus clearly believed that Trent Bailey had required his assistance, especially if he had sought out Sirius to do so.

“Sirius is a good man,” Albus told Trent. “Despite what some may say,” he added with a teasing smile.

Trent smiled back, an easy smile that Albus was pleased to believe was a rather permanent fixture on the boys’ face. “Yes sir,” he agreed. “Professor Black is great. Remus too, of course, but Professor Black always has fun ideas. He makes it easy to learn defense. We even worked on OWL level transfiguration this summer.”

Albus smiled at the boys’ exuberance and joy. It had been the reason Albus sought him out, as opposed to one of Harry’s other, closer, friends. Harry’s friends were as tightly knit to him as Tom’s circle of friends had been to him. Just as you never saw one of Tom’s friends without another, you never saw Miss Granger without Mister Nott, Mister Weasley without Mister Malfoy, nor even Mister Longbottom without Mister Zabini. And never, rarely ever, was Harry seen without Miss Bones or Miss Lovegood by his side.

It was heartening, to know that Harry carried such attachments to his friends, but so had Tom.

And his friends became the first marked death eaters.

Trent though, he was younger than the others, not so tightly knit within the group. Certainly he idolized Harry, anyone could see that, but he also did a great many things without the others. Which made Albus believe that he was not as integrated within the circle, and thus may speak more freely.

Close enough to perhaps assist Albus in solving the puzzle, but not so close that he would turn Albus away, as Mister Longbottom had.

“I hope you found time to enjoy yourself over the summer as well,” Albus said with a mock expression of solemnity over his half-moon spectacles at Trent. “Sirius surely didn’t spend all your time on academics, did he?”

“Oh, no,” Trent laughed. “We went on vacation too, sir. It was amazing. Have you ever been to Florida? It was super sunny, but really fun. Harry and I raced on jet skis, and Sirius said if I get good grades at the end of the year exams, he’d buy a jet ski for me and Harry both for our birthdays next summer!”

It wasn’t surprising to Albus that Sirius had lied to him when Albus asked him if he had seen much of Harry over the summer at the last Order meeting. Sirius was as against the dark arts and those who practiced them as Albus himself was, but Sirius had more love and loyalty in his heart than perhaps any other wizard Albus had known.

And there was likely no person Earthside that Sirius loved more than his godson.

Harry Potter had a knack for inspiring loyalty, just as Tom Riddle did before him.

What was surprising, was that Trent had provided Albus an excellent opening for the topic he wanted to discuss, despite Albus not pressing for it yet.

“I have been to Florida, though I admit I never rode a jet ski,” Albus chuckled. “Did you enjoy vacationing with Harry? I would think you would rather have had someone your age to spend time with.”

“Not really,” Trent waved his hand airily and grinned. “Harry’s loads of fun to hang out with, Fred too.”

“Fred Weasley?” Albus asked. Trent bobbed his head in a small nod. “Fred was known as quite the troublemaker,” Albus said with a wink. “Not as much as Harry, certainly, but Fred had his fair share of detentions.”

“Harry isn’t a troublemaker, sir,” Trent said, his eyes beginning to narrow slightly. “Harry never gets detention, except for when he gets too cheeky with Professor Black sometimes.”

“Aah, Harry rarely gets caught,” Albus said in a knowing tone. If Trent believed Albus already knew of Harry’s misdeeds, he may be more likely to discuss them. “Fred just never had Harry’s talent for secrecy.”

“Harry doesn’t do anything wrong, sir,” Trent said, his voice edging towards a cool tone. “Harry’s brill. He always helps other students with their spells, and helps people protect themselves, and takes care of people. Harry’s a hero.”

Albus truly despised doing this, but he didn’t carry a whole lot of cards left up his sleeve to play and the puzzle needed solving. Albus lightly skimmed Trent’s mind and felt proof of what he saw in his eyes- love.

Harry may not have as much capacity for love as Albus hoped he would, for only love would drive a person to sacrifice their life for others, but he had apparently inspired it within those closest to him.

And Albus of all people knew that when you loved someone, it would take nothing short of a miracle to cause you to turn against them.

Albus subtly shifted topics away from Harry, sensing the dead-end from Trent. Trent loved Harry, saw him as the older brother he had always wanted. If he knew Harry’s secrets, he would carry them to his grave. He chatted with Trent for a short while, truly enjoying the view Trent had on Hogwarts, his classes, and his professors.

After Albus dismissed him, he could admit that it was refreshing to chat with one of the students. It served as a reminder to Albus who it was that he worked for, who it was that he had to protect.

But when Fawkes flew to Albus’ shoulder, he could also admit that his abilities to protect the students, the innocent children within the castle, was dwindling with his lack of understanding on the Tom and Harry situation.

“They are not two sides of the same coin, but rather two identical coins with differing serial numbers,” Albus mused as he stroked Fawkes wing. “If I can’t understand why Harry would obliviate Horace, then I’m afraid that he is planning a different type of war than I’m used to fighting.”

Fawkes hooted and ruffled his feathers.

“I know.” Albus leaned back in his chair, exhausted by the exceptionally unproductive week he has had. It seemed like he had piled more questions, more mysteries, on himself than he had any answers. “We still have the other one,” Albus murmured to his feathered companion. “Perhaps they will be able to discover Harry’s plot with Horace and bring it to me. They haven’t failed us on bringing us information on the boy before, have they?”

Fawkes made a mewling sort of noise, that Albus chose to believe was his agreement.

When he went to bed that night, he prayed that Friday morning would bring him the end of his mentally draining week, and perhaps his spy could even bring along some sort of helpful and relevant information.

It was a fruitless prayer, as was quickly proven.

Albus had hardly worked through a third of his stack of endless mail before his floo chimed. He waved his wand, allowing entry to whoever sought him out, and rose to his feet as Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped through.

Kingsley’s face was grave, the same sobriety in the line of his lips and the set of his shoulders that he had the last few times he brought Albus news of the death of one of his students’ family members.

“I’m afraid I have terrible news, Albus,” Kingsley said slowly. “There was an attack early this morning...”

Albus slowly sank to his seat, horror filling him with every word Kingsley spoke.

Albus had been relieved to be reinstated as Headmaster at the end of the summer, yet days like today made the coward in him wish that he had Minerva remain Headmistress instead.

“You’re certain?” Albus asked Kingsley, stricken and heart-broken by what he shared.

“I am,” Kingsley said solemnly.

Albus nodded slowly and cleared away the letters that still required correspondence. Why had he ever complained about writing our replies when this was a much more terrible duty laid on his shoulders? Yet again, Tom had taken a life, and Albus was the one who would have to inform the loved ones that were left behind.

“Would you like me to wait here, sir?” Kingsley asked.

“Yes, please,” Albus said wearily. “I’m certain this won’t go over well. Best to have backup, so to speak.”

No. This announcement would not go well at all.

Kingsley gave Albus a small nod of acknowledgment, and remained beside the floo.

And Albus, true coward that he was, wished it was Minerva who had to do this one, despite knowing it must be him. He would have to be the one to continue telling these students that their loved ones had perished until Tom was stopped.

Chapter Text

Friday, November 21

“You have to answer, Harry,” Hermione sighed. “It’s part of the game.”

“Well the game is stupid and I don’t want to,” Harry scowled.

“Booooock, booooock,” Ron said, probably impersonating a chicken, as if that would cause Harry to answer Blaise’s stupid question.

“It’s fine, if Harry’s too scared to answer, we can skip him,” Blaise said with a smirk.

“Fine.” Harry threw his hands up in exasperation. “I’d marry McGonagall, kill Sirius, and shag Flitwick. Are you happy?”

Harry’s friends in their circle on the dorm floor howled with laughter until Neville was literally pounding the floor with his fists.

“Why- why would you kill Sirius?” Susan asked, tears clinging to her lashes from her laughter. “He’s your godfather!”

“Exactly, so it would be gross to marry him or shag him, wouldn’t it?”

”McGonagall’s a damn sight prettier than Flitwick,” Ron grinned.

Harry shrugged. He just liked his hypothetical odds against Flitwick more than McGonagall, even if Ron was right and McGonagall was more attractive. “Imagine Sirius rolling in his grave though when I marry his Minnie,” he smirked.

Luna laughed until her head fell over on to Trent’s shoulder, knocking Trent to the floor, causing the others to laugh even harder.

Harry had no idea how they started such a daft game, but Blaise said that the seventh year Ravenclaw boys had played it in their dorm one night and he loved it.

“My turn now, isn’t it?” Harry asked. He eyed the others when Blaise agreed until he landed on Neville. “Nev, shag, marry, kill: Snape, Sirius, Lupin?”

“No fair!” Draco cried. “If he kills Snape then you’ll curse him!”

“No I won’t,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes. “I know it’s a game, Dray. C’mon, Nev, if I had to answer, so do you.”

Neville’s face was beet red as the others looked at him, but he took a fortifying drink of Ron’s smuggled bottle of firewhiskey and answered anyway. “Shag Remus, marry Snape, kill Sirius.”

“Poor Sirius,” Trent laughed gleefully. “It just isn’t his night, is it?”

“Why would you marry Snape?” Draco asked Neville incredulously. “You were terrified to ask him for a game of cards, but now you’ll ask for his hand in marriage?”

“Forget that, why would you shag Lupin over Snape or Black?” Susan asked, just as incredulously as Draco. “I’d shag Snape and Black together before I shagged Lupin.”

“Ew!” Trent cried. “That’s disgusting!”

“That’s actually- no, it’s not,” Hermione giggled with a blush.

Harry was inclined to agree with Trent on that one.

“Neville doesn’t have to explain his choices if he doesn’t want to,” Blaise said loyally. “Even if he chose alllll wrong. I’d marry Black, shag Snape, and kill Lupin.”

“I did not choose wrong, you’re not thinking it through properly,” Neville said stubbornly. “Snape’s terrifying, right? Like, if someone hurt Harry then he’d kill them. Imagine what he’d do if someone hurt his husband, eh?”

Harry nodded in instant understanding. “You’d be the safest person in the entire bloody world.”

“Exactly,” Neville smirked. “And... er... well... Sirius is a nice bloke, alright? But... but I just think he’d be a bit too nice, and Lupin would be... a bit... less nice?”

“A wild animal in the sack,” Susan said seriously. “God damn, Neville, you’re right. Lupin is the obvious choice of a rough shag.”

Harry joined the others in laughing that time. Only Susan would think Lupin, with his faded cardigans and bland smiles and softly spoken words would be an ‘obvious choice of a rough shag’.

Even if Harry had no idea why Susan would want a shag to be rough in the first place.

“My turn,” Neville grinned. He tapped his cheek thoughtfully as he looked the others over before landing on Luna. “Lunaaaa,” he sang, already sounding partly inebriated. “Shag, marry, kill: Blaise, Ron, or me.”

“Oh, fuck,” Trent hiccuped, his eyes eager as he watched Luna ponder Neville’s question.

“I would kill you, marry Blaise, and shag Ron,” Luna said firmly.

Ron and Blaise looked really pleased with themselves, until Luna added:

“I would want Juliana to be my mother-in-law more than your gran, and I just think Ron would be really grateful to be shagged, and he’d want to make sure I enjoyed myself so I let him do it again.”

Harry fell flat on his back as he laughed at that. Maybe this game wasn’t so stupid after all. In fact, after the annoying week he’d had, this was just the thing to relax.

Harry had been released from the hospital wing before lunch on Sunday, and had consequently broken every bone in McLaggen’s hand by Sunday night. Luckily, Susan reminded Harry that bones could be mended quickly, but took at least a few painful hours to regrow, so Harry concentrated hard and managed to vanish a couple of them.

McLaggen tattled, because he’s an idiot, and Snape had Harry in detention three nights in a row. A cunning ruse for Snape to pester the hell out of Harry on his ‘mummy issues’ (Fred’s phrase he used when Harry told him about it). Harry didn’t ‘elaborate’ and Snape eventually dropped it, but neither of them had been happy about it.

So it’d been a bit of a shit week, and it didn’t get much better when Thursday night Trent returned to the dorm and told Harry he had been ‘carefully questioned’ on Harry’s activities by Dumbledore. Harry didn’t want to have Trent swear in to the gang, but fuckin Dumbledore didn’t leave him many options.

They were even relaxing their rule on letting Trent drink to sort of make it up to him. Even though Trent had been thrilled to officially be in the gang.

Harry was pretty sure that Dumbledore had been fishing for a way to pin Ginny and Finnigan’s attacks on him- it would make it easier for him to kill Harry if he was expelled, but Trent hadn’t fallen for it even if the rest of the castle firmly believed Harry had been behind the attacks.

So the gang was celebrating.

Susan said any time one of them refused to answer Dumbledore’s questions it merited a fun sleepover.

Harry wholeheartedly agreed. Plus, if anyone got stabbed and obliviated tonight, he’d have nine alibis that could swear he was getting pissed and playing games in his dorm all night.

“Why does nobody ever ask me anything?” Trent scowled when Luna turned to Draco with a wicked smile on her lips.

“Because you’re our little baby PJ and you shouldn’t be thinking of shagging anyone,” Hermione teased him, causing Trent’s scowl to increase.

“Draco, my handsome, wonderful, sweet Draco.”

Harry knew whatever Luna was about to ask was going to be hilarious, and Draco knew too because he was already downing his third shot of the night in preparation.

“Shag, marry, kill: Harry, Ron, or Susan?”

“You are supposed to be on my side,” Draco hissed while the others screamed their laughs.

“This isn’t a team sport,” Luna winked.

Harry tilted his head at Draco, smirking just a little when Draco seemed to look between Susan and Harry a lot.

“Marry Ron,” Draco finally said confidently. “Shag... Harry, but definitely before I killed Susan.”

“No qualifiers!” Theo protested between his laughter.

“You aren’t even gay!” Susan cried. “We kissed, once! Why would you kill me and not Harry?!”

Draco sighed and gave Susan a look of pure exasperation. “Do you honestly think I could kill Harry?”

“D’you think you could kill Susan?” Harry asked with a smug smile.

“I like my odds better with her than you,” Draco said.

“Why are you killing Susan after shagging Harry?” Neville asked.

“Because if I killed Susan before I shagged Harry, then Harry would kill me mid-shag and that is a terrible way to die,” Draco shuddered.

“That’s precisely how I want to die,” Blaise laughed. “Aah, just buried in—”

“Kindly do not finish that sentence, Zabini.”

Harry looked up from his glass he was refilling and saw Snape standing in their doorway.

Fuck.

Harry very unsubtly threw the uncapped bottle directly underneath the nearest bed, leaving a trail of strongly scented firewhiskey behind it.

“Sev,” he said cheerily, “what’s up?”

Harry’s smile slipped as he registered Snape’s expression. He didn’t even look annoyed at the bottles of alcohol, one of which Harry swiped from his own cabinet. He looked... tired? No.

Sad.

Snape looked sad.

“I need Miss Bones,” Snape said softly. “Susan, come along, please.”

Nobody was laughing, or felt like laughing, anymore. Harry felt his insides freeze as he looked up at Snape. Instinctively, his hand reached out and grabbed Susan’s right hand tightly.

“She didn’t do anything,” Hermione said. “We’ve been in here since dinner and Susan and I had classes together before that.”

Harry didn’t think Susan was in trouble, and, judging from the way Susan was crushing Harry’s fingers as her breaths became loud enough to hear over Harry’s thudding heart, Susan didn’t think so either.

“Susan has done nothing wrong,” Snape said. His voice was all wrong. It was gentle, soft. Like he was approaching a wild animal, not talking to a group of teenagers. “Susan, will you come with me, please? Harry may join us, if you would like.”

“I’d like you to tell me now,” Susan said. Her voice was trembling, terrified, and it put Harry on a sharp edge.

Susan was never terrified of anything.

“I believe we should have a modicum of privacy,” Snape said.

“No!” Susan snapped. “Tell me now, Snape. TELL ME.”

Don’t say it, Harry mentally begged him. Go away. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

“There was an attack early this morning-”

Please, no. Don’t say it.

“Amelia was killed.”

Harry didn’t know who cried out first, but, like magnets, Harry and Susan turned to each other and clung together.

“Make him leave,” Susan whispered in Harry’s neck. “Please, make him leave.”

“Take it back!” Harry yelled at Snape over Susan’s shoulder. His vision was a bit blurry with his shock and his anger, but he could still see Snape standing there dressed in his black robes. “Take it back or fucking leave!”

Susan’s wails began after Snape quietly said he would wait for her in the hall.

Harry held Susan as tightly to him as he could, and the others circled around them, burying Harry and Susan in their arms and their silence.

Amelia.

Kind, funny, sweet Amelia.

“Maybe it’s a mistake,” Blaise whispered desperately. “Maybe they’re wrong.”

“Maybe they aren’t,” Theo said softly. “She m-might have been a big target.”

Hermione pinched Theo’s arm as Susan’s sobs increased in both tempo and rate.

There wasn’t anything to say after that.

Nobody spoke for a long time.

Harry held Susan.

Susan held Harry.

Susan sobbed loudly in Harry’s chest.

Harry became so enraged, so shocked, that he felt numb.

And the others tried to offer silent comfort, while thinking of their own families.

It felt like an eternity when Susan’s sobs tapered off and she mumbled something indecipherable in Harry’s chest.

“What?”

Susan pulled her face back just enough to be understood. “Who?” she whispered.

Harry knew what she meant.

Who just got moved to the top of their list?

“Do you want me to go ask?” Hermione offered, her cheeks wet with her own tears.

“No.” Susan struggled to sit up, as buried as her and Harry were beneath their very well-intentioned friends. Luna silently handed her a towel and Susan wiped her face and tucked the towel in her shirt collar carelessly. “I’ll go.”

“We’ll all go,” Ron offered, the others nodding in immediate agreement.

Susan’s eyes welled with tears again that she let fall. Harry squeezed her fingers and gently helped her to her feet. “Snape’s in the hall,” he said quietly. “We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.”

“I need to know.”

Harry and Susan led the way to the door, the others following behind them. Harry looked at Susan one more time before reaching for the handle. She met his eyes and- oh -it hurt to see her devastation shining through her eyes. She jerked her chin upwards though, so Harry opened the door.

Snape, who was slumped against the wall, straightened himself as they trooped out of the dorm as a singular unit.

“Sus—”

“How?” Harry asked for Susan.

Snape understood him at once. “I don’t know, precisely” he said. His eyes were dark, devastated in his own private way, reminding Harry that Snape and Amelia were friends of a sort. “Shacklebolt is in Albus’ office, he will have your answers.”

“Lead the way,” Susan said, her voice hard.

Snape’s eyes flicked over the others quickly, but not quickly enough to be unnoticed.

“We’re going with her, sir,” Neville said firmly. “We’re Susan’s family.”

Snape’s eyes softened as he saw them all stand firm in their resolve. “Very well,” he said. “Come.”

They made a dour procession as they walked down the stairs and through the half-filled common room. None of the Slytherins said a word as they took in the squared shoulders, red-rimmed eyes, and absent smiles as the ten students followed silently behind their equally silent head of house.

They all knew what must have happened.

Nobody spoke, aside from a few sniffles here and there, until Snape approached the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore’s office.

“Jelly Slugs,” Snape said.

The gargoyles leapt to the side, and Harry gave Susan one last searching look.

“Don’t let go of me,” Susan whispered.

“Never.”

Harry kept Susan’s smaller, harder, hand tightly gripped in his while they all followed Snape up the spiral stairs and in to Dumbledore’s office.

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, the lines of his face deeper than they were last time Harry saw him, and the bags under his eyes said quite a bit about his level of comfort recently.

Pity, Harry thought uncharitably.

The tall auror with the bald head and golden earring, Shacklebolt, stood in one corner of the room, and Sirius and Professor Sprout stood beside him.

Harry felt a twinge of actual genuine pity for Sirius who looked absolutely miserable.

‘Amy’, he called Amelia.

His friend ‘Amy’.

Susan’s aunt ‘Amy’.

The witch who took Harry in for two weeks one summer and took him to carnivals, took him swimming with Susan, and who just a couple of weeks ago took Harry to get ice cream after telling him the Dursley’s were dead.

’You’re my favorite honorary son,’ Amelia winked.

War was cruel.

And whoever did this was dead.

“Oh Susan,” Professor Sprout wrapped Susan in a warm hug as Harry’s friends tried to crowd together inside Dumbledore’s office.

“Severus, it is a bit snug in here, isn’t it?” Dumbledore asked quietly. “Perhaps some of the students could wait for their friend downstairs?”

“Perhaps you can wait downstairs,” Theo snapped coolly. “We are Susan’s family, you are nobody.”

Had Harry ever told Theo he was his favorite brother? If not, he would have to later.

Shacklebolt stepped forward quickly, standing between Dumbledore and the students, blocking Harry’s view of the biggest threat in the room.

“Susan.” Shacklebolt grabbed Susan’s empty hand and knelt in front of her, causing Sprout to shuffle to Susan’s side. “I am so sorry.”

“I don’t want your FUCKING APOLOGY,” Susan yelled. “What happened?! I want to see my aunt!”

Shacklebolt didn’t look cowed by Susan’s shout. His face remained calm as he waited for her to give him his chance to speak.

“There was an attack,” he said slowly. “Six death eaters broke in the Ministry early this morning. They were moving towards the Minister’s office, killing anyone who stood between them. Your aunt tricked three of them, she led them to an empty office and locked them in the room, but she had locked herself inside as well.”

“And they killed her?” Susan whispered, her tears seemingly endless as the streamed freely down her face.

“No. She killed them.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense,” Harry said. “Quit speaking in god damned riddles and tell us what happened.”

Shacklebolt’s eyes turned to Harry, and he didn’t look impressed with his interruption, but he did appease him.

“Amelia blew the office up,” Shacklebolt said, turning back to Susan and looking at her as he spoke. “She killed all three of them, but sacrificed herself in the process. The others managed to kill four ministry employees. Amelia undoubtedly saved a lot of lives, including the Minister’s, with her sacrifice, Susan. She died a hero.”

Harry couldn’t close his eyes, not with Dumbledore and Shacklebolt in the room, so he compromised by clenching his jaw hard enough to feel the strain clear down his neck.

‘Sacrificed herself’ just meant she knowingly left Susan behind.

‘Died a hero’: gone forever.

Harry would never sacrifice himself. He would never purposefully ‘die a hero’.

How could Amelia do that to Susan? She told her she loved her, then left her.

“Where are the other three?” Susan asked. “I want their names and I want them dead.”

“One died, one was captured and is headed to Azkaban, and one evaded arrest,” Shacklebolt said. “Vengeance won’t bring her back, Susan. I’m so sorry.”

What good were his fucking apologies?

What good did Amelia do by loving Susan if she left her?

“Shut up,” Susan whispered. She closed her eyes and dropped Shacklebolt’s hand, grabbing Harry’s hand with both of hers now. “Shut your mouth. I want to go see her.”

“Susan, you can’t,” Sirius said hoarsely from the side of the room. “There was only a bit to identify her with.”

“What?” Harry’s eyes flew to Sirius. If they had identified Amelia by a small body part, then maybe she isn’t dead at all. That’s how they identified Pettigrew, and he lived for 13 more years before Harry killed him.

“I made the identification,” Shacklebolt said quietly. “Sirius is correct, there was only a small bit to identify her with.”

“But then she could be alive!” Harry cried. He stared almost pleadingly at Sirius. “Like Pettigrew, yeah??”

“No, pup,” Sirius shook his head sadly, his eyes shiny with tears, “not like Pettigrew.”

“But it could be,” Draco argued.

“It couldn’t,” Shacklebolt said. He grimaced and looked up at Sprout before speaking very slowly, “Amelia was identified by a large portion of her- her brain.”

Not like Pettigrew at all then.

Susan let out the most heart-wrenching wail that Harry had ever heard before sinking to her knees, pulling Harry down with her.

Harry knew there wasn’t anything to say, so he just held her as she shook and cried in the middle of the floor. He could feel the others watching them, pretending they weren’t watching them, and Harry would hate for anyone to see him like that, especially Dumbledore, so he clenched his fingers tightly and forced his magic to shield Susan from view.

Susan had never cried so much in all the time Harry knew her, but he supposed losing her aunt was significantly worse than losing an arm.

Shacklebolt quietly offered to take Susan out of the castle for a few days, which stopped Susan’s tears for a few minutes.

“No, thank you,” she said dully, getting to her feet slowly, as if she’d aged 100 years in the last couple of hours. “I’d like to stay here.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Sprout said, her tone sympathetic and her eyes filled with pity. “Why don’t I take you back to lay down? Get some rest?”

“I will do it,” Snape said. “Black, inform me of the details when you have them?”

“Yeah,” Sirius looked blank, like he wasn’t sure how he got to where he was. He shook his head a little and nodded. “I should have it by morning.”

Harry was mystified what they were talking about, but Luna seemed to understand.

“You should have it on a weekend, or cancel classes for the day. A lot of us will want to be there,” she said quietly.

“A wise decision, Miss Lovegood,” Dumbledore said softly. “If Amelia’s services are on a weekday, Hogwarts will close for it. Susan, please do not worry about your classes right now. Your professors will assist you in catching up when you’re ready.”

Harry held back the urge to snap at Dumbledore.

Susan didn’t.

“Gee, thank you, sir.” She glared at Dumbledore with as much venom in her gaze as in her tone. “What a fucking kind offer.”

One of their friends gasped, Harry was pretty sure it was Neville. Someone else snickered quietly, and Harry saw from the corner of his eye that it was Trent.

Dumbledore didn’t say anything, but he did glance at Trent, so Harry caught Dumbledore’s blue-eyed gaze as he slung free arm out and threw it over Trent’s shoulders.

Don’t talk to Susan and don’t fuck with Trent ever again, Harry thought very pointedly in Dumbledore’s direction. They’re mine. Not yours.

Harry doubted that Dumbledore actually heard his thoughts, but the message seemed understood all the same because he nodded in Snape’s direction, a silent dismissal.

Harry counted the deaths he owed Timmy for as Snape led them back to the dungeons, bypassing the Hufflepuff common room entrance.

Timmy had taken six.

Harry had taken four directly, three more that were confirmed at Malfoy Manor, two indirectly by taking Snape and Lucius, and Amelia took three.

Six to twelve, Harry pushed through the mental link as he walked. Time to find a new job, noseless. You’re not doing so great as a Dark Lord.

Harry hadn’t expected a response, he only lingered with the link open long enough to know Timmy heard him, so he froze in place when he heard Timmy’s sibilant voice hissing back in his mind-

Join me then. Join me and we will kill our enemies together.

“Harry?”

Harry blinked, ensuring his surprise was hidden behind a more solemn expression. Susan was standing beside him, her face curious as she waited for him. The others were just ahead, watching Harry as well. Harry shook his head and offered Susan a small smile.

“Sorry,” he said. “Let’s go.”

They caught up to the others and Harry sent Timmy one more message before following behind them in the Slytherin rooms.

You are the enemy that I’m going to kill.

Then he closed the link firmly and focused his attention on Susan.

Snape escorted them clear to Harry’s dormitory door and paused after he opened it.

“If you need anything,” he said quietly. He placed his hand on Susan’s shoulder for a moment before pulling it back, giving Harry a small nod, and leaving.

“Did Professor Snape just give us permission to have girls in our dorm all night?” Trent asked in surprise.

“Professor Snape knows we need to be together,” Luna said simply. She climbed in Harry’s bed and held her arms out for Susan.

Harry watched as Susan threw herself in Luna’s arms and let her rock her back and forth as she stared in the void with a lifeless expression.

And, just as it had been when Luna’s dad died, Harry had no immediate enemy in front of him to kill. No revenge to wreck on her behalf in the moment.

Which made him useless.

“What can we do?” Theo asked quietly, sounding just as lost and useless as Harry was feeling.

“Grab the pillows,” Hermione said, taking charge as she cleared away the bottles and glasses from earlier. “All the pillows and blankets, give them here.”

The other boys snapped in to action and immediately began dragging the pillows and blankets off all the beds and handing them to Hermione. Hermione waved her wand and levitated the beds together against one wall, leaving a large empty space for their gang to sleep on on the floor.

Once Hermione was done, Blaise went over to Harry’s bed, the only bed still in its original position, and carefully lifted Susan out of Luna’s arms.

“Come on, Susan,” he murmured to her. “We’ll all sleep on the floor like animals together.”

Susan didn’t smile at Blaise’s poor attempt to joke, but she did nod compliantly and let him settle her in the center of the mess of pillows and blankets.

Harry inched backwards slowly as the others silently began preparing for bed. He needed his gun, his knife, his cloak, and maybe his Felix Felicis. There was one death eater that escaped today, he could find them. They might even lead him to Timmy. If Harry worked fast, and the potion gave him some extra luck, he could keep Timmy from taking anyone else before Susan even woke up in the morning.

He would have done it. Just slipped away and burnt the lone death eater to ashes while everyone else slept, but Susan suddenly looked up and caught Harry’s eyes as he was reaching for the door handle.

“Going somewhere?” she whispered, causing the others to look at him too.

“I wanted to go talk to Snape,” Harry lied. “Get some sleep, Sue. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“You’re a shit liar,” Susan said plainly. “Don’t leave me, please?”

“D’you want to come then?”

“Tomorrow,” she said with a sad smile. “We’ll kill them all tomorrow.”

Harry wavered for a moment, weighing the need for immediate action against the sight of Susan so pitifully holding her hand out for him.

“Tomorrow,” he sighed. He climbed over the pillows and blankets until he was right beside Susan. “We’ll kill them all tomorrow.”

Susan burrowed herself in Harry’s side, so Harry pulled a blanket up over them while the others got situated.

Harry didn’t care if Timmy was immortal, he didn’t care if Timmy wanted Harry to join him for some berserk reason—

When Susan woke up, they’d make a plan, and Harry would take this pain Susan felt out in Timmy’s blood.

***

‘You’re my favorite honorary son,’ Amelia laughed. She stood beneath a tree, smiling up at Harry and Susan as they perched in a branch. ‘Climb down here and we’ll go on an adventure.’

Susan climbed down, happily throwing herself in Amelia’s arms. Harry was about to join them, but he saw a glint of silver glimmer beneath Amelia’s shirt sleeve by her wrist.

‘Why do you have a knife?’ Harry asked.

Amelia’s eyes flashed, turning from teal to red for a split-second. ‘Don’t worry about that,’ she laughed airily. ‘Come on, Harry, go on an adventure with us.’

‘Come on, Harry!’ Susan yelled up at him with a bright smile and joyful eyes. ‘Join us!’

‘Join us and we’ll kill our enemies together, Harry,’ Amelia hissed in Parsletongue.

Harry’s stomach clenched at the noise. ‘You can’t speak Parsletongue,’ he said slowly. ‘Amelia doesn’t know how. Amelia’s dead.’

Amelia pushed Susan to the side and the knife Harry saw beneath her sleeves snicked to her hand. ‘Join me,’ she hissed, her eyes entirely red now. She aimed the knife at Susan, ‘Join me, Harry, or I’ll kill her.’

‘Harry!’ Susan screamed shrilly. ‘Harry!’

***

“HARRY!”

Harry jerked upright, one hand reaching for Susan, the other summoning his knife.

He blinked and it was Ron’s face in front of him, his skin stark white beneath his freckles.

“Send Snape a message, quick,” he said urgently. “Susan’s hurt.”

Harry looked over where Susan was meant to be, on his right side, where she always was, but all that was beside him were pillows and blankets.

“Where is she?” Harry asked, moving to his feet in one quick movement.

“Bathroom,” Ron said. “Mione found her, healed her, but she needs Snape.”

“Move.” Harry pushed him aside and lunged towards the bathroom. He wasn’t going to go get Snape if Susan was hurt. Harry was already pulling on his magic, welling it up in his hands, preparing to heal Susan when he threw the door open and pulled up short.

“Sue?” he whispered, uncertainly.

Hermione was kneeling in the middle of the marble bathroom floor, her hands were bloody where she clutched at Susan, and her eyes were wide and terrified.

“Snape,” Hermione whispered. “Go get Snape.”

It took Harry a moment to make sense of the blood on the floor, the knife slack in Susan’s golden hand, and the patchy looking raw skin on her left forearm.

As soon as it clicked together in his head, Harry turned on his heel and sprinted for Snape.

He couldn’t have cast a patronus in that moment if he tried.

Chapter Text

Saturday, November 22

Severus sighed down at the pitiful girl now resting in the large bed.

“You will contact me tonight?” Severus asked.

“Of course,” Lupin agreed quietly. “Why don’t you and Harry go back to the castle? Susan is perfectly safe here.”

Severus didn’t even have the energy to sneer at Lupin for such an asinine statement. In the last twenty-four hours, Amelia had been killed, Miss Bones had cut her arm open in a (thankfully) weak suicide attempt, Severus had to quickly meet with Pomona and Albus, and then he had to convince Miss Bones to spend a few days at Moon Lodge where Lupin could watch over her and eventually talk with her.

Lupin likely deserved a raise, but as Severus was not receiving one, neither would he.

And Severus was certain that Harry would be more difficult to deal with while Bones was gone than Bones herself would be.

Severus left after Lupin settled himself in a chair beside Bones’ bed and went downstairs to find his child pacing the sitting room frantically.

“Harry, come along,” Severus said, exhaustion crashing hard in his body. “Lupin will call us tonight with an update.”

“I should stay here,” Harry said, for the tenth time since Severus, Bones, and Pomona decided on this course of action. “I know Susan said she’d be fine here, but she really shouldn’t be alone.”

“She will not be alone,” Severus reminded him. “Lupin is going to keep a close watch on her, and there are others here as well. The full moon is not for another 25 days, and your Susan will be back at the castle by then.”

Severus may as well have been talking to the wall, for all that Harry seemed to hear him. He continued his pacing, his boots beginning to wear a trail in the carpet. Perhaps Lupin or one of the members of his ever-growing pack could memorialize it when Harry was gone:

’Proof of Harry Potter’s Anxiety, 1996’

Severus felt a prick of grief sting the back of his eyes, but he’d occluded too often in the last few hours, so he simply blinked up at the ceiling until it passed.

“Harry, please.” Harry paused his pacing at Severus’ gently pleading tone. Severus finally caught his gaze and gestured to the floo. “Susan will be fine here. May we go?”

If Severus were not exhausted, if Amelia had not just died, if Amelia’s niece was not upstairs accepting help for her overwhelming grief, it would nearly be comical to see Harry’s head flip back and forth rapidly from Severus to the staircase.

“Lupin’ll call us tonight?” Harry asked.

“He will.”

Harry sent one last look at the staircase before rolling his shoulders and nodding curtly. “‘Kay.”

‘Kay’.

Severus followed Harry through the floo, unsurprised that Harry led them directly to Severus’ quarters where Harry immediately sunk down on his sofa and buried his hands in his hair.

Severus sat on the sofa beside him, slowly putting his arm over his shoulders. A comfort for them both, truly.

“She was going to leave me,” Harry whispered. “She was going to join Amelia and leave me behind.”

“No, Harry, I’m certain she was not attempting to leave you,” Severus said quickly. He tightened his hold on Harry and pulled him closer to his side.

“No, you’re right, I’m sure she just cut her arm open for fun.” Harry’s sneer was muffled slightly by his hands, but his cheek even in the face of exhaustion brought a small twitch of fondness to Severus’ lips.

“Susan heard terrible news and reacted without thinking, just as you once had,” Severus reminded him gently. “It was a shallow injury, and we both know that Susan could have cut her arm off with the strength of her right arm if she truly wanted to.”

“Why do it then?” Harry picked his face up and stared blankly at the wall. “Why do it at all if she wasn’t trying to die?”

Severus considered it carefully. He considered the half-mumbled apologies and explanation Bones made during their private discussion, the thoughts Pomona shared in his meeting with her and Albus. He considered how a teenage girl may be feeling after hearing that the largest portion of her last living relative that remained for identification and burial had been her brain.

And why Black and Shacklebolt had thought that would be a piece of information to share with a grieving child, Severus will never know.

“Susan was- is in terrible pain,” Severus said carefully. “She was upset, distressed, and likely believed that the pain would end if she were to die, but did not actually want to die. Does that make sense?”

“No,” Harry huffed and leaned back in his seat, half on Severus, half on the back of the sofa. “Either she wanted to live or she wanted to leave me.”

“Or she wanted the pain to be gone and did not see a different path in the moment,” Severus said gently. He reached out and tentatively brushed Harry’s hair off his forehead. “It is difficult for people to see through their grief, but Susan must have known she could never truly leave you in such a way, or she would be gone.”

“Well she’s gone now, isn’t she?” Harry said quietly. His voice was plaintive, childlike in a way he typically avoided. “And Lupin’s the one who’s going to fix her, again, because I’m fuckin worthless.”

“You are no more worthless than I am,” Severus assured him. “We all have our specialities, Harry. Lupin is merely the one with the type of patience and knowledge of coping with loss that you and I do not have.”

Harry huffed again and seemed to settle more firmly in Severus’ side. “What’s your speciality?” he asked.

“Mine?” Severus looked over at the teenage boy peering up at him and attempted his best efforts at a smirk. “My speciality is potions, idiot child.”

Harry didn’t smile, but his face relaxed just slightly. “And mine?” he asked.

Severus’ smirk felt more natural now. “Revenge, of course. When Miss Bones is ready to burn the world to ash on Amelia’s behalf, you will be the expert.”

Harry laughed quietly and stuck his hand out, silently summoning the quilt Severus once made the terrible mistake of allowing Nymphadora to use.

“Someone has to burn the world down,” Harry said quietly as he tossed the blanket over the two of them. “I’m getting fuckin sick of funerals, aren’t you?”

He was.

Severus believed that Harry’s funeral would be the next one he attended, and instead it would be pushed back in favor of Amelia’s.

“I am,” Severus agreed, his voice rough with barely concealed emotion. “Are we sleeping on this lumpy sofa?”

Harry froze in the process of peeling off his boots. He did not look up, but Severus saw the crimson stain blooming on his cheeks.

Harry mumbled something as he quickly scooted away from Severus. Severus rolled his eyes and kicked his own boots to the floor.

“You will have to assist me in brewing a new bath of extra strength pain relievers tonight,” Severus said calmly as he repositioned himself so he could lay against the arm of the sofa. Harry quickly laid on the opposite arm, and they subsequently began a juvenile kicking match to claim the most space for their almost equally long legs. Severus managed to win, then Harry immediately tossed his legs on top of Severus’ crushing him to the sofa.

“Why extra strength?” Harry murmured.

“Because you and your misfits give me extra strong migraines,” Severus said simply. He waved his wand, dimming the torches along the wall, and fixed the blanket. “Sleep, brat.”

Harry blinked heavily at Severus across the sofa from him and nudged him lightly in the hip with his socked foot. “I’m not gonna wake up to you cutting your arm open, am I?”

Severus easily translated this to mean: ‘don’t leave me.’

“You are not,” Severus assured him thickly. “I could not move if I tried, you are quite heavy.”

Harry’s lips curved upwards for a moment as he seemed to stare in Severus’ eyes, searching for any tell that would cause him to believe Severus was lying to him.

“Wake me when Lupin calls,” Harry eventually said before closing his eyes.

It didn’t take long for Harry’s breaths to become deep and even.

Severus watched him as he slept for longer than his own exhausted mind should have, but the weight of grief was heavy in his mind.

They would bury Amelia soon- what remained of her to be buried.

And, unless Severus gave up his only son, there would be countless other funerals to follow.

“I love you,” Severus whispered roughly to his sleeping child. He tucked the blanket more firmly around Harry before laying back and closing his eyes.

When Severus woke, he was certain it was quite late. He sat up slightly, shaking his head at the patch of wet fabric beneath Harry’s open mouth.

Harry’s habit of drooling in his sleep was somehow both incredibly disgusting and endearing at the same time.

Severus glanced up at the clock and it took him a moment to understand that a quarter after two likely meant am considering they had not returned to the castle until after lunch. Which meant either the Wolf had not called, or Severus and Harry had slept through it. He carefully stretched his arm out to grab his wand off the table and looked at Harry sleeping relatively peacefully before casting his patronus.

He sent the little fox off with a curtly whispered, “How is she?” then settled back to await a response.

When the response came, it came quickly, though irritatingly loud enough to cause Harry to wake up with a jump.

“She woke up after you left and ate dinner then we talked for a while and she went back to sleep. Everything here is fine, I will update you if anything changes. Goodnight.”

Harry blinked as the silver wolf dissipated. “He could have been a bit more specific.”

“He could not have,” Severus said, slowly extracting his legs from beneath Harry’s. “Susan is allowed her privacy to choose what to share with you when she returns. It is not our right to know her every discussion and mood.”

Harry scowled for a moment then dropped it quickly. “You think I could go see her?”

Severus sent a pointed look at the clock, where it was now nearly half past two.

“Probably not then,” Harry sighed. He shuffled around and stretched out as Severus sat up. “You going somewhere?”

“I am going to shower and get some work done since I’m awake now,” Severus told him. “You are quite welcome to go back to sleep.”

Harry yawned and nuzzled the sofa arm. “Might do that,” he said. “Wake me up in a few hours and we’ll have breakfast.”

“Certainly. Perhaps we will go ensure the Wolf did not eat Susan afterwards.”

Harry’s lips turned upwards for a moment. “Lupin’s not as bad as I thought, even if I would personally rather shag noseless before I did him.”

Severus was startled by that queer and factually spoken statement and huffed out a quiet laugh. “Disturbing, Harry,” he said. “You are very disturbing.”

“Ta,” Harry murmured. “Night.”

Severus shook his head at him once more before setting off to get a very early start to his day.

After a calming shower, and repairing any tears in his mental barriers that he brought on himself with his morbid thoughts, Severus settled down at the dining table with a cup of coffee and a stack of essays rife with misspellings from his first year students.

Severus had made it through two cups of coffee, an entire bottle of red ink, and a third of the essays when a silver cat patronus gracefully flew through his walls and settled itself in front of him.

“I believe I have something that belongs to you in the Hospital Wing,” Minerva said through the cats mouth.

Severus stood and saw that Harry’s messy head of black hair was still snoring softly on the sofa, Bones was at Moon Lodge, which left...

Theodore or Lovegood.

“Fuck,” Severus swore quietly. He hastily scrawled a note to Harry and left it levitating by his head, in case he woke before he returned, and hastened out the door.

Severus moved quickly through the corridors, dropping his stoic persona in favor of hurrying to discover which child did what now. He thankfully passed no one, aside from the Bloody Baron who nodded to him. When he approached the Hospital Wing he took a steadying breath before opening the door and looking for either Theodore’s brown hair or Lovegood’s blonde.

What he found, was pink.

“Ah, Severus, so glad you could join us,” Minerva called from Nymphadora’s bedside. “Perhaps you can explain to Miss Tonks the dangers of apparation after drinking.”

Severus stepped up quickly and sighed when he saw the freshly pink skin on Nymphadora’s right calf.

“Fool,” he scowled at Nymphadora who ignored him in favor of openly glowering at Minerva.

“I told you not to bother him,” she told Minerva hotly. “It’s Sunday.”

“You didn’t seem to mind bothering him when you apparated to our gates and left a blood trail behind you,” Minerva said drily. “Severus, this is your problem. Good day.”

Severus watched as Minerva stalked off to Poppy’s office, undoubtedly to cluck over this new piece of gossip together over tea.

“Sorry, Sev.” Nymphadora rolled down her trouser leg and covered the recent injury. “I had a bit too much to drink, thought I’d come see you, and forgot it was Sunday until someone sobered me right up.”

“Someone sobered you, or the splinching sobered you?” Severus asked. He held his hand out politely to assist Nymphadora in standing.

“Little bit of both.”

Severus looked her over as she pulled on his hand to stand and frowned at the obvious signs of distress. In the initial grief of losing Amelia, his panic over Susan, and his general state of exhaustion, he had forgotten that Nymphadora had been quite close to Amelia.

“Were you drinking alone?” Severus asked her.

“No,” Nymphadora waved one hand with a forced air of ease. “A lot of us from the DMLE went out together. To... well...” she frowned and lifted one shoulder, “you know.”

“Aah.”

“Yeah.” Nymphadora pulled her hand free and jammed both hands in her pockets. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you Friday? Or... or Wednesday, I guess. A-Amelia’s services are on Wednesday morning.”

Severus sighed and rolled his eyes at her. “Come eat breakfast. You should not be apparating on an empty stomach.”

Nymphadora’s shoulders tightened then slumped. “Sev, I’m fine,” she smiled, though it appeared strained. “Go have breakfast with Harry, I’ve got a lot to get done today.”

“You don’t work Sundays,” Severus reminded her. “Harry will forgive us this one intrusion.”

“Or he’ll kill me,” Nymphadora muttered, but she followed along regardless.

Severus snuck a few subtle glanced at Nymphadora as they walked together in silence and frowned at what he saw.

“You look unwell,” Severus said gently.

Nymphadora snorted, “And you have such a way with words.”

There was a reason Severus called Lupin to handle Susan— Emotions were messy and Severus preferred to keep his messes in the potions lab.

He hesitated outside the entrance to his quarters. “If you want someone to talk to about it...”

Nymphadora gave Severus a small smile and placed her hand on his arm. “Thanks,” she said genuinely. “I’ll take you up on that sometime.”

...he had been about to recommend Lupin.

Though that didn’t seem to be how she took it.

Severus nodded and then slowly opened the door, letting out a breath of relief that Harry was still asleep.

“Aww, he looks a bit less terrifying in his sleep,” Nymphadora said quietly with a playful grin.

Severus held back a scoff and waited for Nymphadora to follow him to the dining table before flicking his wand and casting a nonverbal muffliato to ensure they did not wake Harry.

Which, typically, is what woke the paranoid child.

Harry slowly stretched on the sofa, kicking his legs out like a ridiculous gangly fawn. He mumbled something in to the arm rest and sat up with a lazy stretch. “Sev? Oh. Tonks?”

“Wotcher, Harry,” Nymphadora said with an expression that seemed torn between a smile and a grimace. “Sorry for intruding.”

Harry blinked at Nymphadora.

He blinked at Severus.

Then Harry rolled his eyes.

“Think I can go see Sue?” he asked casually with a pointed look at the clock.

“Certainly, after you eat,” Severus said. “She may still be sleeping.”

“Where’s Susan at?” Nymphadora asked, a bit curtly. “Is she not here?”

“None of your business,” Harry snapped.

“Yes, my business,” Nymphadora said, unfazed by Harry’s tone. “Is she not in the castle?”

“She is with Remus Lupin for a few days,” Severus said, intervening in what seemed to be a blossoming argument. “Resting away from the chaos of the castle.”

“Oh,” Nymphadora sighed and relaxed. “Gotcha.”

Severus felt incredibly awkward as Harry narrowed his eyes at Nymphadora for a long moment.

“Mavis,” Severus called, desperate to break the uncomfortable tension.

Mavis, thankfully, did not tardy as he popped in Severus’ dining room. “Mister Snoops is, Oh!” Mavis blinked owlishly at Nymphadora before dipping his head in a bow. “Mister Snoops is having Miss Tonks over, without my Master Harry? On Sunday?”

Harry scoffed, drawing Mavis’ eyes to him.

“Oh! Master Harry!” Mavis smiled then frowned and pulled on one of his ears nervously. “Mavis is hearing about Misses Susan’s aunt, can Mavis be sending Miss Susan her pumpkin pasties?”

“That’d be brill,” Harry said warmly. “Can you send them to Moon Lodge?”

“Of course,” Mavis bowed with a wide smile once more. “Shall Mavis be bringing breakfast for you’s?”

Harry’s eyes flicked to Nymphadora quickly before Severus saw his jaw clench and unclench. “Yeah, if you don’t mind, for three of us?”

Severus felt a bit of pride unfurling. Harry truly had matured past his pettier behaviors- to an extent. At a minimum, he seemed willing to share breakfast with Nymphadora on a Sunday.

Mavis popped away with a quick agreement and Harry warily moved towards the table.

“Well, this is awkward,” Nymphadora said brightly as the three of them sat in silence for the longest two minutes of Severus’ life.

“A bit,” Harry agreed with a faint grin. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“I got pissed at the pub with some of the others from the DMLE and thought I’d come irritate Sev,” Nymphadora said shamelessly. “I splinched the hell out of my leg and Poppy had to patch me up.”

“Why were you coming to irritate Sev?”

“He’s fun to irritate,” Nymphadora shrugged.

“Have you given him a migraine yet?” Harry smirked as the food popped up on the table.

“Does he have migraines?” Nymphadora asked curiously.

Severus scowled and sat back as he was clearly not included in their discussion.

“Loads of them,” Harry grinned. “Cissa swears he’s going prematurely grey too. I suppose you aren’t irritating him properly if you haven’t given him a migraine, have you?”

“Teach me your ways, oh wise one,” Nymphadora laughed.

“Or hurry up and eat and go see your Susan,” Severus said.

Harry frowned and began eating with a speed that was both unbecoming and disgusting.

“Don’t choke,” Nymphadora told him before turning to Severus. “Albus said he’s canceling classes on Wednesday since Amelia is... was such an important witch.”

“As he should,” Severus said truthfully. “I know at least nearly a dozen students who wish to attend.”

“The Ministry is covering everything,” Nymphadora told him. “There’s supposed to be a big thing in the paper tomorrow I think.”

Severus nodded, unsure how he was meant to respond. “Will Shacklebolt be taking her spot within the DMLE?”

Severus did not have to look up to feel Harry’s scowl at the mention of the auror. Shacklebolt and Harry had seemed to have built a terrible rapport between them. Likely due to Shacklebolt’s insistence that Harry was a killer and Harry’s natural distrust of anyone who works with Albus.

It was understandable on both ends.

“No,” Nymphadora scrunched her nose and stabbed especially hard at an egg with her fork. “Pius Thicknesse.”

Severus struggled to place the name. “Is he a tolerable replacement?”

“Not at all,” Nymphadora said bluntly. “He’s a pureblood, he’s spouted off some nasty rhetoric before.”

“Fuck him then,” Harry sneered. “I’m done, I’m going to Moon Lodge, I’ll be back later.”

“Be back by dinner, please,” Severus told him as Harry jumped to his feet. “I would prefer not to explain to Albus why my floo was activated past curfew.”

“‘Kay.” Harry gave Severus and Nymphadora a two fingered salute then practically sprinted to the floo.

“I reckon he didn’t want his trainers then?” Nymphadora asked after Harry spun away to Moon Lodge dressed in the same clothes he has had on since Friday night and his socks.

“Apparently not,” Severus said, relatively unconcerned with Harry’s footwear. He placed his fork down and folded his hands on the table. “You and Amelia were close, how are you?”

“Miserable,” Nymphadora said baldly. “How are you?”

Severus was taken aback by her question and answered a bit too truthfully. “Surprised and rather unhappy, I suppose.”

Nymphadora sighed heavily. “It was surprising,” she said softly. “But Amelia died a hero, she saved a lot of lives and took down three death eaters in one go.”

“And left behind her niece,” Severus added.

“Why is Susan at Moon Lodge?” Nymphadora asked. “If she’s with Remus then she can’t be doing that great, can she?”

“She is not,” Severus said carefully. He wanted to appease Nymphadora’s nerves about Susan’s placement, but did not want to divulge the privacy Susan deserved. “I am hopeful that Lupin may have more success in assisting her in working her grief out in a healthy manner.”

Nymphadora seemed to weigh his words for a moment. “That makes it sound like she’s doing badly, very badly.”

Severus inclined his head, silently agreeing.

Abruptly, Nymphadora jumped to her feet, tripping slightly over her chair leg as she shoved it to the table. “Thanks for breakfast, Sev,” she said. “I need to go, I’ve got something to take care of.”

Severus was once more caught off guard by the witch. “Do you need assistance?”

“No,” Nymphadora gave him a lopsided grin, “Thanks though. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

Severus hardly blinked twice before Nymphadora too floo’d away, headed to the Ministry.

On a Sunday.

When she was off work.

Severus shook off his bemusement at Nymphadora’s abrupt departure, and cleared the table manually, using the menial task to clear his mind. Amelia’s death, while crushing to lose such a remarkable witch from the world, was unsurprising. The Dark Lord worked towards similar aims at the beginning of the last war, the more ministry officials he could take out, the more he could replace with others who would be more willing to follow his lead.

Amelia would have never followed the Dark Lord, and thus, she had fallen.

The Minister of Magic would be next, Severus was certain.

Unless it’s Harry.

Unless it is Harry.

And, as Severus had essays to grade, teenage girls mental health to worry over, recently orphaned teenage girls to worry over, and his own teenaged child to worry about his mental health—

He would rather not consider the likelihood of Harry outliving Cornelius Fudge at the moment.

Severus worked quickly to grade the remainder of the essays he had to complete, keeping an eye on the clock as he worked. Once he completed his duties as a professor, he hesitated for a moment with his quill above a fresh piece of parchment.

Should he? Should he not?

It is better to at least ask now, then speak to Harry and Susan, he decided.

Ministry of Magic,
Dept. of Child Welfare:
I am uncertain if Miss Amelia Bones left a will regarding the living arrangements for her niece, Susan Bones. However, if not, I would appreciate you considering myself for placement as I am the current legal guardian of Susan’s close friend and distant cousin, Harry Potter.
Please contact me at Hogwarts if this would be an option for Miss Susan Bones.
-Severus T. Snape

Severus had no more than rolled the parchment and sealed it, before his floo flared to life at nearly five o’clock.

“‘M back,” Harry called dully before sprawling on the sofa.

Clearly, his visit had gone well.

Severus moved slowly to the sitting room and chose a chair across from Harry, hoping to prompt him in to talking.

“How is Susan?” Severus asked evenly.

“Sad. Miserable. Pissed.”

“Pissed?” Severus repeated. “At you?”

“Yup.”

Severus breathed slowly, counting to ten as he did.

It had been remiss of him to send Harry to visit Miss Bones alone, apparently. Harry, while maturing and empathizing in ways Severus once believed him to be incapable of, still had a terrible bedside manner.

“Why is Susan angry with you?”

Harry chewed on his lip as he blinked up at the ceiling. Severus waited patiently, as he oftentimes had to do to give Harry time to organize his thoughts.

“This,” Harry said. He held his arms up, flashing the bare forearms covered in scars.

It took Severus a moment to understand his line of thought.

“You... you discussed your past history with Susan?” Severus worked hard to keep the shock from his voice. That would be a nearly unprecedented first for Harry, to willingly expose a part of his own vulnerable history in a show of actual true empathy.

Harry would choose now to grow and mature in leaps and bounds. He would begin to show the man he should someday become when Severus knew it was a man he would be unable to truly grow in to.

Severus summoned a bottle of bourbon as his thoughts steadily spiraled.

“Can I have a drink?” Harry asked, rolling his head to the side and watching Severus pour himself a healthy measure.

Why not?

“Why not?” Severus murmured. He summoned another tumbler and filled it partly full for Harry. “Tell me about your conversation with Susan and you may have one glass if you agree to stay here tonight.”

“Deal.” Harry summoned the glass straight from Severus’ hand and threw it back with more ease than a teenage boy should have. “I told Susan she wasn’t allowed to fuckin leave me, didn’t I? And she said I didn’t understand, and I bloody well do, don’t I? So I told her that. And then she had the fuckin audacity to get pissed at me! Said ‘how dare I try leaving her’, as if she didn’t do the same damn thing!”

That... was quite hypocritical of the girl. Although, in her defense, her aunt had just died and she clearly did not have a good handle of her emotions.

“So you fought,” Severus said.

“We had a bit of a row, then fuckin Lupin came running in, and I changed my mind, he’s a prat, isn’t he? And so then Lupin had the fuckin audacity to turn our row in to a ‘counseling session’. Don’t you dare pay him for it, Sev,” Harry sat up and pointed threateningly at Severus. “I told him to piss off, but Susan,” Harry sneered her name for the first time in Severus’ memory, “decided we were going to ‘talk about it’.”

Severus raised an interested brow, “And did you?”

“I’m supposed to tell Sue no when Amelia just died?” Harry scoffed. “She’s a manipulative twit.”

Susan may be manipulative, but Severus found himself feeling quite fond towards the girl who quite literally twisted Harry’s arm in to discussing his own suicide attempt.

“How did that go?” Severus asked neutrally.

“Susan cried,” Harry scowled. “I think Lupin was going to cry too, so I told Susan I’d pop by tomorrow and left before he did. I’ll deal with Susan crying, I’m not gonna see bloody Lupin do it, am I? It makes me itch Sev.”

“Understandable,” Severus smirked. He levitated the bottle of bourbon to Harry and had it tap on his glass until Harry quickly held his glass up and accepted the small measure Severus gave him.

“Cheers, Sev,” Harry said, raising his glass. “At least someone understands me.”

“Which says quite a bit about my own descent in to madness,” Severus smirked, raising his cup.

***

Harry began a queer routine over the next couple of days. On Monday and Tuesday, he ate breakfast with Severus in his quarters, then dashed off to his absurdly short morning classes. He ate lunch in the Great Hall with his misfits, then floo’d to Moon Lodge to attend ‘platonics couples counseling’ (as Harry so eloquently called it) and discussed suicide, grief, and depression with Lupin and Bones.

He floo’d back to Severus’ quarters in time for dinner, which he ate in the dining room while complaining loudly about Lupin and Bones both.

“Susan’s a hypocrite!” Harry howled Monday night. “‘You didn’t tell me!’ Oh, what? She jumped up to tell me?! Before I was supposed to find her dead body in the fuckin loo? I was sleeping in alleys, wasn’t I? She doesn’t have a real good excuse.”

Severus hummed in neither agreement, nor disagreement.

They were both monsters, truly.

Severus adored them.

Tuesday night, Harry complained about Lupin as he stabbed aggressively at his potatoes. “He wants me to talk about sex with Fred, suicide with Sue, what’s next Sev? My dead parents with you?”

“We could,” Severus offered calmly.

“You’re a dick,” Harry sneered.

Harry also slept in Severus’ quarters Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday night. Severus frowned when he realized what a restless sleeper Harry was, and when he heard him crying out his mother’s name in his sleep again.

It was pitiful.

’She would hate me.’

And nothing Severus said could convince the child otherwise, so Severus began working on a new form of dreamless sleep. Harry could hardly take it every night, as it was both addictive and created a terribly physical dependency on it over time, but he began working on a new formula in the hours he had free.

Until Wednesday.

Wednesday was as truly terrible as Severus suspected it would be.

“No,” Severus told Harry at breakfast.

“No what?” Harry murmured, his eyes flicking to the liquor cabinet.

“You will not sully Amelia’s memory by attending her services inebriated,” Severus said firmly.

“Sirius is,” Harry said sullenly.

“I will kill him if so,” Severus swore.

Harry blinked at him, “You’d sully Amelia’s memory by committing murder at her funeral?”

“Fuck off, Harry,” Severus sighed.

Harry smirked, but it lasted only until they were dressed in their dress robes and waited on the rest of his misfits to join them. Albus, true to his word, had cancelled classes for the day and arranged for any student who wanted to attend to be transported to and from the funeral.

Severus was unsurprised that the majority of Hufflepuff house went. He was rather shocked that the entirety of Slytherin, aside from two exceptions, also went.

Apparently, the right hand of the ‘Heir of Slytherin’ and burgeoning war general, earned a show of support from the Slytherin students.

It truly was heartening to witness such an unprecedented showing from the house Severus led with such pride.

“I hate funerals,” Harry complained as they waited for the others. He pulled on the collar of his dress shirt and looked horribly uncomfortable. “Everyone cries.”

“That is the natural reaction to a sad event,” Severus said. He was not unsympathetic, he too disliked funerals. “If you do not know what to say, it is best to remain quiet.”

Harry gave him a juvenile roll of his eyes and an annoyed ‘I’m not an idiot’ sort of look.

This was how Severus wanted to remember Harry.

One day, when it was Harry’s funeral Severus would be attending, this is how Severus will remember him. Irritable and cheeky and himself.

For as long as Harry’s funeral lasted anyway, because Severus would follow him after ensuring his child was buried with all the accolades the chaotic demon deserved.

They made a solemn group as they floo’d to the Ministry together. Harry’s friends were dressed nicely and were as pale faced and teary eyed as the other mourners were in the atrium.

Severus watched as Susan flew straight from the floo to Harry’s arms. He also watched with a sense of bitter pride as Harry remained by Susan’s side throughout the entirety of the service, despite Frederick’s attendance, and despite Harry’s blatant discomfort at the many, many, mourners who approached Susan and sobbed over the pair of them.

“They look like adults,” Black said morosely as he stood with Severus, Lupin, and Nymphadora and watched Susan gracefully accept well-wishers with a brave face and Harry on her arm.

“It’s not fair, they have to grow up so quickly,” Nymphadora said. Her hair, which seemed to reflect her emotions at times, was a dark brown and pulled back in a sensible bun.

Severus sorely missed the pink bob she typically wore.

“We’ll finish this war then and hope their kids don’t have to,” Lupin said with an air of optimism that stabbed Severus in the heart.

If they finished this war, Harry would never grow to have kids.

If they allowed Harry to grow to adulthood, this war would never be finished.

“No matter what happens, I lose him,” Severus breathed in Nymphadora’s ear as they took their seat. “Either this is the first of hundreds of funerals, or—”

“Or the next one is Harry’s.” Nymphadora grabbed Severus’ hand and squeezed it tightly. “We can’t let that happen. Look at him, look how far he’s come. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Life rarely was.

Severus listened as many officials, including the Minister himself, spoke about Amelia that day.

They spoke of her passion for justice.

Her love of her niece.

Her bravery.

Her loyalty.

Her spirit and her joy.

Her wit and her intelligence.

“Amelia was one of the greatest witches I have ever had the pleasure of knowing,” Kingsley Shacklebolt said to a crowd of over three hundred attendants. “I believe she is watching us now, watching to see what choices we make in her memory. And I choose to act with as much spirit, integrity, and bravery as Amelia Bones did.” Shacklebolt raised his wand, and lit the tip with a lumos as the atrium lights were dimmed, “To Amelia!”

“To Amelia!” the crowd cried with their own lit wands.

Severus was glad for the dark. For only in the dark could he allow a single tear to fall in memory of one of his truest friends. A single tear in remembrance of one of the kindest witches he had ever known, and a single tear as he considered whose funeral he would attending next.

“To Amelia,” he whispered.

Chapter Text

Friday, December 12

“You swear?” Harry whispered in the mirror.

“Solemnly,” Fred grinned.

“How many?” Susan asked over Harry’s shoulder.

“Two dozen.”

“Oh my God, how?” Susan breathed, a real spark of excitement in her voice.

Fred turned his head left and right, looking around to ensure his privacy before leaning towards the mirror like a dramatic prat. “Magic,” he whispered.

“Dump him,” Susan said flatly, throwing herself back on Harry’s headboard. “What an arse.”

“He’s an arse with two dozen guns,” Harry reminded her.

“Fine.” Susan flipped her hand in the air. “You shouldn’t marry him though, I’ve changed my mind, you and I should get married.”

“The Vice Minister cannot be the Minister’s wife!” Fred yelled.

“Sorry,” Harry smirked in the mirror, “Susan was here first—”

“And I’m here now while you’re out fucking around,” Sudan chimed in.

Fred made big blue puppy eyes at Harry, who blinked at him, unimpressed.

“Fine,” Fred said. “I suppose I’ll see what Verity is doing for the rest of her life...”

“I hate you,” Harry scowled. He hated that witch with her long pretty blonde hair, her soft laughter, and her long legs that worked with Fred every day while Harry was trapped in Hogwarts. “It’s going to be your fault when I snap and kill her one day.”

“He’s gay Harry,” Susan sighed. She shook her head at Harry and nearly smiled. “You jealous thing.”

Harry shrugged then gave Fred a sheepish grin. “See you tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Fred winked. “Bye Suzie-Q! See you tomorrow, my love.”

“He’s ridiculous,” Susan said after Harry hung up. “How do you put up with him?”

“The same way I do you, I suppose,” Harry shrugged. He checked his wristwatch and grimaced. “Are we doing this?”

Susan sighed heavily and nodded. “I guess so.”

Since Susan sighed, Harry briefly considered asking if they could skip it tonight, but then he remembered what Lupin said and he sighed as well.

’It would be helpful for Susan.’

Harry didn’t care what the Sorting Hat said, Lupin was as manipulative and cunning as any Slytherin.

Harry doubled their privacy charms before turning to face Susan on the bed. “Five minutes, go.”

“Today was terrible,” Susan said immediately. “Professor Sprout still looks like she’s going to cry every time she sees me. I’m sick of our classmates acting like I’m some tragic orphan. And it’s bloody daft I have to go to a meeting this week about having a guardian when I’m going to be seventeen before school gets out this summer and everyone knows I’m moving in with you. I’m so horribly sad, all the time, but this morning I laughed at Luna and then felt guilty for laughing because I should be sad forever even though I think Auntie would hate that.”

“Forty five seconds,” Harry told her.

“I’m lonely,” Susan said. “I want a Fred or Draco or Hermione for myself. Even Ron is practically in a relationship now and I want someone to myself as well. Or am I just sad and think a relationship would fill this hole in my heart?”

“Time,” Harry said when the second hand passed the 12. He carefully considered everything Susan said in her five minutes. “I don’t think you should feel bad for laughing, I think Amelia would be happy if you laughed. She liked to see you laugh, and I do too. You can just tell them at that meeting that you want Snape to be your guardian too, I’m sure he won’t mind. If anyone looks at you pitifully then you should hiss at them, that’s what I do. And if you want to date someone, ask them out, I guess. Who would say no to you? You’re perfect.”

Susan gave Harry a half-hearted smile and held her hand out for his watch. “Your turn.”

Harry ground his teeth as he undid his watch and handed it over. He didn’t mind listening to Susan’s problems, but he hated sharing his own.

Susan politely didn’t look at him, she tilted her face down to the watch, letting her curtain of red curls hide her face. “And, go.”

Harry pulled at the yarn on the blanket they were sitting on, feeling the cord stretch and release between his fingers. “I hate when it’s cold outside,” he said, talking slowly to try and stretch out his five minutes. “I think it reminds me of the dementors. I still think this is stupid, but I want you to be happy again, so I’m doing it.”

“Your feelings, Harry,” Susan hummed. “Or I reset the clock.”

“Fine,” Harry grit out. “I feel cold, I feel bored, and I feel like- like either everyone’s going to hate me or die, and I hate that, don’t I? I was hoping Snape would be too busy to remember my potion on Wednesday so I didn’t have to fucking take it so I could fly for a while, but he remembered and I couldn’t just not take it in front of him. I hate how bloody depressing the castle is right now, and I can’t wait for Christmas break so we can all go home for a bit.”

“One minute left,” Susan said.

“I feel like nothing is going good lately and if I get one more fucking bit of bad news that I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Time.”

Harry huffed out an enormous sigh and threw himself back on the headboard beside Susan. Susan made it look easy, but talking about your ‘feelings’ for five minutes a day was bloody exhausting.

“My turn to comment,” Sudan said quietly, nestling in to Harry’s side. “I think you’re drowning, I think it’s just not as bad as it used to be, so you don’t think you’re drowning, but you are. None of us could ever hate you. And maybe- maybe we just have to find our own happiness?” Susan grinned, and it wasn’t as bright as her old grin, but Harry knew she was doing it just for him. “Do I sound like Lupin?” she asked. She stuck her nose in the air haughtily. “Your feelings are valid, Harry. No emotion you feel is wrong.”

Harry forced a short laugh to pay her back for trying to smile for him. “Everyone needs support,” he quoted back to her. “I think you two would be excellent support for one another.”

“Of course we are,” Susan said primly. She scooted to Harry’s side and laid her head on his shoulder. “You’re my best friend, stupid.”

“Are we done?” Harry asked, a bit desperately. “Can we go to sleep now?”

“God yes,” Susan said. She pulled the rainbow blanket that Luna made Harry down so they could slip beneath it. Harry flipped over on his stomach, his face turned away from Susan because he was sick of getting her hair in his mouth while he slept, and he reached out hesitantly to grab her hand.

“I love you,” Susan said quietly. “I couldn’t do this without you, you know.”

“Do what?” Harry asked, his voice just as quiet as hers.

“Any of it,” she said seriously. “I just couldn’t bear any of this without you.”

“Same,” Harry admitted. It was easier like this, when it was dark and they didn’t have to see each other. It made it seem more like they could pretend they didn’t say these horribly vulnerable and weak things in the morning. “Don’t ever try and leave me again, please. I’d probably die without you.”

“You definitely would,” Susan whispered, “because you’re an idiot.”

Harry snorted, glad the moment was over. “Go to sleep, you twit.”

Harry and Susan were jolted awake by Trent throwing open the bed curtains with a huge slightly bucktoothed smile and a hasty, nearly corporeal, shield.

“Is today the day?” Trent asked.

“Kill him,” Susan mumbled in her pillow. “Just kill him and let’s go back to sleep.”

“Trent, leave Susan alone,” Hermione said bossily from Theo’s bed. “She’s tired. It’s Saturday. Let her sleep in.”

Ever since Susan came back to school, Hermione’s been as glued to Susan’s side as Susan had been Harry’s.

Which was actually a little annoying because Hermione had a lot of strong opinions on Harry’s activities.

And Harry didn’t care if Theo was a great brother or not, if his girlfriend called Harry ‘unmotivated’ one more time, then Harry would curse her.

He wasn’t sure how smuggling two dozen guns and a crate of ammo from the States clear to Hogwarts was ‘unmotivated’. Or how killing Timmy and Dumbledore was ‘unmotivated’. But he was beginning to think Hermione needed to sort out her priorities.

Except Susan was thrilled with spending more time with Hermione, for some ungodly reason. Apparently Hermione ‘saved her life’, as if Harry wouldn’t have saved her...

...if he had woken up to use the loo when Hermione did.

Harry did owe her something for saving Susan’s life, but he hadn’t cursed her so far, so he had hoped that would count.

“Susan, I’m going to my dorm to get dressed, do you want to come?” Hermione asked kindly.

“No, I’m wearing Harry’s clothes,” Susan said simply. She yawned and stretched on the bed, kicking Harry as she did. Harry got up and scowled down half-heartedly at her. She was already in his tshirt. Harry had no idea when she’d formed an emotional attachment to his clothes, but it was annoying seeing her snag his favorite shirts or jackets right before he did.

“PJ is also wearing Harry’s clothes,” Blaise said, smirking at the jumper of Harry’s that he outgrew and gave to Trent. “And,” Blaise sent a pointed look at Harry and Theo, “what happened to no shagging in our dorm? Hmm?”

“Did you have sex in here?” Harry quickly glowered at Theo in true irritation. “We fuckin agreed.”

“No, we didn’t agree, you told us,” Ron muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Harry ignored him.

“We did not have sex in here, we just- just cuddled,” Theo said, his face bright red as Blaise and Trent snickered.

“Theo’s girlfriend isn’t the one half dressed,” Draco said, glancing where one of Susan’s bare legs was pointing out from beneath Harry’s quilt.

“Susan isn’t my girlfriend,” Harry said flatly. “You know that. Grow up, guys.”

“You’re right,” Ron said, “She just sleeps in your bed... Half dressed... Wears your clothes...”

“Says she loves you...” Blaise said.

“Makes you plates at meals...” Theo grinned.

“And you two do everything together,” Trent added, glancing at the other boys with a grin that stretched when Draco winked approvingly at him.

“I’m sorry you boys never had a best friend, but Harry and I are not dating,” Susan said firmly, finally rolling around and sitting up. “I am in fact single, tell your friends. I think I’d like to try dating.”

“Go out with Neville,” Blaise suggested quickly. “He’s handsome, funny, smart, and very nice. He’d make a great boyfriend.”

“Susan doesn’t want someone ‘so nice’,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “She wants someone kind, but a bit rough around the edges.”

Harry ignored the others as they teased Susan and tried to make her smile. He chewed on his lower lip and watched Theo closely through hooded eyes. There had to be something he could offer him...

“Theo,” Harry interrupted the others abruptly after coming up with a brill idea, “You can shag Mione in our dorm if you won’t throw—”

“I will absolutely throw a fit. Don’t you dare,” Theo scowled. “I would rather be intimate with my girlfriend in the bloody Great Hall with all the Gryffindors watching and writing essays critiquing my form and stamina than have you bring a crate of guns in to our dorm.”

Harry blinked in surprise.

Hermione blushed bright red and sputtered a protest.

Blaise, Ron, and Draco all imagined that scenario with grimaces of various levels of distaste.

Trent scrunched his nose up, obviously a bit confused, as usual.

Then, the best noise Harry had heard in weeks, filled the room with a practically musical sound.

“I’m sorry, you would rather fucking what?” Susan gasped. She rolled on her side on Harry’s bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, suddenly laughing as loudly and earnestly as she used to.

For the first time since the night they were told Amelia died.

Harry felt his lips curl up in a smile, watching Susan’s infectious laughter cause the others to laugh, and he carefully stepped closer to Theo.

“That’s the only reason I’m not bringing them in our dorm,” Harry murmured quietly, nodding his head at his giggling best friend. “Otherwise I would.”

Theo looked over his shoulder where Hermione was now giggling next to Susan, and his eyes softened as he watched the two girls for a moment.

“Happy to be of service,” he said sarcastically. “No bloody guns in our dorm.”

“No more guns in our dorm,” Harry said with a sharp smile and a friendly wink.

A couple of hours later, everyone was bundled up and standing in the entrance hall, planning on walking to Hogsmeade together.

Harry felt a bit smothered as he had Susan, Hermione, and Theo chatting about runes on one side of him. Luna and Draco on his other side, cuddled to each other’s side and whispering back and forth with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Ron, Neville, Blaise, and Daphne were in front of him, arguing lightly over some bit of defensive magic they’d been learning in class. Trent and Sapphire right behind him, loudly talking about gobstones. Harry liked being around his friends, but he would be relieved when they reached Hogsmeade and inevitably split up and Harry could meet up with Fred and enjoy a bit of quiet.

He missed Fred, much more than he expected he had been able to miss another person.

Harry looked around subtly at his friends. How had he become so dependent on these people? Harry always knew it, from the time he was young and saw kids dying on the streets, but Amelia’s death just drove home the reminder that no matter how fond of anyone Harry might be, they could die.

At least a few of them would probably die before Harry did, even if they all outlived Dumbledore himself.

And then what would he do?

Harry sighed and buried his hands a little deeper in his pockets, his thoughts swirling effortlessly towards a dark vision of a world without his gang, his friends, where he was alone. He was brilliant, powerful and strong, but he was pathetic and weak without his friends. And he had no idea how that had happened.

It was this vision, of Harry alone and trying to stumble over his obstacles without anyone beside him, that carried him in to Hogsmeade.

“What’s the plan, Harry?” Susan asked him.

Harry peeked towards the Hogs Head, where he knew Fred would be waiting. “I’m going to meet Fred, d’you wanna come with? We’re moving that stuff today.”

“Can we come?” Trent asked, Sapphire looking at them curiously.

“No,” Harry said. “You’re not sneaky at fuckin all and I’m not getting expelled because you’re too damn loud.”

“Hey!” Trent yelled, loudly, proving Harry’s point. “I am too sneaky!”

Harry raised an unimpressed brow at him.

“I am!” Trent protested. “I stole your scarf today and you didn’t even notice.”

“I did notice,” Harry drawled, narrowing his eyes at the green Slytherin scarf Snape bought him. It had been one of Harry’s first ever gifts, and if Trent ruined it then Harry would hex the hell out of him. “And I’m still pissed, aren’t I? More reason for you to go do something else for a bit. Take your girlfriend to get chocolate, or something.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Sapphire asked Trent with a crease between her brows as Trent turned a furious red color and scowled at Harry before grabbing Sapphire’s hand and storming away.

“That’s him taken care of then,” Harry huffed out a laugh. “Sue, what’s your plans?”

Susan kicked a pile of snow, sending flakes up in the air around them all, and shrugged. “I was going to go to the bookstore with Hermione, but I can come with you instead.”

Oh thank God.

Harry loved Susan, perhaps more than any other person in the world, but between the long days of counseling together at Moon Lodge, the long nights talking in Harry’s bed every night, and the way she kept ripping his chest open and causing him to expose the weak and raw parts of himself that he would rather keep hidden—

Harry desperately needed a short little break from Susan.

Harry caught Hermione’s eyes, and Hermione looked up to the sky, then down to her shiny shoes.

She would keep Susan safe for a few hours.

“Nope, no problem,” Harry said, trying to sound casual and breezy as opposed to hasty and relieved. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he needed a chance to fucking breath too. “You lot have fun,” he said, already backing away quickly, “See you later.”

Harry didn’t run, but it was a near thing.

When he burst through the door of the Hogs Head a few minutes later, his eyes immediately skipped over Abeforth, skipped over the skulking and dark robed customers hidden in the corner by the bar, and landed on Fred.

“Fucking thank God,” Harry sighed. He threw himself immediately in the booth beside Fred and tried to soak up his... his... his something that made him so damn simple to be around.

“Miss me?” Fred asked quietly, throwing his arm over Harry’s shoulder and waving his wand in his other hand, giving them a hazy shield for privacy.

Harry hummed noncommittally, unwilling to mention just yet that he actually had missed him. Instead, he busied himself with removing his jacket and trying to be as close to Fred as he could without seeming like he was being clingy.

It was odd, as only fifteen minutes ago he’d thought he wanted space from people, but now he found he’d rather be jammed by Fred’s side than anywhere else.

“Everyone’s driving me mad,” Harry said glumly once he felt he probably couldn’t be any closer to Fred without climbing in his lap.

Which he absolutely would not be doing.

In public.

“What are they doing?” Fred asked, his tone even and his arm steady as it wrapped around Harry’s shoulders.

“Breathing,” Harry quipped, then immediately winced. “Not that,” he said hastily, drawing a pattern on the table with his thumb. “It’s just... just... Trent keeps stealing my clothes! And Ron and Blaise want to talk all the time. And Draco walks around looking like he’s the happiest bloke in the entire world, even though his dad is in fuckin prison. Theo and Hermione are always either reading, or studying, or just- being in love, I guess. Susan is so damn sad, and I can’t fix it, and we keep talking about ‘feelings’ which drives me mad, but I want her to stop crying herself to sleep at night. Luna can’t help with Susan, because when Susan cries, Luna cries, and I can’t handle them both crying at the same time. Snape’s got all this stupid secret shit he’s doing, and I’m the one who can’t breathe! They’re suffocating me, Fred!”

Fred, to his never ending credit, didn’t laugh at Harry’s heated and selfish rant. He just listened patiently as Harry complained about the only people in the world that gave a damn about him, and waited until Harry was silently glowering at the table for his turn to talk.

“You are so stressed out,” Fred said quietly. He put his hand on Harry’s, ending his ability to rub the tabletop with his thumb. “You’re shouldering all of Susan’s pain, worrying over Snape’s secrets, and trying to be there for everyone and you can’t do it all. You need a break.”

“I can’t take a break!” Harry yelled, distraught and frustrated. He was also very idly glad for the privacy Fred gave them, ensuring Harry wasn’t making a crazy scene in the middle of the pub. “I have to make sure nobody runs off and kills themselves! I have to make sure Timmy can’t take any more of my people! I have to find out what fucking Dumbledore is up to! I CAN’T TAKE A BREAK!”

Harry folded his arms on the table and collapsed his head on them, burying his face and breathing deeply, trying to calm the inappropriate rage that was boiling beneath his skin.

It was all true.

All of this shit was all Harry’s problem.

And he hadn’t even known until a few weeks ago that he needed to worry about his friends killing themselves off on top of worrying about Timmy and his followers trying to do it.

He didn’t want to wake up one morning and find out Trent slit his wrists open. Or that Neville sacrificed himself and ‘died a hero’.

He want to go to sleep, and wake up, every day with his people alive. Was that really too much to ask for?

Was it too much to ask that they kept themselves safe when Harry was fucking sleeping?

It was no wonder he slept like shit lately.

“Darlin.” Fred was running his fingers through Harry’s hair, scratching his scalp lightly and melting a small amount of the tension in Harry’s shoulders. “They aren’t possessions, they aren’t things you have to look after.”

Harry let his head thunk on the edge of the table as he pulled his arms down and wrapped them around himself. “I know they aren’t possessions,” he sneered to his lap. “But they’re my friends, my people, and I’ve got to fuckin make sure they live, don’t I?”

It had been a rhetorical question. More of a statement really. So Harry hadn’t expected Fred’s gentle, but firm, negative response.

“‘No’?” Harry repeated, lifting his head and fixing Fred with a derisive stare. “That’s barmy, Fred, and you know it. You’re all fuckin targets because of me, Timmy said so himself. ‘Join me or I’ll kill them all’, d’you not remember that?”

“Oh I get threatened by Dark Lords all the time,” Fred said serenely. “It’s a bit hard to keep track of them at this point.”

Harry raised his brows a little, but didn’t relent in the face of Fred’s joke.

“Darlin, come on, most of us would have been targets even without you,” Fred said, dropping the joke in favor of speaking earnestly. “Ron, Neville, Susan, Luna and I are all ‘blood traitors’. Hermione and Trent are muggleborns. Theo and Draco had fathers in the death eaters, they probably would have been forced to join by now. Blaise is- well... okay, maybe Blaise is only a target because he’s your friend, but he’s the only one.”

Harry sat all the way up, dropping his arms from his stomach and letting them fall on his lap. “I didn’t mean to say all that,” he said flatly. “I’m done talking about it.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Fred said. He seemed to know that Harry needed a change of subject though, because he wiggled his eyebrows at him and smiled Harry’s favorite smile. “Wanna see a cool magic trick?”

“Alright then.”

Harry watched as Fred ducked beneath the table, popping out and dispelling his privacy shield to strut confidently over to the bar top. Fred propped himself against the counter, leaning casually against it with his ankles crossed as he chatted up Abeforth for a few minutes.

...had Fred always looked so fit?

While Harry was subtly eyeing Fred’s toned arms and his long legs, Fred was enacting some type of deal with Abeforth that involved a lot of laughter, cheery smiles, and eventually he traded a small stack of coins for a key with a leather keychain attached to it.

“I’ll just grab this...” Fred grinned and flicked his wand at the bench across from where Harry was seated.

Harry cocked his head at Fred when nothing happened.

“Three crates, all charmed to be invisible,” Fred murmured. “C’mon, I’ve got us a room upstairs.”

Harry’s excitement at the prospect of opening the crates crashed almost immediately in to a brick wall of nerves.

“For- for why?” he asked, tripping over his words and his feet as he followed behind Fred to a set of stairs in the back of the pub. Fred turned and looked at Harry with his brows furrowed down for a moment before he squished his eyes shut and reopened them.

“Just to hang out,” he said quietly. “Nothing else, I swear.”

“‘Kay.” Harry shrugged, attempting to look bored and casual as they walked down a short corridor with a giant hole in the floor on one end. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend some time alone with Fred, it was just... he didn’t really want to do it here. He jammed his hands as far in his jean pockets as they would go when Fred unlocked the door with a gold 2 on the front and nudged it open. Harry stepped backwards, letting Fred wave his wand and move the crates in first, not really wanting to be knocked back down the rickety stairs by a crate full of guns. He waited for Fred to step in, before following more warily.

“What the fuck?” Harry barked out a sharp laugh as he stepped inside the room. It wasn’t a bedroom at all, it was a bloody office. There was a small meeting table on one side of the room, an empty bookcase on the other, two faded chairs with the stuffing poking out of them in front of an unlit fireplace directly across from the door. There was another door, next to the bookcase, that Harry presumed led to a loo.

“What? You thought I got us a romantic room at the Hogs Head to seduce you?” Fred laughed. Harry heard a muted thud and suddenly, with a tap of Fred’s wand, three large brown wooden crates popped in to existence on the meeting table.

“Kind of,” Harry murmured, adequately distracted by the crates. “Can I see?”

“Hmm. No.”

“What?” Harry snapped his head up from the crates and squinted at Fred. “They’re mine,” he said. “Why can’t I see them?”

“They’re ours,” Fred stressed with a grin that made Harry think he was just being teased. “And I’m sorry, love, the crates don’t open without a sacrifice.”

“A sacrifice,” Harry repeated, a grin now trying to work its way to his lips, “what kind of sacrifice, Sweetheart?”

Fred sat in one of the worn chairs next to the table and sighed with such genuine sounding distress that Harry almost fell for it. “It’s a weird one,” Fred said. He put his chin in his hand and propped his elbow on the table, making the most pathetic puppy eyes at Harry. “The crates won’t open unless I get a kiss from my one true love, but, unfortunately, Verity is at work today...”

Harry’s features twisted in irritation at the mention of Fred’s assistant and he impulsively launched himself at Fred, working his way on to his lap, just as he had wanted to do downstairs.

“You keep fucking around and I’m going to end up killing her,” Harry whispered on Fred’s neck, smirking in satisfaction as he watched goosebumps erupt beneath his breath. Harry chewed his lip for a moment, debating with himself, before dipping his head and kissing slowly on Fred’s neck.

“But you’re so cute when you’re jealous,” Fred said, somehow grinning through just his words. “And you’re, aah, you’re bloody perfect when you do that.”

Harry smiled to himself when he pulled his mouth away from Fred’s neck and saw the red mark that would be dark by the time Fred made it to work in the morning.

“Don’t vanish that,” Harry said sternly.

He knew he was a bit possessive and very jealous. He just didn’t care right then because Verity was gorgeous and Fred was his.

Fred put his hands on Harry’s face and smiled adoringly at him. “Harry, I am so bloody gay that I’ve kissed one girl my entire life, and was traumatized by the experience. I just like to tease you about Verity.”

“Who’d you kiss?” Harry asked curiously.

“Alicia Spinnet.”

“Lee’s girlfriend?”

“Before they were dating,” Fred laughed. He gently pulled Harry’s face to his and kissed him. “You’re the only one I want to kiss now.”

Harry got a bit caught up in snogging Fred. As much as he felt smothered earlier, he found himself desperate to feel Fred closer, have him hold Harry tighter, kiss him harder.

“You’re killing me,” Fred said, pushing Harry back after a while. His lips were red, swollen, and his blue eyes were hazy looking. “Let’s look in the crates before I apparate you back to your place,” he grinned.

“Let’s do that,” Harry said quickly. “Let’s just go home.”

“Love.” Fred traced Harry’s scar with his thumb, frowning a bit before Harry closed his eyes and leaned in to the contact. “You don’t want that,” he said softly. “You’re just stressed and feeling down, I think. One more week of classes then we have two weeks off. I’m going to close the shop on the 23rd, and leave it closed until term starts back on the 5th. We can spend every day together, but I can’t just steal you away today.”

Harry clenched his jaw tightly to keep from begging. “It’s cold,” he said instead. “The castle, I mean. It’s freezing.”

“Well....” Fred gently plucked Harry off his lap and stood him up, moving to stand beside him immediately. “These might warm you up.”

Harry’s curiosity fought with his inner chill as he stepped up to the table and watched as Fred opened the first crate.

“Holy hell,” he breathed, his curiosity winning immediately. Harry reached in the crate and pulled out the slick black hand gun, cradling it lovingly. “Have I told you you’re brilliant and I love you?”

“Not recently,” Fred smirked, leaning against the crate and watching Harry. “I do like hearing it though...”

Harry stroked the cool metal and his lips curled up in a true smile as he considered how much safer his people would be once they all learned how to aim decently.

“You’re brilliant, I love you,” Harry told him, his eyes bright with glee. “Let’s go hide some guns in the castle, yeah?”

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” Harry intoned, his hand on the parchment. His eyes flicked over the map quickly, noting bitterly that Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore were both, once more, absent from the school.

“Filch is out by Hagrid’s hut,” Harry told Fred, cataloging any possible hindrances to their procession. “McGonagall is in Sirius’ office, with Sirius and Lupin. And... Flitwick is in the Hospital Wing with Benjamin Yarrito and Madame Pomfrey. I swear to god, if Yarrito got stabbed, I’m shooting whoever did it.”

“They still haven’t caught your secret admirer?” Fred asked.

Fred, and half of Harry’s friends, decided that whoever stabbed Ginny and Finnigan likely did it to garner favor with Harry. The other half thought it seemed like someone was setting Harry up to get in trouble.

Theo still thought it was Crabbe and Goyle.

“It’s second year all over again,” Susan had grimaced when they discussed it.

“Except it isn’t Ginny this time,” Neville said thoughtfully. “I don’t think she could actually obliviate herself.”

“She definitely wouldn’t do it if it meant missing a quidditch match anyway,” Ron said decisively, putting an end to that line of thought.

Harry wasn’t sure who attacked the two Gryffindors, but he didn’t think it was someone who fancied him.

“I can actually alibi you this time, if so,” Fred said, pulling Harry’s thoughts back to their current plot. “Are we moving to the dungeons? Because look,” he pointed at a cluster of first years moving quickly around in the corridor, playing some sort of game it seemed like, “We might get stopped.”

“Can’t put them in the dorm, I promised Theo,” Harry said. He looked around the dark passageway they were in now, just beneath the statue of the humpbacked witch. “You think we could just leave them here?”

Fred swiped his hand along the wall, showing Harry the damp dirt that stuck to his hand. “I suppose we could put up some shields, but you lot coming down here to train might be a bit of a dead giveaway, love.”

“Damn.” Harry tilted his head back, tapping it light against the stone wall as he thought. “I really can’t put them in the dorm, unless I kept it top secret...” Harry considered if Theo would forgive him if Harry did it anyway, and grimaced to think about lying to Theo about such a thing. Harry hated lying to his friends, about something so big anyway, but...

“Slytherin’s Chamber!” Harry cried just as Fred blurted “The Room of Secrets!”

Harry and Fred blinked at each other in surprise.

“Nobody can get in Slytherin’s Chamber, except me,” Harry said.

“And Timmy,” Fred argued. “Plus, isn’t there a dead body rotting down there?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled, a bit wistfully at the memory. “Lockhart’s probably starting to smell by now.”

“The Room of Secrets is a smashing idea,” Fred said, rolling his eyes at Harry’s obvious nostalgia. “What if you aren’t around and Suzie-Q or Ronnie needs one? They can’t count on Mavis popping them down to the chamber.”

Harry gnawed on his lip and tilted his head in concession. “Alright,” he agreed. “Room of Secrets it is. Here,” he tossed Fred his invisibility cloak, “I’m going to take the lead, you levitate the crates behind me, and stay behind them. Whistle if someone comes up behind you or something.”

“You love this,” Fred accused him before pecking Harry’s cheek and throwing the cloak over himself.

“I really do,” Harry admitted with a sheepish grin. This was really the most fun he’d had in ages, and it wasn’t really surprising that it was Fred who brought it on. Fred had a knack for saving Harry from the waves that wanted to pull him under on occasion. He was like Harry’s own personal life raft.

No, more than that.

Harry mused on a proper analogy as they quietly and carefully exited the hidden passageway and made their way to the sixth floor through the back staircases.

Fred wasn’t a life raft, leaving Harry floating safely in the freezing and dark waves that he drowns in. Fred was like a switching spell or something. Harry could be partially submerged in the water, struggling to breathe, and Fred could just swap the black waves out for peaceful blue ones. Harry would be struggling to stay afloat, and then suddenly he was sitting on a sandy beach, his legs in peaceful blue water, and the sun shining on him.

The point was, Fred was magical.

“What should I ask for?” Harry whispered when they made it to the corridor with the troll ballerina painting on the wall.

“Somewhere to hide twenty five guns?” Fred suggested with a quiet laugh.

Harry rolled his eyes at the unnecessary sarcasm, but did just that. He kept his hands on the wall as Luna did when they used the room before, and concentrated on what he wanted as he walked back and forth.

I need a place to hide something. I need a room to hide something. I need to hide something, I want to keep it a secret.

After he passed by the wall the third time, a door silently popped in to appearance.

“Wicked!” Fred cheered when they entered the room and found it to be bigger that the Great Hall and filled wall to wall with various treasures. “I wonder what all’s in here!”

“It’s not wicked,” Harry scowled. “Who all knows about this room?”

Fred walked over to a desk near them and snagged a book off the top of it. He flipped the cover open, sending up a small puff of dust. “Jodie Rogers’ Journal, first date of entry was 1961, I think we’re safe, darlin.”

“Brill.” Harry moved to where he heard the thud of the crates land and aimed a small bit of magic towards them, ordering it to reveal the crates. “I’m going to have everyone practice after classes on days I don’t have quidditch, but here.” Harry grabbed one of the guns and quickly made sure it was unloaded before throwing it to Fred. “Want one for George?”

“Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind,” Fred said, tucking the gun in his trouser waistband and easily catching the second one Harry tossed him and tucking it in as well. “Wanna explore a bit?”

Harry looked around the packed room and tossed Fred a cheeky grin over his shoulder.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he said, tensing his muscles and preparing to run, “Catch me if you can.”

Fred let out a startled laugh as Harry took off through the aisles, quickly assessing the best places to hide as he idly catalogued various trinkets he saw. There seemed to be a bit of everything hidden in there; all things that previous students at some point wanted hidden.

Loads of books, potions in dusty vials, large pieces of furniture, including a bed for some ungodly reason.

Who needed to hide a bed?

After putting quite a bit of distance between them, Harry ducked behind a large brown wardrobe, nearly knocking over a table with an ugly bust of a warlock with a silver tiara on its head, when he heard Fred approaching. Harry peeked out one side of the wardrobe, looking to see if it was safe to take off, when he was suddenly lifted off his feet by a warm pair of arms.

“How’d you find me?” Harry asked indignantly, wrapping his legs around Fred’s waist and glaring playfully at him.

Fred smiled earnestly up at him, his face radiating with honest affection. “I can always find you, darlin.”

That night, when Harry was once more in his bed and Susan started the timer on his five minutes, Harry thought about Fred.

“I love him,” Harry said quietly, somber with the realization that he pinned quite a bit of his happiness on one single, very killable, person. “I’m mad about him, Sue. I’m cold when he’s gone.”

***

The final week of classes, Harry was distracted and irritated once more.

Harry cast flawlessly in defense as he slumped in his desk. He brewed without any of the flair or enthusiasm that he once had. He flatly agreed to attend Slughorn’s Christmas party, unable to muster up any of the charm he tried to display in his class. He struggled to stay awake during McGonagall’s lectures. And he sighed at Flitwick’s compliments during his lessons.

The only thing that Harry enjoyed during that week, was taking his gang to the Room of Secrets after classes and teaching them to shoot at a further distance than they practiced over the summer.

The Room of Secrets was brilliant, Harry only had to have everyone hold on to the crates as he asked the room for a place to shoot and it obliged him immediately. He always felt a bit dizzy after it morphed itself around them, but it really was amazing magic.

Hermione claimed that Rowena Ravenclaw must have designed the room.

“Like this,” Harry said one afternoon. He eyed Trent’s stance and hesitated, “Can I move you, a bit?” he asked.

Trent gave him a peculiar look, and shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t care.”

Harry carefully grabbed Trent’s hips and turned him just so. “Inhale as you aim, squeeze the trigger on your exhale.”

Harry stepped back and watched as Trent followed his instructions to the letter, and saw the green spark over thirty feet away when Trent’s bullet hit the target.

“I did it!” Trent crowed triumphantly.

That had been a good day.

Everything else had just been events to be endured though.

“Life is dull,” Harry proclaimed during dinner on Thursday, his classes finally over for two and half weeks. He poked moodily at his vegetables, unable to even bring them to his mouth. Chewing seemed to take a lot of energy.

Susan nodded at his side, her spoon swirling pointlessly in her bowl of soup. “I picked a guardian today,” she told the others quietly, a hush falling over them as she brought up the topic they all wanted to know about without anyone wanting to prod. “There were a few people who offered, and-” she glanced up at Harry, her eyes tight with some sort of worry, “I didn’t choose Snape.”

“Who did you choose?” Luna asked, reaching out and trailing her fingers reassuringly over Susan’s arm.

“Tonks,” Susan said, a small grin at the corner of her mouth. “She asked for me right after it- it happened. She told me today that we have a bond now, since she cut my arm off and feels a bit responsible for me.”

“That’s...” Draco’s brows shot up his forehead, “That sounds like just the sort of mad thing that Tonks would say.”

“So you’re going to live with her this summer?” Harry demanded, his feelings hurt by Susan’s rejection. “I thought..?”

He thought they had plans.

“Of course not,” Susan sniffed, looking a bit like her old self for a moment. “I’m staying with her over Christmas break, we’re... we’re clearing out the cottage... and then I’ll be staying with you this summer.”

“Tonks too?” Neville asked, his blue eyes quickly flicking towards Snape at the head table.

“She didn’t say that, specifically, but I think so,” Susan grinned.

“They’re such a cute couple,” Hermione sighed. “They’re true opposites, like Harry and Fred. It’s so romantic.”

“They aren’t dating,” Harry said, unsure how he and Fred were ‘true opposites’. They were a bit different, personality wise, but they had loads in common. “Tonks wants to date, I think, but Snape’s playing hard to get.”

“Maybe Snape isn’t interested?” Blaise suggested.

“He is,” Harry said certainly. “He just doesn’t want to admit it. He blushes when you talk about her, it’s hilarious.”

“Then maybe Tonks needs to get lucky,” Ron laughed. “Just drink some Felix Felicis and show up at Snape’s quarters.”

The other boys laughed at Ron’s innuendo and waggling brows, but Harry stared at him as an idea began to click in his mind.

He didn’t bring it up in front of everyone though, he didn’t mention it at all until him and Susan were in his bed that night, talking about nothing while they stared up at the ceiling.

“I had a brill idea,” Harry whispered, carelessly taking the credit for Ron’s idea. “Slughorn said he took Felix Felicis three times and had three perfect days...”

“And?” Susan rolled on her side and looked at Harry curiously.

Harry summoned the golden potion from his trunk, holding it up as if it held the answer to all his problems.

“Susan Elaina Bones, how would you like to get lucky?”

Susan’s eyes seemed to grow brighter as she looked at the bottle. “Yes,” she whispered, “Oh my God, Harry, let’s do it.”

“Tomorrow,” Harry said. “We’ll take it at breakfast and have a perfect last day before break, yeah?”

Susan squealed quietly and squeezed Harry in a tight hug. “A perfect day,” she agreed. “I love it.”

Harry loved it too. He hoped that Slughorn hadn’t been full of shit, and that the potion would actually finally chase away the creeping cold he could feel inside him. Harry carefully put the vial in his nightstand drawer and pulled out two vials of the Dreamless Sleep that Snape made just for him.

“Here’s to a perfect day tomorrow,” Harry grinned, handing one of the vials to Susan.

“A perfect day,” Susan agreed.

They clinked their bottles and threw them back. Harry quickly tossed his leg over Susan’s, a bit of a guarantee he’ll wake up if she gets up in the middle of the night, and both of them quickly fell in to a peaceful sleep before they woke up and had a perfect day.

What a perfect day would be, Harry had no idea. But he knew he wanted it badly.

Chapter Text

Friday, December 19

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked as she saw Harry and Susan duck their heads beneath the table.

“Living our best lives,” Susan’s voice said simply before Hermione heard a small pop of a cork being unsealed.

Hermione shared a wide eyed look with Theo. Anything that involved Susan and Harry ‘living their best lives’ was sure to be dangerous at best, outright criminal at worst.

“What, specifically, are you doing though?” Theo asked tightly.

Harry’s head popped back up and he brandished an empty potions vial. “We, my beloved brother, are getting lucky.”

It took a second to click in Hermione’s mind what they meant, and when it did, she felt real fear unfurl in her stomach and her hair stood up on the back of her neck.

Under no circumstances, ever, should Harry ‘Chaos’ Potter be allowed to wander the castle alone under the influence of such a strong potion.

“Felix Felicis,” she told the others in a horrified croak.

“Wicked,” Ron laughed.

Blaise and Draco shared a quick look and both shrugged almost simultaneously.

“So Timmy and Dumbledore will be dead by nightfall?” Neville said casually. “Brilliant.”

Hermione did not think it would be brilliant at all.

Hermione was terrified.

***

“Severus, what is your son doing?” Minerva asked from Severus’ right hand side.

Severus watched curiously as Harry and Susan popped up from beneath the Slytherin table, identical looks of mischief on their faces.

“Something horrifying, I’m sure,” Severus said. He tapped his wand on his thigh, silently intoning his marlios spell to overhear the conversation at Harry’s part of the table.

“We, my beloved brother, are getting lucky,” Harry said brightly.

Severus choked on his coffee.

“What is it?” Black asked curiously.

“Felix Felicis,” Severus sighed after Granger said it, offering a perfect rational explanation for Harry’s crass statement. “Horace gave Harry a bottle in his first class with him.”

“Dear God,” Minerva said. She rubbed her forehead, undoubtedly imagining the same vision Severus was. “We should cancel classes, bunker down in the dungeons.”

“The dungeons will hardly be safe,” Severus said drily. His look did soften as he heard Harry let out a peal of uncharacteristic laughter though.

Who cared what chaos Harry dumped on them all today? If anyone deserved a day of the beautiful sort of manic joy that Felix Felicis gave the drinker, it was Harry and Susan.

***

“Well, I’m high,” Susan giggled. “This is much better than the trash Johnny smokes.”

“It’s a shame you don’t have a broken mind,” Harry said airily. “This is what flying feels like, except I don’t want to transfigure into an owl.”

“What do you want to do?” Draco asked, peering at Harry and Susan as if they were some sort of experiment.

Harry considered it for a moment, trying to let the liquid luck flowing through his veins make a decision for him. “I’m waiting for the post,” he said confidently. “And there it is!” he cried with an unexpected burst of joy. “Sevvie! Over here buddy!”

The other students stared at Harry, nervous whispers breaking out about what could be in the parcel Sevvie carried that would cause Potter to be so excited.

Harry had no idea what was in the parcel, but he knew he it would definitely be something brill.

“Oh.” Harry curled his nose at the parcel, immediately recognizing Rita Skeeter’s loopy handwriting on the outside. “Nevermind then,” he said. He stroked Sevvie’s wings affectionately. “I’ll just give this to Snape.”

“Don’t you want to read it first?” Neville asked.

“Nope.” Harry smiled charmingly at his friends, affection bubbling up in him as he saw their faces. “I love you all.”

“I love you too,” Trent said immediately with a broad smile.

“What is in that potion?” Blaise laughed.

“I’m scared,” Draco whispered to Luna.

Luna squeezed his leg beneath the table and giggled. “We all love you Harry,” she said. “What does Felix say you’ll be doing next?”

“Hmm...” Harry inhaled, then shrugged. “I have to go give this to Snape, then I’m not sure. I guess I’ll just figure it out as I go.”

“I’m going to go send a letter,” Susan said. She jumped to her feet with a huge smile. “I won’t be in class today, could you let the professors know that I’m quite busy, Hermione?”

Hermione seemed ready to lecture Susan on skipping classes, but then Susan turned her thousand watt smile on her and Hermione relented.

“I’ll tell them,” she said. “Could we, perhaps, please, prevent a war from breaking out today?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Harry laughed, “There’s already a war, isn’t there?”

Hermione’s face paled a bit, but Harry ignored it. He got to his feet and shared a wicked smile with Susan.

“I feel like I’ll see you soon,” he said. “Good luck with your letter.”

“I don’t need luck,” Susan sniffed, “I already have it.”

***

Susan danced out of the Great Hall on the balls of her feet, humming a little as she let the magic inside her lead her to her destination.

For the first time in almost a month exactly, Susan felt happy.

She didn’t care if it was manufactured happiness, it was still joy that filled her for now. And it gave her a brilliant idea to try and find some lasting happiness as well.

Susan waltzed in the Hufflepuff common room, smiling cheerily at the students lingering around on the plush sofas.

“Good morning,” she sang. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

A few of the younger kids looked startled at her chirpy tone, but they smiled back easily enough and waved to her.

Hufflepuff was such a lovely house to be a part of.

“What are you up to?” Justin asked her.

“I’ve got an important letter to write,” Susan said confidently. What the content of that letter would be, she had no idea. What she would do next, she had no idea.

But Felix knew.

“Are you busy later?” Justin asked, his smile nervous, but cute in a boyish way. “I was thinking—”

“Can’t,” Susan said, interrupting what she was sure would be another invite to hang out together. “I’ll be honest with you, Justin, you just aren’t my type.”

Justin blinked, his smile slowly sliding off his face. “Is it because I’m not Harry?” he asked, attempting to sound haughty instead of hurt.

Susan giggled and patted his arm consolingly. It was absurd how Fred graduated and suddenly everyone believed Susan and Harry were an item. Susan loved Harry, Harry was her absolute best friend in the world, but she wouldn’t date Harry for all the galleons in the world. “Nobody is Harry, except for Harry,” she told Justin. She had a sudden stroke of brilliance that she later accredited to Felix. “I think Parvati is single though, you should ask her out.”

Justin shook his head in bemusement, but Susan was sure that it was the right thing to tell him. She gave him one more smile then made her way through the back corridor to her rarely used dorm.

She managed to summon her parchment, quill, and ink nonverbally and flopped down on her bed with a huge smile. She nibbled on the end of her quill for a moment, trying to decide what to write, when she felt a wash of the potion clear her mind, assuring her that she was overthinking it and to just let the words flow naturally.

Charlie,
How are you? Wonderful, I hope. I’ve thought a lot about what you said back in June and decided to compromise with you. My birthday is February 7, and it happens to fall on a Hogsmeade weekend. Would you like to have dinner with me? We could have dinner and possibly go back to your place afterwards (or rent a room in Hogsmeade, whichever you prefer). I do think you’re quite fit; charming and brave as well. If you’d be interested, let me know, because I’ve thought about you quite a lot these last few months and I think I could be persuaded to try out this ‘love’ that you feel so strongly about.
Write to me?
XO,
Susan Bones.

Susan smiled at the letter, certain that it would bring her as much luck as the potion currently was.

***

“Seeeeeeev!”

Severus stiffened and turned as Harry called out to him, a thick parcel wrapped in brown paper in his hands.

“Yes?” Severus asked, ignoring the irksome way Harry sang his name.

“This is for you, apparently,” Harry said. He tossed the parcel to Severus, drastically overestimating his abilities to catch it.

“C’mon, Sev,” Harry laughed as the parcel landed on the ground beside him. “You gotta be quicker than that!”

Severus snagged the package off the ground and shook his head at Harry. “How much did you drink?” he asked.

“How do you know me so well?” Harry asked, his smile wide and his eyes sparkling brightly. “Half the vial, didn’t I?”

Severus considered the vial that he saw Harry brandishing this morning and was torn between amusement and annoyance.

“I suppose Horace neglected to tell you that a single mouthful would last all day?” he asked.

Harry scrunched his face up, looking like a confused puppy, before laughing and shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t remember,” he said. “Why? Does this mean I’ll be lucky for two days?”

“No,” Severus sighed and smiled fondly at his impulsive and idiotic son. Felix Felicis had a rather set timer on its effects, though the potency would be dramatically increased if Harry and Susan had more than a single mouthful each. “It means that you are going to be incredibly annoying for the next twelve to sixteen hours and I would prefer you not burn the castle down.”

“I’ll consider it,” Harry said with an impudent wink. “That’s from Rita,” he said, nodding at the parcel in Severus’ hands. “No idea why, but I know you’re meant to have it.”

“Delightful.” Severus rolled his eyes. “I’ll just go read your fan mail while you go terrify the students with your cheer, shall I?”

“What a lovely idea!” Harry cried. “Ta, Sev! I hope you get lucky today as well! Love you!”

Severus rolled his eyes once more even as he felt his lips curling up in a pleased smile as Harry bounced away down the corridor.

He pitied anyone who crossed paths with the child today. Apparently, Felix Felicis had a rather affectionate side effect when mixed with Harry’s Lithium potion. An interesting thing to note.

The package Harry gave him was curious though. Felix Felicis rarely explained why it led someone to make the decisions that they did, though there must be some explanation for Harry handing over a package from Rita Skeeter to Severus.

Severus poured over the package in the privacy of his office, his mouth wide open as he read all that Rita had discovered from Bathilda Bagshot.

Albus certainly had quite the colorful past.

Severus hesitated when he read a letter that Albus wrote to Gellert Grindewald, where he outright agreed with the subjugation of muggles. Something was tugging at his mind as he traced Albus’ odd signature.

Instead of an A, Albus signed the beginning of his name with a curious symbol. A triangle with a circle inside of it, and a line drew through the center.

Severus was certain he had seen the symbol before, and he continued tracing it as he thought it over.

***

Susan had been skipping through the castle, debating on what she wanted to use all her luck on, when she ran face first in to her best friend.

“Harry!” she cried happily, pulling him in for a hug. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know!” Harry cried back, his voice a little high pitched with his excitement. “What are we doing?”

“We are...” Susan scrunched her face up as she thought it over for a moment. “Going to find Peeves!” she said happily. “Let’s go!”

“Alright!”

Harry linked arms with Susan and skipped alongside her, causing her to laugh since Harry had no idea how to skip.

“Like this,” Susan said patiently, showing Harry the proper skipping position as they moved through the corridors.

***

Dean Thomas grabbed Ginny’s arm and backed against the wall of the corridor as Susan Bones and Harry bloody Potter went skipping down the corridor.

“What are they doing?” Ginny asked, scoffing derisively as Potter laughed at something Bones said.

“Something terrifying, I’m sure,” Dean said quietly.

Nothing that made Potter and Bones laugh and skip could be good at all.

***

“Did you send your letter?” Harry asked after Susan taught him how to skip properly.

“I did,” Susan said. “Luckily for me, Sevvie was already back in the owlery!”

“Lucky you,” Harry laughed. “Who was it for?”

“Charlie Weasley,” Susan said with a soppy smile. “He’s so fit, Harry. I might be aiming quite out of my league.”

“Ugh,” Harry curled his nose up at Susan’s terrible taste. “Fred is way more attractive than Charlie. Charlie’s all muscles, Sue. He could squish you like a bug.”

“I know,” Susan grinned at Harry, “It’s sexy, isn’t it?”

“No.” Harry laughed as he almost fell on top of a suit of armor. “Fred is sexy, Charlie is... I dunno, rough, maybe?”

“Stop,” Susan laughed, “You’re making me want him even more!”

Harry did finally trip over his feet, landing in a sprawl on the stone floor, blinking in surprise. “How come I fell?” he demanded of no one. “I’m supposed to be lucky!”

Susan tripped too, landing right next to Harry, and turned to point out the window they were next to. “Look,” she whispered, “Dumbledore’s leaving.”

“That also isn’t lucky,” Harry said with a petulant pout. “I wanted to make him miserable.”

Susan clicked her tongue at Harry and tilted her head next to his. “It means we have the whole grounds to ourselves,” she whispered.

Oh.

Oh.

“That is lucky,” Harry grinned.

***

“Should we go find Harry and Susan?” Draco asked Ron and Neville after their Herbology class.

“Uh...” Ron raised his brows at him in an incredulous look. “Why would we do that?”

“And why would we bother?” Neville sighed. “Look.”

Draco turned towards where Neville was pointing and his eyes widened to see Harry and Susan holding hands and walking straight towards the forbidden forest.

“Do we... do we stop them?” Draco asked.

“Fuck. No.” Ron said decisively. “We go to the library and pretend we never even saw that.”

Draco and Neville agreed and they quickly scampered off to the library to meet up with their friends who were relatively sane.

***

“Threstrals have an innate mapping system built in,” Harry explained to Susan when they were partially in the forest and began looking for the black winged horse-like creatures. “Plus, they’re super friendly and dead useful.”

“Are we going somewhere?” Susan asked as she helped Harry seek out the creatures she couldn’t even see.

“I dunno,” Harry said seriously. He had a feeling they were in the place they were supposed to be, but he didn’t feel like they were going to be flying away on a threstral. Harry looked around the forest curiously, wondering what was inside it that Felix wanted him to find. “Let’s just walk around and see what happens, yeah?”

“Perfect.” Susan grabbed Harry’s hand and strolled between the large trees, as careless of the ominous darkness as Harry was. “This way,” she said, suddenly jerking on Harry’s arm to turn him and unintentionally causing him to lose his footing.

“Again?!” Harry cried when he stumbled and barely caught himself on a tree trunk. “Why am I- wait, what the fuck?”

The tree trunk that Harry grabbed on to made a quiet groaning sound. Harry and Susan watched with wide eyes as the base of it slid open slowly.

“Holy hell,” Susan breathed, her eyes lit up joyously. “What is this?!”

“Someone’s secret stash,” Harry laughed happily. He grabbed the scarf off Susan’s neck and wrapped his hand in it, caution striking him as he went to grab a glowing opal necklack in the hollowed out nook. Harry lifted it curiously and tilted his head side to side as he studied it. “Definitely evil,” he said certainly before dropping it on the ground and sending it to his trunk with a wave of his hand and small burst of magic.

“This isn’t,” Susan whispered, grabbing a sharp dagger and holding it up for Harry to inspect.

“And this is,” Harry said, scooping out a black vial from the cache and squinting at it. “Draught of Living Death?”

“Looks like it,” Susan agreed.

They rifled through the trunk for a few more minutes, finding a few small bottles of firewhisky and another knife.

“Is this... I didn’t buy these,” Harry said slowly.

“I think it’s from your secret admirer,” Susan laughed. “Must be a bloke.”

“Hmm.” Harry hummed thoughtfully as he eyed all the illicit items hidden. “Tada!” he laughed, sending them all to his trunk. “No more stabbing people and me getting blamed for it!”

“Tada!” Susan agreed with a giggle. “C’mon, let’s go back inside. It’s chilly out here.”

Harry and Susan were midway through the grounds when Harry saw a cloud shaped like a smattering of freckles on Fred’s shoulder and he had another stroke of inspiration.

“I think I’ll go see Fred,” Harry said decisively. He turned to Susan and smiled nervously at her, “Tell me everything you know about sex.”

***

Minerva walked slowly from the Great Hall towards her classroom after lunch, enjoying the view of the snowy grounds from the windows.

Truly, there was no place in the world that could rival the beauty of Hogwarts in the winters.

The grounds were beautiful, the castle filled to the brim with decorations and Yuletide cheer, the candles felt warmer, the giggles were—

Giggles?

Minerva peered in an empty classroom as she passed, quirking her brow at Harry’s messy black hair leaned close to Susan’s gleaming red curls.

The two of them were plotting something, undoubtedly something chaotic and sinister, but they were also giggling, which gave Minerva a terrible feeling in her stomach.

They have no reason to bother you, she reminded herself as she backed away from the classroom. Leave them to destroy the castle in peace, and perhaps you will live to see eighty.

***

“How are you going to get there?” Susan whispered to Harry when they were secluded in a classroom, plotting Harry’s escape together.

“Apparation,” Harry said simply. “Duh.”

“Duh,” Susan laughed. She eyed Harry’s school uniform slowly, grimacing at it. “You have to change though.”

Harry, adorable idiot that he was, looked down at his shirt, tie, and robes, and shrugged. “Why? I’m getting naked when I get there, aren’t I?”

Susan snorted. “Yes, but you have to make him want to undress you,” she said with another giggle that kept bubbling up inside her. “C’mon, let’s go play dress up!”

Harry was terribly cute, in his own way, but Harry wore baggy jumpers and jeans and Susan preferred him in dressier clothes. It really was Susan’s lucky day, because she’d wanted to dress Harry up in Blaise and Draco’s clothes for forever, but Harry usually glowered at her when she tried, but now he just followed along like an excited puppy.

Susan’s heart was so full of affection for him. She pulled him close and kissed his cheek impulsively. “I love you,” she said.

Harry smiled at her, and Susan adored his smile when he was truly happy. “I love you,” he said earnestly.

Aaaaand, when they got to the boys’ dorm, not only was it completely empty, but Draco forgot to ward his wardrobe against thieves this morning.

“It’s our luuuuucky day,” Susan sang. She threw Draco’s wardrobe open and eyed Harry carefully. “Strip,” she said. “Let’s see what I’m working with.”

***

“Come on,” Theo whispered, pulling Hermione behind him. “Harry and Susan are off killing their enemies or kidnapping newborn muggleborns, we have the dorm to ourselves.”

Hermione laughed and tried protesting weakly. “We should be studying,” she said.

“We’ll study after,” Theo grinned. “Plus, don’t we need to know anatomy? This counts, right?”

Hermione blushed in the way that Theo loved to see and ducked her head. “Quickly then,” she said, laughing lightly as Theo led her through the empty common room.

“Quick?” Theo smirked at Hermione and leaned close to kiss the little sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Never,” he breathed.

Hermione’s sharp little inhale was cut off by a sound that Theo knew meant trouble.

Laughter.

From inside their dorm.

Which meant...

Theo slowly and silently cracked the door open just enough that he could peek inside and confirm what he already knew.

Harry and Susan.

“What are they doing?” Hermione whispered behind Theo, her hand tickling his back beneath his shirt.

Theo pulled the door back shut and shook his head, his fleeting impulse to spend his two hour break in bed with his girlfriend now gone entirely.

“Something that involved destroying our dorm with clothes,” Theo sighed. “Apparently Felix Felicis told them to start a bloody war tonight.”

Theo personally didn’t care if Harry tossed his clothes around. Harry was his brother, he could wear his clothes or dig through his wardrobe all he wanted.

But Draco would throw a hissy fit of epic proportions once he saw the mess Harry and Susan had made.

“I wonder what they’re up to,” Hermione mused thoughtfully as they stomped back downstairs.

“Knowing Harry? It probably involves weapons and blood. A lot of blood.”

***

Harry held his arms out to his sides, spinning slowly so Susan could inspect his outfit.

“Ugh! You’re so handsome I’m going to...” Susan’s golden hand flew to her forehead and she fell backwards on Ron’s bed in a pretend faint.

“Shut up,” Harry laughed. He looked down at Draco’s silky dark purple top, coupled with Blaise’s black trousers that made Harry look at least three inches taller than he actually was, then inspected his hair carefully in the mirror.

“Fred’s going to die,” Susan said happily, propping her chin on Harry’s shoulder now to watch him mess with his untamable hair.

“I don’t want him to die,” Harry laughed. “Just... just shag me.”

Susan let out a loud laugh, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright. “Fred would shag you if you showed up in my mini skirt,” she said. “Which you should have worn, in my opinion.”

“He might not,” Harry said, a small burst of nerves attacking him suddenly. “I- I really freaked out last time, Sue. He might not want to anymore.”

Susan turned Harry away from the mirror and stared at him sternly. “Do you feel like he won’t want to?” she asked.

Harry considered it for a small moment before the luck in his veins wiped his worries away with a whisper of reassurance.

“Nah,” he grinned. “I feel lucky.”

***

Trent walked down the dungeon corridor quickly, wanting to grab his cards before dinner began.

“You’ll love poker,” he told Sapphire genuinely. “Harry taught me, and it’s loads of fun. Ron said I can borrow his chips if I promise to bring them all back.”

“Brill,” Sapphire grinned, her white teeth sparkling in the candlelit corridor. “Is it hard?”

“Not at all,” Trent assured her, tripping over his words as he got distracted by her smile. “It’s—”

Trent’s assurances that poker would be easy to learn were cut off as they passed an alcove and heard a lot of giggling.

“Har—”

Trent slapped his hand over Sapphire’s mouth, keeping her from drawing Harry and Susan’s attention to them. He grabbed her arm with his other hand and drug her quickly in the opposite direction, his cards and Ron’s poker chips forgotten.

“What was that for?” Sapphire hissed once Trent released her.

Trent shook his head at her. He knew Gryffindors were brash and impulsive, but Sapphire surely knew better by now.

“They’re giggling,” he said. “Do you ever see Harry giggle?”

“Well...” Sapphire pursed her lips as she thought it over. “No,” she finally said. “I suppose I don’t.”

“Exactly,” Trent told her. “Which means they’re plotting something positively insane. I’m not ready to die today, are you?”

“Oh my God, you’re right,” Sapphire agreed quickly. “Let’s just stay far, faaaaar, away.”

Which was one of the first sensible things Sapphire ever suggested really.

***

“Listen, Harry, I don’t like to say I’m a pro, but I’ve never had a complaint before,” Susan giggled in the alcove they were temporarily hidden in on their way to help Harry sneak out of the castle. “Ask me anything.”

“Alright... does it matter who’s on top and who’s on bottom? D’you think Fred’ll like it if I’m on top?”Harry blurted.

“Ask me anything that isn’t specifically gay,” Susan laughed, causing Harry to laugh as well.

Well.

Perhaps it was more of a giggle.

But nobody saw them, and Susan wouldn’t tell anyone that Harry was giggling.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Harry said dreamily. “Funny, fit, and I have no idea why he loves me, but he does.”

“You’re very loveable,” Susan said. “Fred’s a troll, but he makes you happy.”

“Fred is not a troll!” Harry gasped, shocked by her audacity. “He’s brill, Sue. I’m going to marry him, you know.”

“I know,” Susan laughed. “I can’t wait for the wedding.”

“Me either,” Harry sighed. “Except... except then we’ll be married, and married people...”

“Have sex,” Susan said simply when Harry trailed off. “Do you really want to have sex with Fred?”

“So much,” Harry grinned.

“Then listen up, and I’ll give you all my best ideas.”

Harry propped his chin on his knees and listened with eager ears and wide eyes as Susan talked.

Susan was a genius, in Harry’s personal opinion.

***

Tonks was strolling through the dungeons. Technically, she was working, but truthfully she had been hoping to run in to Severus.

Casually, of course.

She’d embarrassed herself quite a bit a few weeks ago and it curbed her enthusiasm for making an arse of herself for a while.

She hadn’t seen Severus yet, but she did nearly get knocked over by Harry and Susan when she turned a corner.

“This isn’t lucky at all!” Harry cried before laughing. “We can’t be bumping in to cops today! What is this bullshit?”

“Tonks!” Susan yelled happily, ignoring Harry’s complaints. She threw her arms around her and caught Tonks by surprise with a tight hug.

Were you supposed to hug teenage girls you were the guardian of? She’d need to ask her mum...

“Wotcher,” Tonks said warmly, awkwardly patting Susan on the head. “What are you two up to?”

“World domination,” Harry quipped before breaking out in to a fit of giggles. When Susan let go of Tonks and began giggling as well, Tonks narrowed her eyes at the pair of them.

“Are you guys drunk?” she asked curiously.

“Higher than Harry can fly, actually,” Susan said chipperly, apparently not worried at all at saying such a thing to Tonks.

Which was fine.

Tonks wasn’t Susan’s parent, she was aiming for more of a big sister type of role in her life. If Susan wanted to start their new relationship off with absolute honesty, then all the better for Tonks.

“High and planning world domination?” Tonks grinned, raising one brow at the pair of them. They did look like they were up to no good. Except, Harry always looked like he was up to no good honestly, but it was amplified quite a bit right now.

“Harry’s joking,” Susan said with a bright smile and an easy toss of her golden arm over Harry’s shoulders. “We are quite busy at the moment with our plans though, what are you doing?”

“Patrolling,” Tonks shrugged. “Want some help with your mad schemes?”

“No,” Harry said hastily, confirming Tonks’ guess that they must be absolutely insane or incredibly illegal.

Or both.

Probably both.

“Why don’t you go bother Sev?” Harry suggested with a sly look in his eyes. “He likes you, you know.”

“He’ll never admit it if so,” Tonks said sheepishly, a little embarrassed that her feelings were so obvious that everyone apparently knew about them. “I think he must be a bit too good at hiding his emotions.”

“Trust me,” Harry said in a conspiratorial whisper, “He blushes, Tonks, blushes. You just have to be upfront or he’ll talk in Slytherin riddles forever and you’ll never get anywhere, yeah?”

“Be blunt,” Susan nodded sagely at Harry’s side. “Say ‘hey Professor Snape, you’re incredibly sexy and I would like to be your girlfriend.’”

Tonks laughed, shaking her head at the odd advice from the two obviously inebriated teenagers. “If I feel like looking like I prat, that’ll be the first thing I tell him,” she said with a playful smile.

Harry shrugged and picked a small piece of lint off his shirt. “Don’t say you think he’s sexy, he’ll think you’re taking the mickey out of him,” he said. “But just argue with him for a bit, that’s what I do when we have a problem. And when you’re done, you could just say ‘can I kiss you?’ That’s what Fred said to me and now-” Harry held his left hand out with a flourish and a proud smile, “we’re getting married, aren’t we?”

“Yeah...” Tonks eyed Harry’s ungodly expensive ring and felt her chest tighten for a moment. She knew she told Sev that they’d find a way to save him, but it was beginning to feel impossible. And here Harry was, beaming and acting like a normal teenager doing dumb shit, bragging about his fiancé and tossing out unsolicited relationship advice. It was probably one of the saddest things Tonks had ever witnessed.

“Go,” Susan squealed, pushing Tonks towards Sev’s door. “Go get your man, Tonks!”

Tonks tripped from Susan’s push and gave her a half-hearted glare for it. “And what are you two going to be doing?”

“I told you, world domination,” Harry rolled his eyes.

Susan giggled and smacked Harry’s arm lightly. “Harry’s going to get shagged and I’m going to go find our friends.”

Tonks looked from Harry to Susan a few times before shaking her head. Judging from the impish lights in their eyes, and the cheeky grins they both sported, Tonks was certain that Harry’s words were closer to the truth than Susan’s were.

“Don’t get arrested,” Tonks quipped with another careless shrug. “Have fun.”

Tonks was hesitating outside Sev’s door when she heard Susan whisper to Harry, “She’s great; isn’t she?” And it was heartening enough to hear that Tonks grinned and rapped her knuckles lightly on Sev’s door before letting herself in.

***

Susan walked to the passageway to Hogsmeade with Harry, both of them strolling carelessly, confident they wouldn’t be stopped.

“You’re going to love it,” Susan told Harry when they approached the statue of the humpbacked witch. “Just focus on Fred’s face, play some music you like, and keep your mind in the moment. Okay?”

“Okay,” Harry said. He took a deep breath and gave Susan a crooked smile. “How do I look?”

“Dashing,” Susan said. She smoothed Harry’s hair down and beamed at him. “Go get him.”

Harry gave her a wink over his shoulder before dropping down in the passageway and heading to the destination Felix was clearing the path for.

***

Fred was turning the key in the lock on the shop, closing up for the evening, when a whistled tune caught his attention. He turned and glanced down the alley, only to let out a startled laugh.

Harry was strolling down the alley, his hands in his pockets, whistling a merry tune as he walked straight towards Fred.

“Hello, my love,” Harry called, waving his hand dramatically. “I was hoping to find you!”

“What are you doing here?” Fred laughed happily, running over to scoop Harry in his arms and spin him around. “I thought you couldn’t leave until tomorrow?”

“I’ve left early,” Harry said, laughing as he tilted his face towards Fred’s, his lips seeking Fred’s out immediately. They kissed for a moment, passion and excitement burning through Fred’s veins.

“Is George in your flat?” Harry whispered against Fred’s lips.

“Nope, he’s out for the weekend,” Fred said, attempting to recapture Harry’s lips in his own. “Why? Do you wanna go upstairs?”

“Yes,” Harry said, another laugh bursting from his mouth. He kicked his legs, making Fred laugh and softly set him back on his feet. “Lead the way, my brilliant fiancé.”

Fred was bemused by this sudden uncharacteristic display of affection and happiness pouring from Harry, but who was he to complain about it?

Harry was moody, maybe he’d finally just swung upwards to find a bit of happiness.

He led Harry upstairs to the flat the George and Angie shared, offering a drink that Harry turned down. Harry pushed Fred backwards, obviously wanting him on the sofa, and he quickly straddled his lap and began tugging at Fred’s shirt.

“Off, please,” Harry said plainly.

Fred chuckled lowly, “Your wish, my command.” He pulled the shirt off and tossed it carelessly on the floor. He rolled his head back when Harry immediately began lining his collarbone with his mouth- a kiss there, a bite there, and Fred was putty in his hands.

“Now these,” Harry whispered, pulling at the waistband of Fred’s trousers.

Fred, who had been lazily running his hands up and down Harry’s back, scratching lightly and avoiding the scars, causing Harry to moan while he kissed Fred’s chest, froze.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

“I’d like to shag you,” Harry said with a blinding smile that warmed Fred’s heart while his words warmed...

Something else.

“And it’s difficult with these-” Harry tugged on Fred’s trousers again, “-in the way.”

“But...” Fred was struggling to come up with the question he needed to ask as Harry lightly, almost curiously, palmed him through his trousers. “But why?” he blurted, resisting the urge to thrust in the contact. “I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to.”

He also desperately didn’t want to have another row. Nor did he want to see Harry break so terribly under the weight of all the things in his past that he barely discusses.

“Oh, I want to,” Harry winked with a very becoming smirk. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, would I?”

That had been a pretty good argument, really.

Fred’s resolve to discuss this first began to wane as Harry slowly shed his own shirt, grinning self-consciously.

“Do you want me?” Harry whispered.

“Fuck, so much,” Fred breathed. He considered his options quickly and decided that the spare room that was meant to be his would be their best bet. “Come on.”

Fred tucked Harry’s legs around his waist securely, standing up and causing Harry to laugh as he was holding Fred’s neck with his legs still wrapped around him.

“We’re supposed to keep the lights on, play music, and maybe I should be on top,” Harry said thoughtfully as Fred carried him to his room and dropped him on the bed. “Can- can I?” he asked, his voice nervous now as Fred climbed over him and began kissing his neck and running his hand wondrously down Harry’s bare side.

“Anything you want,” Fred said truthfully. He’d done it either way before, he didn’t really have a preference. “Would it be easier if you could see my face during it?” He’d read that in a book that Remus casually gave him. It had a lot of good advice in it, even though Fred had flinched when he read the title. ’No More: a Guide to Reclaiming Intimacy after Sexual Assault.’

It had been hard to read, probably the hardest book Fred had ever, or would ever, read, but Fred worked on it diligently. If Harry could slowly open up about his past to Fred, then Fred could do that for him.

For them.

Harry pushed Fred back, his nose adorably scrunched up in confusion. “How would that work?” he asked. “I- I don’t get it.”

Fred shook his head at Harry, working to keep his tone light even with the anger and grief that struck him in the chest. Harry only knew one position, one way to have sex. Harry didn’t know how to make love, or how to be romanced during it, he only knew one bloody position. “Love, there’s more than one way to do it,” he said softly.

Harry still looked confused, but he smiled too. “Teach me?” he whispered. His green eyes were wide, perfectly earnest and his hand clutched Fred’s shoulder, pulling him closer.

Dear God. Fred loved him so much. If he didn’t already have a ring on Harry’s hand, he would be booking it to go buy him one right then and there.

“I love you,” Fred said. He sat back on his haunches, unbuttoning his trousers slowly. He watched Harry, surreptitiously glancing at his hands since they were the first parts of Harry’s body that would betray his stress, but Harry’s hands were steady and his eyes were filled with lust while he watched Fred. Harry bit his lip as Fred slid his trousers down, exposing the top of his pants, and Fred thought he might be done for then and there.

For someone with very little experience with romantic seduction, Harry had a real knack for it.

“Are you sure?” Fred asked huskily as he kicked off his trousers and leaned back over Harry’s body.

“If I wasn’t, then Felix was,” Harry smirked.

Fred, who had been in the process of slowly unbuttoning Harry’s trousers, paused. “Felix?”

“Liquid luck,” Harry said, wriggling and trying to get Fred to continue undressing him.

One... two... three...

Fred slowly counted to ten before he sat back and sighed down at Harry. “Are you high?”

***

Harry laughed, “Very,” he said. “Kiss me?”

Fred shook his head, his red hair flopping across his forehead, making Harry want to run his fingers through it.

“I’ll kiss you, but I’m not having sex with you,” he said flatly.

“What?” Harry sat up and blinked at Fred.

That wasn’t very lucky.

“Why?” Harry demanded, clamping down on the niggling thought that maybe Fred didn’t find him attractive, or... or maybe Fred didn’t want to have sex with him because he freaked out last time, or...

“Harry, I love you,” Fred said softly, putting his hands on Harry’s cheeks. “I love you, I respect you, and I want the best for you, always. And we will not be having sex while you’re high on liquid luck.”

“But...” Harry pressed his lower lip out in a pout. “But I really want to?”

Fred huffed out a quiet laugh and poked Harry’s lip back to a normal position.

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m saying no.”

“You don’t understand,” Harry said earnestly, “you’re my sunny beach.”

“I...” Fred trailed off and cocked his head at Harry in a very Harry-like way that made Harry laugh. “I don’t know what that means.”

***

Fred thought his love for Harry had reached its capacity, truly he did.

He thought that the day he proposed to him, slid that ring on his finger, he never could have loved Harry any more than he did.

But, this was Harry fucking Potter, Master of the Impossible, and as Harry explained his odd statement, Fred fell in love so hard that he truly worried his heart would cease beating.

“My sunny beach,” Harry repeated. He grabbed Fred’s hand and smiled so freely, so beautifully, that Fred wondered how he had wound up with such an amazing person. “I thought you were my life raft, saving me from drowning in depression, but I was wrong,” Harry said. “You don’t keep me in the dark waves, you change them completely. You take an ocean trying to drag me under and drown me and transform it in to something calm, warm, welcoming. You make me feel safe.” Harry lifted Fred’s hand and kissed his palm, his green eyes smoldering as he held Fred’s eyes. “My sunny beach. My happy place,” he whispered.

“I love you,” Fred said, knowing the words would never adequately portray the depth of emotion he felt. “I love you so incredibly much.”

“Brill,” Harry said, a bright smile back on his face, “so, can we have sex?”

Fred laughed and shook his head. “No.”

***

“Where’s Harry at?” Ron asked Susan as she sat down for dinner.

“Somewhere doing something wicked I’m sure,” Susan winked.

“Is it...” Draco gulped and leaned closer to Susan, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Is it grenade guns again?”

Susan’s laughter filled the hall and echoed off the walls, causing all of her friends, except Luna, to lose a few shades of color from their faces.

Luna just bit her lip and tried to stifle her own quiet giggles.

“No,” she told Draco once she got control of her laughter. “It’s not grenade guns again.”

No one looked very reassured, but, as Harry would say, that wasn’t really her problem.

Susan eagerly pulled the platter of steak and kidney pie towards her. “This is my favorite,” she told Hermione happily. “Is that luck or a coincidence?”

“Both,” Hermione nodded.

“I think that owl is lucky though,” Luna hummed, drawing Susan’s attention to a pretty amber colored owl flying right towards her.

“Oh!” Susan’s smile was so wide that it began hurting her face as the owl landed on her shoulder and offered her a scroll. “He wrote back quick!”

“Who did?” Theo asked.

Susan flipped her hand at him, ignoring his question as she quickly unrolled the scroll.

Susan,
While your letter was both flattering and charming, I will firmly be turning down your offer to ‘go back to my place’. However, if you would like, I would very much enjoy taking you to dinner and getting to know you better.
Every bit of gold I’ve seen since this summer reminds me of your strength and your beauty.
I hope to see you soon,
-Charlie

”She’s turning red,” Neville murmured to Ron. “That’s bad, right?”

“Can’t imagine it’s anything good,” Ron said back to him before cleaning his throat. “Whatcha got there, Susan?”

Susan’s brows furrowed as she reread Charlie’s rejection of half of her offer.

That wasn’t very lucky at all.

Although... she absently grinned as she reread his last sentence.

“Nothing,” she told Ron airily, tucking the letter in her pocket for safe keeping. “I’ve got a date.”

Blaise chuckled. “Sure you do,” he winked. “Really though, what nonsense have you gotten into now?”

“Lucky nonsense,” Susan winked back. “Truly Blaise, perhaps I’ve finally found love.”

***

Sirius looked around the Great Hall and frowned.

Harry was gone.

Sirius leaned forward so he could look up and down the Head Table. Snape was gone too.

Which was fine.

It probably meant Harry and Snape were having dinner together.

“Looking for your godson?” Minnie asked him.

“He’s probably with Snape,” Sirius said, unconcerned now that he solved the puzzle.

“Hmm.” Minnie hummed quietly, her lips flattened as it looked like she struggled to contain a laugh. “I doubt that Harry is with Severus.”

Sirius put his fork and knife beside his plate and looked at Minnie curiously. “Why do you doubt that? They spend most weekends together.”

“No,” Minnie said slowly, giving Sirius a pitying sort of look. “Severus spends every Sunday with Harry, Friday and Saturday he saves for Nymphadora.”

“Fuck,” Sirius swore under his breath, his eyes flicking more carefully through the hall again. He ignored that bit about Tonks, choosing to focus on Harry instead. He couldn’t help it if Tonks’ portion of the Black Madness led her to striking up a relationship with Snape of all people. Sirius couldn’t imagine what she saw in him, but Tonks was a grown witch who could make crazy decisions if she wanted.

Sirius couldn’t wait to tell Andy about it though.

“Then where the hell is Harry?” he murmured.

“As I have yet to see Albus today, perhaps Harry snapped and killed him,” Minnie said with a blasé tone. As if it were a joke, and not precisely what Sirius had been worrying about. “Ah, no, I am wrong,” she said. She nodded towards Harry’s group of friends at the Slytherin table, “Harry would hardly commit a capital crime without Susan or Theodore.”

That...

That was a good point.

“So probably nothing too crazy then,” Sirius said hopefully.

Minnie laughed quietly and shook her head at Sirius. “Of course it’s something crazy, Harry is a madman. We simply won’t know what insane plot he is executing until he’s ready for us to know.”

Another good point.

***

Harry woke up, wrapped up snuggly in someone’s arms. It took less than a second to recognize them as Fred’s arms. Harry shifted backwards a little, feeling something rather hard poking in to his backside as the memories of yesterday washed over him.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned, embarrassed by his behavior.

“Good morning to you too,” Fred laughed, kissing the back of Harry’s neck lightly before nuzzling in to his hair. “Sober now, are you?”

“I’m going to die,” Harry moaned. “I can never go back to Hogwarts, Fred. I told everyone I loved them, everyone, Fred. I can’t even look at you.”

“Aww, am I not your sunny beach anymore, love?” Fred said, his breath sending chills down Harry’s spine. “You’re so bloody romantic when you’re high as a kite. I think that was the best night of my life.”

“There’s nothing funny about this,” Harry said, trying to sound firm as Fred’s hands creeped around Harry’s torso, trailing his fingernails lightly across his collarbone. “It’s not- aah, quit distracting me.”

“Mm, quit distracting you or quit touching you?” Fred asked, his hand hovering above Harry’s chest and his hips angled away from Harry’s now.

Harry puzzled over the distinction between the two and flipped over to study Fred’s face. “You said no?” he said uncertainly. “You didn’t want me?”

“Harry,” Fred’s eyes were soft as he carefully didn’t touch Harry, but still managed to make him feel as if he were being hugged with just the single word. “I said no because you were high. I don’t want us to have sex if you’re just floating along and not really consenting clearly.”

Harry gnawed his lip for a moment, nervous to speak now when everything spilled so easily last night. “I’m not high now,” he whispered with what felt like every bit of bravery in his body.

“No, you’re not,” Fred agreed. “But we also don’t have to do anything because you thought you wanted to last night. It’s not a race, love, we can do things on your time.”

Harry already used up all his bravery for speaking, so he instead just pressed forward, bringing his body flush against Fred’s. “I want to,” he breathed while kissing Fred. “Do you want me?”

“You have no idea,” Fred laughed.

By the time Harry returned to Hogwarts, having apparated to the grounds and then having to wait for someone to come let him through the gates, Harry was swaggering with the understanding of precisely how much Fred wanted him.

Also, holy hell, Susan had been right, Harry hadn’t known a thing about sex before this morning.

It had actually been a little awkward, and Harry had only lasted an embarrassingly short amount of time, but he wouldn’t be telling anyone that, would he? What he would be telling Susan, at least, was that he hadn’t even panicked.

Well.

He had only panicked a little, but they ‘took a timeout’, and Harry collected himself and dove back in. And once they were done, Harry had felt pretty smug about the happy look on Fred’s face. He had been decidedly less smug when George came home while Harry was shirtless in his kitchen, but he supposed it was solid proof that his luck really had run out.

Which didn’t really matter, because Harry planned on either brewing a batch himself, or stealing some from Slughorn.

The manic euphoria of flying all day had been brilliant, and Harry couldn’t wait to do it again.

“Good morning,” Harry said cheerfully as he spotted Sirius stomping across the snowy grounds, his arms crossed and his face rather peeved.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Sirius demanded as he let Harry in the gates. “It’s nearly lunch!”

“Shagging Fred,” Harry said flippantly. “It was brill, really.”

So was seeing Sirius trip in his shock and land face first in a pile of snow.

The week of detentions Harry would be serving after Christmas break were not so brill.

But it had been a small price to pay for the luckiest morning of Harry’s life.

Chapter Text

Friday December 19

Emboldened by Susan’s belief that Tonks was ‘great’, Tonks rapped her knuckles lightly on the door to Severus’ private quarters before letting herself inside.

“Evening,” she smiled when she saw him sitting in front of the fireplace, a stack of books on the table beside him, and a quill in his mouth. It shouldn’t have been a striking image, but it was. Severus had a look of intense concentration on his face that reminded Tonks that as much as he was a brilliant potions master, a deadly foe to face in a duel, and a dedicated guardian to his son- Sev was also a swot.

And Tonks always had a bit of a soft spot for swots.

“Evening,” Severus said, a hint of curiosity in his tone. “Have I mixed up our days again?”

Tonks laughed lightly and sat on his sofa. She kicked her shoes off and made herself comfortable with her feet tucked beneath her. “No, it’s Friday. I just ran in to Harry and Susan and thought I’d pop in and see what you were up to.”

“Aah.” Severus moved his book from his lap to the stack beside him and stood up, stretching his back as he did. “They are quite high on Felix Felicis at the moment. What chaos were they creating when you found them?”

“Harry said world domination, so probably that,” Tonks laughed.

“Probably,” Severus agreed with a fond chuckle. “Would you like a drink as we await the inevitable death and destruction?”

“Sure,” Tonks agreed easily, her eyes following Severus as he moved to his always well-stocked liquor cabinet. She hadn’t been trying to be creepy, but the man moved so gracefully. It was a wonder she had ever been able to graduate with a NEWT in his class. Thank Merlin she had been a late bloomer in the hormones department. She certainly wouldn’t be able to now.

At least a bit of her amusement must have been visible on her face because when Severus handed her a glass of some amber liquid, he raised a brow at her.

“Something funny?” he asked, taking his seat again and sipping his drink.

“I was thinking about the likelihood of me passing potions again,” Tonks said with a small grin. “I think I’d fail.”

Severus scoffed and elegantly crossed his legs. “You are an adequate brewer, I doubt if you would fail entirely.”

“No, I would,” Tonks disagreed after taking a fortifying drink of the liquor. “You’d distract me. I’d be told to brew a nerve regeneration potion and I’d just watch you grade essays.”

Severus—

Holy hell.

Harry was right.

Severus’ cheeks turned a faint shade of pink at her relatively innocent remark.

“You are incorrigible,” Severus said after clearing his throat. “How is the DMLE under the new Head?”

Terrible, actually. Thicknesse was an arsehole and Tonks hated him. But she wasn’t going to let Severus distract her when she’d finally gotten a small little bit of proof that maybe her feelings weren’t entirely unreciprocated.

“Don’t discourage me then,” Tonks said with a coy smile as she slid to the end of the sofa closer to Severus’ chair. “You know I fancy you, and I think you might fancy me as well.”

Severus sat his glass down on his stack of books and turned a blank face to Tonks.

Tonks knew that blank face. He wore it a lot when he wanted to hide his emotions and thoughts.

She kind of wanted to rip it off and see what was underneath.

“Nymphadora, you have misplaced your affections,” Severus said slowly. “And perhaps you have misunderstood our friendship, as peculiar as it may be at times.”

“Severus,” Tonks mimicked his slow drawl, “You can’t tell me that I have misplaced my own affections.”

“Be realistic,” Severus said, just a bit snappily. “I am thirteen years your senior, Nymphadora.”

Tonks held back her grin, but really maybe Harry’s advice had some merit. She could just wait for Severus to give her all his arguments and then clear this whole thing up tonight.

“I’ve always liked older men,” Tonks said with a shrug. “What’s thirteen years when we could live for another hundred?”

Severus looked taken aback for just a second, if she had blinked she would have missed it, but then he narrowed his dark eyes and Tonks knew they were getting somewhere. Severus held her eyes as he very slowly unbuttoned and rolled up his left sleeve—

Tonks had a bit of a mad thought that her single argument worked and now they were really getting somewhere.

—and Severus held up his forearm, brandishing the snake and skull marking that Tonks knew all death eaters in Voldemort’s inner circle wore.

Severus inhaled just a little and spoke softly. “I was a marked death eater who partook in heinous crimes against muggles, Nymphadora. I am not a good man. You should aspire to find someone who is to share your life with.”

Tonks reached a hand out, hovering over his arm. She looked at him and he studied her face for a moment before jerking his chin in a nod.

Tonks traced the dark black pattern tattooed on his arm while she considered that. She knew the papers said that Sev had been a spy, and she knew what her coworkers said; Severus had once been the right-hand man of Voldemort and switched sides at the end of the first war to save his own skin. In the end, either scenario had the same result: a twenty year old kid had been arrested and sent to Azkaban without a trial.

“You were a kid,” she said quietly as she looked up to see his face. Sev had his face tilted down to where her fingers were still on his arm, and damn if the look of pain in the back of his eyes didn’t cement her own thoughts. “Kids do dumb shit, Sev. You joined the wrong side, who cares? You’re on the right side now.”

Severus slowly, probably in an effort to not hurt her feelings, pulled his arm free from her reach and got to his feet. “You are idealizing what many would consider to be a reprehensible decision,” he said coolly, his eyes smoldering and obscure, his mouth forming a defensive sneer.

“Oh, I’m not,” Tonks assured him, smiling up at him. “It was a pretty damn bad choice, but you’re literally leading an army with Harry Potter now, can’t imagine it gets much further from being a death eater than that.”

Severus scoffed and began pacing in front of his fireplace. Tonks relaxed back against the sofa and prepared herself for what she was certain was going to be a list of every fault Severus thought he had.

And he had some.

He wasn’t perfect.

He was real, and that was better than perfect.

“I am a petty man, Nymphadora,” Severus sneered, apparently hoping to drive her away with it. As if Tonks would be frightened off by a little change in tone and expression. She was an auror for crying out loud. “I still dream about strangling the life from your cousin for his actions when he was a mentally ill teenaged boy.”

“No problem,” Tonks said airily, “I can hate Sirius too. We can hate him together, if you’d like. I’ll go curse him right now, I know some good ones.”

She probably wouldn’t, but as petty as Severus thought he was, she doubted if he would actually want her to. He did pause his pacing for a moment to give her a disbelieving look. Tonks just smiled, waiting for his next argument. It took him a moment, but he did finally find one.

“You are not seeing me clearly,” he said. “I am not some tragic man deserving of your ‘love’,” he did actual air quotes that made Tonks snort, “I am an unpleasant bastard.”

“A bit,” Tonks agreed easily. It was actually a little sad how negatively Severus saw himself, someone who made a few mistakes in life and suddenly didn’t deserve ‘love’. Well, that she could try and fix. She leaned forward and waited for him to turn towards her so she could look right in his eyes as she spoke. “You’re also brilliant, brave, resilient, and handsome. Who cares if you’re a bit of a bastard? I’m not all sunshine and rainbows, Sev.”

Somehow, Tonks’ argument just irritated Severus more and his frantic pacing increased as did the level of his voice.

“I was in love with Harry’s mother,” Severus spat.

As if Tonks would be jealous of a dead women or an unrequited crush of a teenager.

“Lily?” she asked. “Yeah, I’ve seen pictures, she was beautiful.”

Key word in both of their statements: was. Lily Potter had been dead for fifteen years now.

“Who wouldn’t fall in love with her?” Tonks grinned. “If that’s your way of saying you prefer red-heads, well...” She shook out her suddenly bright cherry red hair and winked playfully at Severus.

Severus scoffed again. “I do not,” he said as he shook his head at her. Which was exactly the right answer. She knew he liked her pink hair, he told her so himself. So she smirked smugly and turned it back to her preferred pink bob.

“I have a teenage son,” he said, switching tracks quick. “Harry is the single most important person in my life.”

As if saying that didn’t make Tonks fall just a little more for this man who did so much for his kid. Severus thought he was a bastard? A bad man?

Pft.

“Turns out I was wrong before,” Tonks said seriously, “I don’t mind being a stepmum after all.”

Severus wasn’t looking at her, but she still saw the edge of his lips twitch.

Severus: zero.
Tonks: at least three or four.

Severus took a deep breath and seemed to be steadying himself to say something appalling. Tonks prepared herself, waiting for whatever it was he thought would finally drive her away.

He turned to look at her, and Tonks was frozen in place by the look in his eyes. It was raw, it was open, and he was burning.

“If it comes down to Harry’s death, I will follow him to the grave,” Severus said, honesty dripping from every word he spoke. “I do not anticipate having a long lifespan.”

“That...” Tonks recoiled in surprise. How had she not pieced that together? She knew Severus would kill for Harry, he would take his place and die for him if he could. She just didn’t realize that he had planned on dying with him as well. “Well, that’s pretty messed up, actually,” Tonks said truthfully. “I’m pretty sure Harry would hate that.”

Harry was a bit of a narcissist, or, at least, pretended to be one rather well. He was definitely selfish and self-serving, but Tonks doubted if the kid who just encouraged her to come irritate Severus would really want to see the man follow him to the grave.

But, if Tonks only had one person, one purpose, in her life, would she feel the same way?

It was understandable, even if it was morbid.

And she would just have to change his mind. Show him that even if the unthinkable happened, even if Severus’ entire world came to a screeching halt, it didn’t have to stay that way. The world could turn again, even if it would be darker and more bleak.

If Harry died, Severus didn’t have to.

“What do I have to do to convince you that I am not suitable for you?!” Severus yelled, yanking Tonks to the present and out of the future. “Go find someone else!”

“Nah.” Tonks grinned and stretched out on the sofa. “I’m rather comfortable here. Please though, keep trying to drive me away. You’re doing a bang up job of it, really.”

Severus’ jaw dropped for a moment, then he blinked and the surprise was hidden again. “Your friend, Charles Weasley, go date him.”

“Ugh,” Tonks shuddered in true revulsion. “Charlie? He’s like my brother, Sev. Plus, I think he fancies Susan. He talks about her a bit, asking me little things about her. Now, I’ll have to give him a terrifying talk eventually. You know ‘if you hurt Susan then I’ll kill you’ or however guardians are meant to threaten the boyfriends of their charges. How’d you threaten Fred? Maybe I can just reuse that?”

Severus didn’t laugh, or do that twitchy thing his lips did when he wanted to laugh, he actually looked truly surprised and didn’t even bother trying to hide it this time.

“Your charge?” he asked, stepping closer to the sofa. “You took over guardianship of Susan?”

“Well, yeah,” Tonks shrugged, a bit uncomfortable. “Susan needed someone and... and I thought maybe we’d get along good, and we practically lived together last summer, didn’t we? Plus... plus I cut her arm off, Sev. No way to go back in time and give her an arm back, so... so instead maybe I can just be there for her now. Is that stupid?”

“No.” Severus sighed and sat next to her on the sofa, a little bit of space between them that Tonks slowly inched across. “It is not stupid. It is admirable of you to do so.”

Tonks mentally added ‘admirable’ of the list of small compliments he’d given her so far. There weren’t many, but just the fact that he trusted her with his problems, let her comfort him during Barty’s funeral, comforted her during Amelia; all those moments meant more than pretty words that anyone could say.

Severus glanced over and snorted at how Tonks was now right next to him. He shook his head at her, a sprig of his black hair coming loose from where he had it tucked behind his ear. “You are also quite irritating,” he said drily.

“Yeah.” Tonks slowly reached up and tucked the hair back in place, her finger lingering on the curve of his earlobe. “Yeah I am.”

Severus reached up and gently grabbed her hand, holding it in place rather than moving it away as she thought he might. They stared in each other’s eyes for a long moment.

“I might hate you,” he whispered, the silk in his voice gone for a rasp that struck every nerve in Tonks’ body.

“You don’t,” she said with a quiet confidence. “You don’t hate me at all.”

She could see it happening through his eyes, the true windows to the soul. She could see him trying to harden himself, push her away, but he failed. Because she saw the fissure where that cold mask cracked and there was a bit of wonder in his eyes now.

“No,” he said. “I suppose I don’t.”

Tonks smiled slowly. Not a teasing smile, or a playful one that she used to try and make Sev smile. A true smile in repayment to his true words.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked. She moved her hand down the side of his throat and slipped it to the back of his neck. Severus’ hand hovered in the air indecisively before he slowly, so painfully slowly, moved it to her face, lightly cupping her jaw.

She already knew it, she’d held his hand enough times to notice it, but Severus had rough hands. Hands hardened by chopping ingredients, brewing potions, and grading essays. Calloused hands that weren’t afraid to get dirty. What she did not know, was that Severus’ rough hands had the capability of being so soft, so gentle.

He didn’t answer her question, but he applied a light pressure on her jaw, pulling her closer. They were nearly nose to nose now, Tonks could smell the hint of mint on his breath, and she could see that the onyx color of his eyes was actually a deep, dark brown color.

And then she forgot all about the color of his eyes because he pulled her closer still and put his lips on hers and her brain fizzled out. It started gentle, just a soft and sweet pressure of his lips on hers, but then she gasped a little in surprise, and he deepened it.

How was a mouth that was capable of spewing such clever and cold insults also be capable of kissing so sweetly, so scorchingly, and so perfectly?

Severus was a conundrum and there was nothing Nymphadora liked more than a good mystery to keep her up at night.

She turned a little, moving her left arm to Severus’ shoulder and turning him as well, so his back was to the armrest, where she promptly pushed him backwards to it. Severus was compliant, moving in the direction she wanted him, accepting it as she ran her nails lightly across his scalp, never breaking his mouth from hers as they went from a sweet first kiss to something decidedly more sensual.

Tonks braced herself above Severus with one hand on the armrest beside his head and she moved the other one from the back of his head down his neck, dancing lightly across his jaw, and settling on his chest. Severus still had one hand on her face, but his other hand wasn’t touching her, and that needed correcting.

“You can touch me,” she whispered against his lips. “It’s okay.”

Severus made a small noise in the back of his throat. “Nymph—”

“No,” she cut off whatever arguments he was about to make. “I want you to. I want you.”

Severus swore quietly, and then he gave in completely.

And dear God, was there anything sexier than Severus finally losing his stoicism and giving in to desire? If there was, Tonks would never know, because this was what she had wanted for over a year now.

Severus grabbed her hip, gently at first, then more firmly. He slid his other hand to her shoulder and used his grip to flip their position on the sofa and Tonks stared up at him with a wide smile. She could feel his long, lean, body against hers. She could feel his chest pressing against hers, his breaths coming quickly as he gazed back down at her.

“Why are you smiling?” he murmured. He kept one of his hands on her hip, but moved his other to her hair, toying with the pink locks with a rapturous expression.

Tonks wondered how long he’d wanted to play with her hair that he looked so amazed by his ability to do so now.

“You’ve given in,” she said simply, her voice a bit thick with the desire flooding her body.

“Well,” Severus smirked a little now, “you are very insistent.”

Tonks arched her back, tilting her chin up in an open invite for him to kiss her again. “I think such a show of persistence should be rewarded,” she whispered with a wicked light in her eyes.

Severus’ eyes moved from her hair to her face, and his small smirk grew. “Perhaps,” he agreed quietly. His hand was slow, hesitant and adorably nervous, as he resumed driving every thought out of Tonks’ mind with his kiss. As she twisted and turned beneath him, encouraging him to touch her more freely, he gained a little confidence. He ran his hand up her side, dipping in with the dip of her stomach, and slowing as he came up to the curve of her breasts.

Tonks was not hesitant. She happily explored his torso with her hands, struggling just a bit to push his robes off his shoulders so she could get better access. It wasn’t until she slid her hand beneath his shirt, touching his hard abdomen, that Severus pulled away from her with a small gasp as air flooded back in his lungs.

“We can’t,” he said. “We—”

“Do you want me? Because I want you,” Tonks said, her eyes flashing with equal parts desire and annoyance at the interruption.

He was so bloody stubborn.

Severus tapped her cheek with his thumb and shook his head, a smile curling his lips upward in the corners. “We cannot do anything on the sofa,” he said slowly.

What?

Oh.

Oh.

Tonks nearly knocked Severus to the ground as she quickly pushed him off her in her eagerness to relocate.

“Do you mean I get to sleep in your bed now?” she laughed a bit breathlessly.

Severus pulled her close for a moment and whispered in her ear, “Or not sleep in my bed.”

The shiver that whisper gave her went from head to toe.

One man should not have the power to be so sexy.

Severus let go of her, turning towards his bedroom door, and Tonks’ feet chose the worst time to trip in her haste to follow him. She caught herself on his stack of books on the little table, accidentally sending them flying all around the room.

“Damnit,” she swore. She knelt down, quickly trying to pluck up all the bits of parchment that scattered from between the pages. “Sorry,” she muttered, cursing her clumsiness.

Severus chuckled quietly, kneeling to help her. They reached for a parchment at the same time, their fingers brushing in an innocently sweet way that caused Tonks’ to blush when it was coupled with the palatable sexual tension between them. She averted her eyes from Severus’ smoldering ones to glance at the parchment and let out a surprised laugh at the image it looked like Severus had drawn over and over on the page.

“Sev, why are you drawing the symbol for the Hallows?”

Severus froze, all previous tension between them dissipating quicker than Tonks could understand. “What did you call it?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused as to what just happened. She looked back down at the symbol he’d drawn. “It’s- Isn’t that what you meant to draw? The Tales of Beedle the Bard? The Tale of the Three Brothers? Surely you’ve read it?”

The small frown Severus made told Tonks that no, he hadn’t read it before.

It also seemed as if they weren’t moving to his bedroom any time soon. So Tonks sighed in a dramatically put upon way and got back to her feet.

“Come on, Sev,” she said, holding her hand out to him. “Let’s make a quick trip to the library and I’ll read you a story.”

Chapter Text

Tuesday, December 23

“No,” Snape said sternly. “I will not.”

Harry blinked at him.

“Do not pout, it is unbecoming and juvenile,” Snape said, pointing his fork threateningly at Harry. “I will not do it.”

Harry sighed. “You’d make me go by myself?”

“Do not try and lie to me, Potter,” Snape said curtly.

Harry was pretty sure he was calling him Potter as a joke though, which meant he’d probably cave if Harry kept pestering him.

“You will have every member of your motley band of misfits with you, you do not need me as well.”

“Three choices,” Harry said, smiling charmingly. Not that Snape was usually charmed by Harry’s smiles, even if they worked on literally every other professor at Hogwarts, but it was worth a shot. “Option one, you go with us tomorrow and it’s not horrible. Option two, you go with us on the 26th. Or option three, you do neither and I lock you out of our office for the rest of our break.”

Mavis, who had been bringing in a fresh pot of coffee, chuckled quietly. “Master Harry is tricky and sneaky, and Mister Snoop has no one to blame but himself.”

“He’s right, this is your own fault,” Harry shrugged. “Thanks, Mavis.”

Snape sighed dramatically and looked up to the ceiling. “I believe I would prefer to take my chances with Horace on the 26th than I would Molly on the 24th.”

“Wrong answer,” Harry said with a grin. He slid the letter Fred’s mum sent him across the table to Snape and pointed out the specific line where he had been invited. “‘And please bring Severus, it’s well past time I get to know him better, isn’t it?’ Sooo... either you have to go, or you’ve got to tell your future something-in-law that you don’t care about her feelings. And—” this time Harry pointed his fork threateningly at Snape, “—Molly Weasley is a crier.”

“Terrific,” Snape scowled, shoving the letter away from his plate of kippers and toast. “What time are we expected to be there tomorrow?”

“Eleven,” Harry grinned. He knew Snape would cave. “It’s not so bad, Sev, Tonks will be there, won’t she?”

That didn’t seem to reassure Snape at all. In fact, he looked like he was rapidly losing all the color in his face. “Harry,” he said slowly, “who all, precisely, will be at the Weasley residence tomorrow?”

“Everyone,” Harry said simply. “Molly invited everyone, Sev.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Yep.” Harry grimaced in understanding. Snape liked people about as much as Harry did, which wasn’t much really. Yeah, most of the people there would be Harry’s friends and Harry’s people, but there would also be Ginny Weasley, her current boyfriend, Dean Thomas, a few ‘Order members’, and Neville’s gran. “See why I need you to go?”

“We could both skip,” Snape offered quickly. “We will tell them we are too ill to attend. We wait until everyone else leaves, and I will let you drink bourbon, or even the firewhiskey you like, with me instead.”

“Can’t,” Harry shrugged, poking at his eggs a bit moodily now. That sounded way more fun honestly. “Susan wants to go. Let’s do that next year though. Plus, I promised Fred I’d be there. It’s- it’s the first holiday without his dad, which is why his mum went mad inviting people over. He said she wants a full house so she can be ‘properly distracted’.”

“We are being guilted by a grieving widow,” Snape groaned. “Fantastic.”

“We are,” Harry agreed. “It’s just one day though, we’ve dealt with way worse before, yeah?”

Snape curled his lip up, but he didn’t really look too pissed so Harry wasn’t worried about it. Honestly, as much as Harry had needed a break from Hogwarts, it seemed like Snape had too. Ever since they returned to Invisibility Way on Saturday, Snape had been almost happy, cheerful really. Which was a bit of an odd flip from his previous consistent doom and gloom.

Susan said it was probably because of Tonks, who she swore was now officially ‘with’ Snape.

Harry didn’t think so though. He knew Snape fancied Tonks, but Snape had been downtrodden since summer started, and Harry doubted it was over Tonks. It was more like there had been a heavy weight on Snape’s shoulders that he recently shed off.

Snape didn’t answer him when Harry asked about his quick shift in moods when they first returned home from Hogwarts, but maybe Harry wasn’t the only one who had been feeling a bit depressed lately. And it didn’t matter what had been bothering him if it had apparently been resolved now.

Now Harry could be the only thing bothering him.

Which is the way he preferred it really.

“This was a fucking mistake,” Harry muttered darkly the next morning when almost everyone who was spending the holidays at Invisibility Way were gathered on the front yard to apparate to the Burrow.

Theo looked like he agreed with him.

Draco, Luna, and Hermione did not.

“Ron’s family is great,” Draco said haughtily. “You’re going to be a Weasley one day, you might as well get used to being around them all.”

“There’s a difference between being with just the Weasleys, and being around a million people,” Theo scowled, tugging at his shirt collar nervously all the while.

“And Fred’s going to change his last name, not me,” Harry corrected Draco.

“Harry Weasley sounds ridiculous,” Luna agreed serenely.

“Either way, you should get used to his family,” said Hermione with a roll of her eyes. “And give his family a chance to get to know yours.”

Harry squinted at Hermione and tilted his head slightly. “I’m an orphan, Mione. I don’t really have any family.”

“Hell of a thing to say in front of your brother,” Theo said with his brows raised high.

“And your cousin,” Draco sniffed.

“And your future sister-in-law,” Hermione added with a shy smile towards Theo.

“We aren’t related, but I wish we were,” Luna said sweetly.

All fair points, Harry supposed.

“Can we just go?” Harry said, sick to death of waiting for Cissa to get ready and really wanting to get the day over with.

“Some of us,” Hermione gave Harry a pointed look, “can’t apparate until we learn how.”

“I’ll teach you,” Harry offered immediately.

“I think we should wait for the Ministry official to do it,” Theo said hastily. “Classes start next month.”

“Suit yourself,” Harry shrugged. He didn’t really get the fuss all the other sixth years were making over apparation classes. Harry offered to teach them all how to do it, then they could just take the test on their seventeenth birthday, but nobody aside from Trent and Susan took him up on his offer.

“Finally,” Draco sighed when his mum and Snape exited the house and made their way towards them. “What took so long?”

“Perfection,” Cissa said with a small smile. She did look great, truthfully, but Cissa always looked great and she always took forever to get ready to go.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Snape said with his own scowl. He offered his arm to Theo, but Theo hesitated.

“I’ll go with Harry, Hermione can go with you, sir,” he said.

“Nobody is going with Harry,” Snape said sharply. “Harry will be going with Draco and Narcissa and not flaunting his disdain for the laws when there will be aurors present at Molly Weasley’s house.”

Harry nodded seriously.

Then grabbed Theo’s hand, quickly turned on the spot and disapparated to the Burrow.

“You bloody prat!” Theo howled as soon as they landed in Fred’s mum’s front yard. “You could have killed me!”

“How?” Harry asked curiously. He didn’t think you could kill someone with surprise apparation, but if it was possible, Harry would give it a shot.

“You- I...” Theo faltered as he hooked his thumbs in his trouser pockets and tapped his fingers on his thighs. “Splinching, Harry,” he said, trying to sound stern, “I could have been splinched.”

So, no. Harry could not kill Timmy with surprise apparation.

“Riiiight,” Harry drawled irritatingly with a smug smile. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“I will,” Theo muttered as two loud cracks signaled the arrival of the others.

“You idiot,” Snape scowled at Harry as he steadied Hermione’s clumsy landing with a hand on her elbow. Luna winked at Harry from Snape’s other side. “You will end up arrested for your antics one day.”

“Apparation without a license carries a maximum penalty of 1,000 galleons for a first offense,” Hermione said factually. “Harry wouldn’t be facing a prison sentence until his third charge.”

“Ta,” Harry grinned at her.

“Can we go or are we arguing?” Draco asked, inching eagerly away from the group towards the cockeyed house that Harry had been to a couple of times.

“I’d rather argue,” Harry murmured to Snape as they began following him. “Why are you so fuckin excited, anyway?” Harry asked Draco. “We see Ron all the time.”

Draco looked over his shoulder and gave Harry a wicked smile. “Daphne is coming,” he said. “Which means that Ron is going to be an absolute idiot and I want to witness it for myself.”

“Brilliant,” Theo snickered. “Come on, love, let’s hurry.”

Hermione huffed, but she joined Harry, Luna, and Theo in jogging to catch up with Draco as he approached the door.

Harry barely raised his fist to knock before the door was thrown open by George.

“Darlin!” George cried happily. “You came!”

Harry cocked his head curiously at George and took a small step backwards. “Er... yeah?” he said uncertainly, unsure why George would call him that. He really only liked Fred to do it and hoped George didn’t think they were friends just because he saw Harry shirtless once. “I told Fred I would, and I’m not much of a liar, am I?”

“I’m Fred,” George said with a crooked smile. “Surely a few days apart hasn’t made you mix me up with George?”

Harry snorted, catching on to the joke now. “It hasn’t been a few days, it’s been a couple hours,” Harry smirked. “Fred was in my bed this morning. Not you.”

“I bloody well hope not,” Fred laughed, shoving George aside with his shoulder. “Quit being a git and let them in,” he told his brother. “C’mon in,” Fred said more politely to Harry’s little group. “We’re eating in the backyard though, mum invited too many people to fit in the house.”

“But it’s freezing out?” Hermione said as they stepped in the house. Theo waited and held the door open for Snape and Cissa.

“We’re literally magic, Mione,” Harry laughed.

“Oh. Of course.”

Harry shook his head at her as Fred led them through the house.

“Adults are in there,” Fred grinned at Snape and Cissa, jerking his thumb to the kitchen entrance. “I think it’s just Mum, Fleur, Tonks, Shacklebolt, and Sirius so far.”

“How many more are you expecting?” Snape sighed, eying the door distastefully.

“Remus, and Neville’s gran,” Fred said cheerily, probably picking up on Snape’s ‘I would rather be anywhere except here’ mood. “Bit of a full house, really.”

“Come, Severus,” Cissa said brightly. “Let’s go mingle with the ‘adults’.”

Snape glared at Harry one last time before he let Cissa lead him in to the kitchen while Fred led the rest of them to the backyard.

“Harry!” Trent yelled, waving Harry over to a cluster of picnic tables. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” Harry told him, nodding at Trent as he took stock of everyone else in the yard.

Blaise and Trent were seated together with cards scattered in front of them. Susan, Bill, and Charlie were at another table, chatting together easily. Then Ginny and Dean Thomas were at another table, and Ginny didn’t look very pleased at Harry’s appearance so he smiled brightly at her and added a wink just to see Thomas scowl a bit.

“Try not to start a fight,” Theo murmured to Harry with a smirk as they made their way towards the big gap between Susan’s group and Trent’s.

“But it’s Christmas,” Harry grinned. “Live a little, Theo.”

Fred heard their quiet discussion and laughed as he slung his arm over Harry’s shoulder. He clearly didn’t mind if Harry started a fight or not. Harry glanced up at him and thought Fred looked much less sad than he had before he left Harry’s earlier that morning. He’d been sad since the anniversary of his dad’s death, and he’d been miserable when he told Harry that they used to all always be together on Christmas Eve and now they couldn’t be anymore, but he looked a little better now, thankfully.

Fred did a showy bow as Harry went to sit down, unfortunately having to sit beside Charlie so he could be across from Susan, and the others filed in randomly around them.

“Merry Christmas,” Susan said with a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

And since that was a stupid thing for Susan to say when she was obviously pretty unhappy about it, Harry didn’t say it back. He nudged her foot under the table and twisted his leg around hers. Susan gave him a little smile as she hooked her foot on his ankle.

“Where’s Ron?” Harry asked, not really speaking to anyone in particular. He looked around the yard again, but didn’t see him anywhere. And usually if there were cards out, Ron would be in the middle of it.

Ron was a genius at cards and he knew it too.

“Cleaning,” Bill snorted.

“What?” Harry squinted at him, unsure if he was joking or not. He glanced at Fred, who sat beside him, and raised a brow.

“He’s serious,” Fred said with a grin. “Ronnie’s been cleaning since he got home.”

“For Daaaaaphne,” Charlie sang. “Nothing can have a speck of dust or else Daaaaaaphne might understand that Ron’s a total prat.”

“Ron is not a fuckin prat,” Harry scowled.

He had no idea what Susan saw in Charlie. First off, Charlie was probably as strong as Susan’s one arm was. He also had a few tattoo’s and scars that made Harry naturally wary of him. And... just in general, Charlie wasn’t nearly as fun as Fred or Ron were. Not that Harry knew much about him, besides the little bits Fred shared, but he couldn’t imagine that someone who had ‘terrible depression’ and looked like a murderer could really be that fun to hang around.

Even Bill would have been a better choice.

If he weren’t marrying Fleur.

“You’re right,” Charlie agreed, shockingly. He looked over and gave Harry a friendly smile, almost as if he could guess that Harry didn’t like him and wanted to change his mind. “He is nervous for Daphne to meet all of us though.”

“And, as his brothers, it is our duty to make it a hundred times worse,” Bill said solemnly.

Harry scoffed. “I didn’t make it worse on Theo when he brought Mione over for the first time, did I? I don’t think there’s a rule that says you have to make him miserable.”

“No, there is,” George said seriously from Fred’s other side. “Right, Freddie?”

Fred glanced down at Harry then shrugged. “I mean, I think Ron’s just excited.”

“Traitor!” George howled, startling everyone else up and down the benches. “You’re turning your back on us for Harry!”

“I’ve been saying that for years.”

Harry leaned forward and raised his brows in interest at Ginny’s little comment. For someone who thought he stabbed her and wiped her memory afterwards, Ginny really liked picking fights with him.

Harry opened his mouth to wheedle her a bit, kind of hoping he could provoke her in to an actual duel, but before he could, Trent stood up and glared at her.

“Watch yourself,” Trent said harshly. “George was joking.”

“You watch yourself,” Ginny said hotly, getting to her feet as well while flicking her hair over her shoulder. Thomas hovered awkwardly, as if he didn’t know if he should stand up as well, and mostly just looked a little confused. “You keep running around with Harry and next thing you know, you’ll be waking up in the Hospital Wing with a bloody stab wound and no memory.”

“Don’t threaten Trent,” Harry warned her, narrowing his eyes and leaning around Charlie to be sure she saw him. “He didn’t do a damn thing to you.”

“You don’t talk to me,” Ginny said, sounding like a child. “I will never understand what Fred sees in you.”

“Oi, that’s enough,” Bill said firmly as Harry jumped to his feet as well now. “Gin, don’t start a fight. You’ll break mum’s heart. Harry, knock it off. Trent, shush.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Ginny told Dean, snatching his hand and storming away towards the quidditch field the Weasley’s used.

Every single time Harry had to interact with Ron and Fred’s sister, he wished he had just killed her and left her in Slytherin’s Chamber when he had the chance. Now, he was going to be stuck dealing with her all the fuckin time.

Fred was lucky he was one of the best people Harry had ever known, otherwise it might not be worth it.

“She’s having a hard time,” Charlie told Harry quietly as they all resumed their seats and watched Ginny and Thomas leave. “Ignore her, mate.”

“Whatever,” Harry said flippantly. “I don’t care what she says about me, but she better not go after Trent again.”

“You’re embarrassing,” Trent called down to him, causing Fred and Blaise to snicker. “I can handle myself.”

“Awe, but why would you?” Blaise smirked. “When your big brother is there to fight your fights for you, little PJ.”

“Quit,” Harry snapped at him, unintentionally proving Blaise’s point.

It was a little awkward for a moment until Luna started giggling quietly.

“Daphne’s here,” she said. “Harry, want to go support Ron with me?”

“Fuck yes,” Harry breathed, jumping to his feet eagerly to escape the tense mood that he was pretty sure he caused. “I’ll be back,” he told Fred.

Fred puckered his lips out so Harry rolled his eyes and kissed him quickly, much to the amusement of his brothers who started hooting and hollering, then quickly sloped off towards the house with Luna.

“Thanks, Lue,” he murmured. “I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”

“You’re surprisingly bad at dealing with family for someone so naturally charismatic,” Luna said thoughtfully. She linked her arm with Harry’s and gave him a warm smile. “I think my parents would have liked you though.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yes,” Luna said. “Daddy was quite mad, so he would have loved you. I know my mother would have liked you. Except, I suppose my mother was rather mad too, which is probably why I’m mad.”

“You aren’t mad,” Harry said with a frown. “You’re perfect, Lue.”

Harry might be fucking things up with Fred’s family, but the smile Luna gave him reassured him just a little.

They let themselves in to the Burrow, taking the kitchen entrance at Luna’s insistence and got to step in just in time to hear Ron shouting that Daphne had arrived.

“Go let her in then!” Fred’s mum, Molly, shouted from her position at the stove. She turned and smiled at Harry and Luna. “Harry, dear, I’m so glad you came! And Luna, how are you honey?”

“I’m adequate,” Luna said, “would you like some help?”

“Oh, that would be wonderful, thank you dear,” Molly said. She scooted over so Luna could join her at the stove and began explaining the sauce she had been working on.

Harry glanced around the room, taking note of the others at the overloaded dining table before Fleur stood up and quickly wrapped Harry in a hug.

“‘Arry!” she cried happily. “I ‘ave missed you! You do not write enough!”

“I write you... sometimes,” Harry grinned as Fleur let go of him. He spotted the ring on her hand and waggled his brows. “Did you guys pick a date yet?”

“This summer,” Molly said with a warm smile. “I expect you and Fred will want to wait a few years, at least until after you graduate?” she asked Harry with a bit of a pointed look.

Harry glanced at Snape, who was smirking at him in his spot beside Tonks.

“We haven’t really talked about it much,” Harry lied politely. “We can’t do anything until after August 1st, anyway.”

“Zat is when Bill and I are getting married!” Fleur said. “We should make eet a double wedding, non?”

“Er...” Fred had actually mentioned wanting to get married right after Harry’s birthday, which had been fine with Harry. But Harry very much did not want a ‘double wedding’ with Fleur and Bill, as much as he might like Fleur. Harry glanced at Sirius for help this time, since Snape obviously wasn’t going to help him, but Sirius just grinned and shook his head.

Bloody useless.

“Mum!”

Oh thank God.

Ron burst in the kitchen, a wide smile on his face and...

And what looked like Draco’s dress robes on. Despite the fact everyone else in Ron’s family that Harry had seen were all wearing Weasley sweaters.

Even Harry and Draco had their Weasley sweaters on.

Luna darted back to Harry’s side, watching as Ron tripped in the room, his ears bright red, and held the door open for Daphne. Daphne gave Ron a peculiar look before stepping gracefully into the kitchen and smiling sweetly at Molly.

“Hello,” she said, turning her head a little to address the rest of the room. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course!” Molly said, her smile growing as she took in Daphne’s neat appearance and polite manners. “Any friend of Ron’s is always welcome here!”

Daphne scrunched her brows for a moment before giving Ron a pointed look.

“Er...” Ron’s ears turned so red that Harry was beginning to worry about his general health. He stepped up beside Daphne and grabbed her hand. “Girlfriend, mum. Daphne is my girlfriend, not just my friend.”

“Oh.” Molly glanced at Cissa for a moment as she wiped her hands off on her apron. “I thought Draco and Ron were dating?” she asked her.

Cissa, and pretty much everyone else in the room aside from Ron, laughed.

“Oh, no,” Cissa said with an airy wave of her hand and a fond look towards Luna. “Draco and Luna are courting, I’m afraid he’s quite spoken for.”

“Quite,” Luna agreed.

“I’m so sorry,” Molly told Daphne, ignoring Ron’s look of horror. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you, dear! Are you in Slytherin as well?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Daphne said politely. “May I help you with anything? You look terribly busy and woefully under-assisted. I thought Ron said he had five brothers?”

Harry wished he could do that. With just a few little sentences, Molly looked like she wholeheartedly approved of Daphne and she quickly ushered her and Luna to the stove to help her cook.

“That was easy,” Ron murmured to Harry as they made their way to the table with the other adults sitting there.

“Way fuckin easier than dealing with your siblings,” Harry agreed quietly.

“Bill loves you,” Fleur tsk’d at Harry. “‘E ’as said so ‘imself.”

“They’re just...” Harry glanced towards the back door and lowered his voice so only Fleur could hear him. “They’re always picking on each other, and... I dunno. Families are weird, Fleur.”

“Zey are,” Fleur agreed. She plucked up a biscuit off the table that had been decorated with an icing flower and handed it to Harry. “And every one eez different, my ‘Arry. Bill’s family eez ze oddest one I have met.”

“Cheers then,” Harry grinned. He nibbled on the biscuit as he listened to Fleur talk about wedding stuff for a while. They eventually moved back outside while they were going back and forth on the ‘ideal wedding dinner’ after Shacklebolt arrived and Harry felt like it was a little crammed in the kitchen. Snape and Tonks followed them out, and Tonks jumped in occasionally as Fleur described weddings she’d been to in the past.

“Whatcha talkin’ about darlin?” Fred asked when they joined the ever growing group at the picnic tables. Harry nodded over at Neville, who must have shown up with his Gran at some point.

Neville’s Gran was thankfully wrapped up in a loud argument with Lupin, who also joined the group at some point, about creature rights within the Wizengamot, so Harry didn’t have to speak to her.

“I was telling ‘Arry zat we should ‘ave a double wedding,” Fleur told Fred. “Bill and I ‘ave already paid for most of our costs, so eet would be simple to add you two and your guests.”

“Are you two getting married then?” Neville’s Gran called over to them, looking between Fred and Harry curiously. “Two men? Bah!"

“Zat eez an ignorant zing to say!” Fleur scowled, still looking rather pretty while she did so. She wrapped her arm around Harry’s shoulders and stared the older witch down. “Love eez love. Who cares what eez inside zeir pants? Eet eez no ones business but zeirs!”

“Hear, hear,” Fred laughed.

Neville looked momentarily embarrassed, until he glanced over and saw that Harry looked much more embarrassed, then he cleared his throat and grabbed Blaise’s hand beside him.

“I’m gay,” Neville said baldly.

Which was news to Harry. He glanced at Neville and Blaise’s entwined hands and felt a bit guilty for not spending more time with them before now. He had no idea that Neville and Blaise were together. He glanced at Susan, who usually filled him in on things like that, but she just covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head.

“You told me you were dating that little Hufflepuff girl,” his gran said, glaring a bit at Blaise who pulled Neville closer to his side and propped his chin on his shoulder.

“We broke up,” Neville said. “Blaise and I are dating now. I love him.”

His gran seemed momentarily caught off-guard, but she either gave up her views quickly, which would be pathetic, or realized she was outnumbered as nobody seemed inclined to agree with her, which was also pathetic.

“Well you’re a long ways away from marriage,” she said stiffly.

“I suppose I’ll save my ring for another time,” Blaise sighed with a forlorn look at Neville.

Susan was apparently quite a bit behind on gossip if Blaise already had a ring for Neville.

Draco cleared his throat and lazily began shuffling cards. “Anyone care for a game while we wait to eat?”

Harry happily joined in as most of them started up a complex game of poker that involved fourteen players, two decks of cards, and more rules than Harry could really track.

They had to clear the game away not much later when Sirius and Molly began levitating out platters and Daphne and Luna followed with stacks of plates that Harry quickly helped them carry.

“Well, this is lovely,” Molly said with a quivering smile as everyone finally made it to their seats.

Harry accidentally caught Shacklebolt’s eye and grimaced to himself.

He didn’t think it was very lovely, but he wasn’t going to say that aloud.

“Thank you all for coming,” Molly went on. “I know Arthur would have been- well- he would have loved this.”

And then, in a twist that even Harry saw coming from a mile away, Molly started crying and excused herself after telling everyone else to ‘eat up’. Bill and Ginny excused themselves as well, quickly following their mum in the house.

“One day, I will get even,” Snape whispered to Harry under the stilted and awkward conversations everyone else began as they passed around plates and serving utensils.

Harry nodded a little. “That seems fair,” he whispered back. “This is terrible.”

“Intolerable,” Snape agreed.

“Horrifying.”

“An atrocity.”

“Er... completely barbaric?”

Snape snorted and gave Harry a small smile. “Next year, we will play sick.”

“Deal,” Harry grinned.

It wasn’t too bad, after a while. Molly, Bill, and Ginny came back out, all three of them sporting red rimmed eyes, and the mood lightened a bit. Harry got drug in to a conversation about quidditch with Charlie, who supposedly had an offer to go pro after graduation, and Daphne, who Ron kept staring at with a soppy smile.

Harry was actually just deciding that maybe it wasn’t too terrible spending the day with Fred’s family, when a silver phoenix patronus flew through the yard to Shacklebolt and interrupted the desserts and killed all the conversation.

“Cornelius is dead,” Dumbledore’s voice came through the patronus. “I need you to hurry back to the ministry.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and he shared a horrified look with Susan.

“Son of a bitch,” Tonks swore. She jumped to her feet as quickly as Kingsley did and frowned down at Susan. “Can you stay with Harry and Snape tonight?”

“Of course,” Susan said.

Harry made to jump up too, wanting to find out first hand what happened, but Bill, who was seated next to Harry, kept him in his seat.

“Don’t fuckin touch me,” Harry snarled, ripping his shoulder out of his grip. “Tonks, can I come?”

“No,” Tonks said shortly. “Stay with Susan. I’ll update you when I get back.”

The mood was pretty much shot after Tonks and Kingsley quickly apparated away.

On the one hand, Harry was shocked that Fudge had been killed. It was a real blow for more than just political reasons. Fudge was a terrible minister, but a decent bloke and Harry had come to like him just a bit.

Politically, unless Fudge was replaced with someone who liked using Harry’s fame just as much as he had, it meant Harry no longer had a say in Ministry decisions.

On the other hand, Harry was minutely relieved that he hadn’t been the one to completely ruin Christmas with Fred’s family.

“Molly, I apologize, I should take them home,” Snape said, his eyes flicking towards Harry with a bit of worry in them. “Until we know what happened, I would prefer to not be out in the open.”

“Of course,” Molly said quickly. She glanced around at her own kids and swallowed harshly. “I should... I should get this lot somewhere else.”

“Absolutely,” Snape agreed. “Harry, Theodore, Hermione, Luna, Susan, say your goodbyes quickly.”

“Grimmauld Place,” Bill whispered to Harry. “That’s where Mum will want to take everyone.”

“Brill,” Harry said, nodding in quick understanding.

It made sense— if there had been an attack, or it was an ongoing fight, then Grimmauld Place was almost as secure as Invisibility Way. The difference was, Invisibility Way had Snape as a secret keeper and Grimmauld Place only had Dumbledore. But Harry figured they would all be safe enough there anyway.

“Percy!” Molly suddenly cried, startling everyone who had been quickly gathering their bags and cloaks. “Bill! Percy might be at the ministry!”

“Damn,” Bill swore. “C’mon then.”

And Harry was suddenly the one being apparated away with absolutely no notice.

“If you ever do that again, I’ll fuckin kill you,” Harry told Bill as the two of them landed outside the telephone booth entrance to the Ministry and Bill let go of Harry’s elbow.

“Sorry, mate,” Bill said with an apologetic look. “If I’m charging through the ministry on a rescue mission though, I’d rather have you than Fleur or Charlie.”

“Of course you would,” Harry shrugged as they jogged up to the telephone booth. “I’m powerful and important and Charlie is...” Harry scrunched his nose as he tried to remember the compliment Luna once gave him. “An expert in his field?”

“You’re humility is my favorite thing about you,” Bill chuckled. He squished himself in the corner of the booth so Harry could enter and picked up the phone.

“Bill Weasley, Harry Potter, rescue mission,” Bill quipped to the magical voice that came through the receiver with a wink towards Harry.

“Oh.” Harry had a sudden thought and grinned up at Bill as he handed him a badge that Harry carelessly dropped on the ground. He didn’t think he really needed a badge for everyone in the ministry to know who he was. “Snape’s going to be so pissed.”

“Damn,” Bill swore again. “He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?”

“Probably,” Harry shrugged. “Not my problem though. Oh! Hey, if Snape kills you, d’you mind if Fred and I use your wedding stuff? I didn’t wanna tell your mum, but we were actually planning on getting married this summer, so you ruined it, a bit.”

“And my death wouldn’t ruin it more?” Bill asked as the lift slowed to a stop.

“I mean... maybe?” Harry said, mostly lying. As long as Fred and Harry were alive, he didn’t really think anyone else’s death would ‘ruin’ anything.

Bill laughed loudly and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “I like you, let’s go find Percy, alright?”

Harry grabbed his knife out of his trouser pocket as the doors slid open, unsure what sort of madness they were about to step in to.

“This is anticlimactic,” Bill murmured as they stepped out in to an empty atrium.

“It’s usually packed,” Harry said quietly, his eyes constantly roaming around for possible death eaters. The fact that the atrium was deserted didn’t bode well, in Harry’s opinion. “Where does Percy work?”

“Level one,” Bill said. He pulled his wand out and gave Harry an approving nod at his knife. “C’mon, follow me.”

“Stairs,” Harry hissed at Bill as he approached the lifts. “D’you want to announce our presence with a fuckin loud ding?”

“You’re right,” Bill said, swerving towards the doorway marked ‘emergency stairs’. “See? Charlie wouldn’t have thought of that.”

Harry scoffed quietly as they entered the staircase. He didn’t need Bill to tell him that Harry was more useful in a battle situation than Charlie was, Harry was already well aware.

The two of them creeped up the stairs quickly, but quietly, and Bill held his finger to his lips as he slowly opened the door for level one. Bill poked his head out, his ponytail whipping side to side as he looked down the corridor.

“It’s empty,” he whispered. “Let’s find Percy and get the hell out of here.”

Technically that was only part of Harry’s plan. The main part involved finding out what happened to Fudge. The other part involved killing some death eaters.

But after that? Sure. He’d help find Percy.

“This way,” Bill said, taking the lead since he knew where Percy’s office was. Conveniently, it was also in the direction of the minister’s office, so Harry didn’t need to ditch Bill just yet.

Harry followed Bill’s footsteps on light feet as they made their way through the eerily quiet corridor. Harry knew it was a holiday, but the utter silence of the ministry still put Harry on edge. The two of them made to turn a corner, making steady progress towards the minister’s office, when—

“FREEZE!”

Harry barely got a shield up around the two of them before it was hit with an onslaught of red curses.

“OI! THAT’S HARRY POTTER YOU’RE STUNNING!” Bill yelled, like a fucking idiot. Harry couldn’t see through what he assumed were stunning spells to tell if it was a group of ministry workers or death eaters.

If they were ministry workers, yeah, maybe announcing Harry’s name would work.

If they were death eaters, then Harry hoped Bill was ready to fight like hell.

“God damnit, quit!” someone, Tonks, Harry was pretty sure, yelled. Harry didn’t drop the shield, but he did squint through it to see who exactly had surrounded them.

It took a second of looking over the unfamiliar and grim faces before Harry landed on Johnny, then Tonks a few people over.

Not death eaters then. Or, at least not all death eaters. Tonks said that imperio was a constant threat in the aurors department, and without Draco’s dad to report, Harry couldn’t be certain who all was or wasn’t working for Timmy.

Except for his people, obviously.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tonks demanded, glaring at Harry through the shield that he certainly wouldn’t be dropping when surrounded by cops.

“Finding my brother,” Bill said, speaking just as firmly as Tonks had. “Percy Weasley, is he here?”

“I think he’s in his office, Bill,” a witch with a pointed blue hat on said. “We told everyone to stay in their offices while we did a floor by floor sweep.”

“Why?” Harry asked quickly. “Was the attack here?”

“No,” Tonks said shortly. “Go home, Harry.”

“Nah, I’ve gotta find Percy first,” Harry said. He glanced quickly at Johnny before thoughtfully adding, “Maybe we could get someone to escort us to his office? So you don’t try and fucking stun me again?”

“I’ll do it,” Johnny offered after a beat. “I don’t mind.”

Tonks narrowed her eyes at Harry, her hair flashed a dark red for a moment, before she sighed and her hair went back to pink. “Abbott, escort Harry and Bill to Percy’s office then escort all three of them out of the ministry,” she said with a stern look that Harry rolled his eyes at.

Honestly, Tonks was much more fun when she wasn’t working. Tonks who irritated Snape with Harry was alright. Tonks who was a fuckin cop was annoying.

“Brill,” Harry said smugly. He dispelled his shield and gave Johnny a small smirk. “Lead the way then, mate.”

Johnny smirked back and turned so that Harry and Bill could step in front of him. Harry had barely taken three steps away from the group of the other DMLE staff before he heard someone whisper:

“That’s Harry Potter? Bit of a dick, isn’t he?”

“Don’t,” Johnny murmured, correctly guessing at Harry’s intentions as he clenched his hand tightly. “Not worth it under the new Head. He’s very pro ‘Azkaban first, questions second’.”

“What happened?” Harry asked him quietly as they slowly made their way to Percy’s office.

“The Minister is dead,” Johnny said bluntly.

“We know that,” said Bill. “What exactly happened?”

“Not sure of all the details yet, but it looked like an attack at his house. Wife and kids are dead too.”

Harry paused in the middle of the corridor and blinked at Johnny. “Fudge had kids?!” he hissed.

How had Harry spent so much time with Fudge and never known he had a whole family? There had been a picture of Fudge and a group of people that could possibly have been his family on his desk, but he had a picture of him and Harry on his desk too, so how was he supposed to know the other photo was his family?

“Three of them,” Johnny said with a frown. “Little granddaughter too. All dead.”

“That’s terrible,” Bill said, sounding truly mournful.

“That’s... terrible,” Harry echoed Bill after a moment. “Fuck.”

“Dark mark over the house, then?” Bill asked.

“Yep. Two dead families in the muggle town a few miles from him too. We’ve got half our people over there dealing with that, the other half here doing a sweep.”

“Why the sweep here?” Harry asked curiously.

“Thicknesse,” Johnny said with a scowl that explained what he thought of his new boss. “He said it could be a ‘ruse to divert our attention, leaving the ministry open for an attack’.”

“That makes sense,” Bill said while Harry nodded in agreement.

Johnny glanced around and pulled Bill and Harry in to a doorway before casting a few nonverbal muffling and privacy charms.

“I meant to try and get a message to you sooner, but I think Thicknesse works for Timmy,” Johnny whispered quickly to Harry. “Could be imperio, could be his own free will. I don’t have any proof, but something stinks about him.”

Bill looked skeptical, but Harry trusted Johnny’s instinct. If he thought Thicknesse wasn’t to be trusted, then he probably had a good reason for it.

“Keep an eye out, and watch your back,” Harry murmured. “Quit if it gets too hot, yeah? I’ll find a different job for you, don’t worry about money.”

Harry could afford to pay Johnny for some private work of some sort. He couldn’t afford to lose a member of the gang.

“Cheers, mate,” Johnny winked. “Come on then, let’s find your future brother in law and get you out of here before I actually get fired.”

Johnny dispelled his charms and seemed to pick up the pace a little as they made their way towards Percy’s office.

“How’s Susan doing?” he asked casually. “I wrote her, after Madame Bones died, but I haven’t heard back from her.”

“Bit sad,” Harry said. “Still Susan though, ya know?”

“Tell her I miss her, will you?” Johnny asked him with a grin. “Maybe I’ll pop by next Hogsmeade weekend.”

“Maybe you won’t,” Bill said with a smile that didn’t seem very friendly. “Susan’s seeing someone, isn’t she, Harry? Big bloke, powerful, jealous.”

“Is she?” Harry asked, shocked. He thought Susan fancied Charlie.

Jesus Christ. He really needed to pay more attention to his friends’ lives apparently.

First Neville and Blaise, now Susan and some powerful bloke.

Bill rolled his eyes at Harry, but didn’t say anything more as they approached Percy’s door.

“I’ll just wait out here,” Johnny drawled with a sideways glance towards the posh little plaque on Percy’s door. “Holler if you need me.”

Harry snorted and threw Percy’s door open, hoping to scare him a bit. Which he did. Percy jumped from a dark wooden chair behind a large polished desk and screamed as Harry and Bill stepped in his office.

“Bill?” Percy pushed his glasses on his nose then turned his bewildered gaze on Harry. “And Harry?”

“Hey, Perky,” Harry said with a cold smile. “Your mum sent us.”

“My Mum? Why?” Percy asked.

“No idea,” Harry shrugged.

Bill stepped forward hastily and gave his brother a friendly smile. “She was worried about you, why don’t you come to the Burrow with me so she can see you’re alright?”

“I...” Percy glanced down at the paperwork on his desk then back up to his brother. “I can’t, I have a lot to do...”

“Is it more important than your family?” Bill asked softly. “It’s Christmas Eve, Percy, Mum misses you. She’s terrified now. Please?”

Percy looked torn as he glanced between his desk and Bill. Harry rolled his eyes, Percy was such a bloody swot.

“Your mum made you a fuckin sweater,” Harry told him. “You’re really going to ignore it? Fudge’s entire family died today. Susan’s aunt died last month. Your dad last year. You wanna spend Christmas at your desk or with the family you’ve got left?”

“Uh, not my desk,” Percy said quietly. He quickly stuffed a bunch of parchments in a briefcase and nodded towards Bill. “Of course I’ll come, if mum wants me there.”

“She does,” Bill said. He beamed at Harry and clapped his shoulder again. “Alright, let’s get out here, eh?”

Harry, Bill, and Percy let Johnny lead them through the ministry back to the lift that would take them to the phone booth and Harry spent the time watching Percy cower and cringe around every corner with nothing short of amusement written all over his face.

“How did you make it to Gryffindor?” Harry asked once the three of them were in the lift together. “You’re not very brave, or chivalrous.”

“That is none of your business,” Percy said pompously with his nose in the air.

“So you asked for Gryffindor?” Harry guessed with a grin. “Let me guess, the hat suggested Ravenclaw?”

Percy didn’t answer, but his red cheeks were basically an answer anyway.

Bill chuckled and eyed Harry speculatively once they spilled out of the phone booth on to the street. “Am I taking you home?” he asked.

“Nah,” Harry shrugged and pocketed his knife. “I’ll get home. Ta, Bill. Later, Perky.”

Percy was muttering the correct pronunciation of his name as Harry spun on the spot and went home.

When Harry landed back on his own front yard, Theo stood on the stairs to the porch and grinned wryly at Harry.

“Did you ask Bill to take you?” he asked.

“Nope. Lucky break, I guess.”

“Good luck convincing Snape of that,” Theo told him, glancing over his shoulder towards the house. “He’s mad as hell.”

Harry glanced towards the same direction Theo was a bit uneasily now. “Er... how mad?”

“He’s definitely going to scream, and he might throw something,” Theo said. “Probably not at you, but he’s going to throw things.”

“Fuck.” Harry stuck his hand in his pocket and gripped his pocketknife tightly.

Theo gave him a sympathetic look. “I’ll go with you,” he offered.

“It’ll be fine,” Harry sighed. Theo stepped up beside him as he entered the house anyway, which Harry was only a little grateful for.

All in all, it could have been worse.

Snape threw a book, but he threw it at the wall opposite Harry. He did yell quite a bit, but Bill did Harry a real favor when he sent a patronus midway through Snape’s tirade apologizing for ‘stealing Harry’. Snape looked skeptical, as if Harry also orchestrated that, but it did take a bit of the sting from his tone.

“Today was rough,” Theo murmured when the two of them finally were able to leave the sitting room and head up to their bedroom.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Harry disagreed. “I nearly got in to a duel with about a dozen aurors, that would have been brill, yeah?”

“No,” Theo sighed, shaking his head. “That would have been not ‘brill’ at all. Idiot.”

Theo was wrong.

Nearly getting in to a full on fight with the aurors at the ministry had been the only highlight in Harry’s shitty day. Well, also that Snape thought he was punishing Harry by refusing to allow him to go to Slughorn’s posh little Christmas party on the 26th.

Harry pretended to be put out about it, but honestly he was relieved.

“He probably did that on purpose, to apologize for yelling at you,” Fred murmured when he finally came home that night and Harry filled him in on their change of plans.

Harry hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe,” he conceded. “Hey, Bill stole our wedding date, I thought you were going to tell them we wanted August first?”

“I forgot,” Fred admitted. “You probably don’t want a double thing with Bill and Fleur, do you?”

“Not really.”

Fred sighed dramatically and looked up to the ceiling. “Good, good. Yeah, mum’s going to love this.”

Harry smirked and moved closer to Fred, dropping his head on his chest. “That’s your problem,” he said unsympathetically. He thought about his chaotic day and suddenly remembered something. “Oh, hey, did you know Susan’s got a boyfriend?”

Harry had no idea why Fred found the story Harry told him, explaining how the topic of Susan’s boyfriend came up on a rescue mission at the ministry, so funny, but he just laughed and kissed Harry on the top of the head.

“I love you,” he said warmly. “Merry Christmas, darlin.”

The rest of Christmas break passed by quietly, and much less eventfully than the 24th had anyway.

Harry and the other inhabitants of his house had a simple meal together on Christmas night. They spent New Years at Harry’s place with Tonks and Susan, all of them staying up well past midnight as they played cards and relaxed.

Snape even pretended not to notice Harry, Susan, and Draco sneaking drinks of a bottle of some sort of liquor that the Contessa sent Harry for Christmas in their goblets.

By the time they were ready to return to Hogwarts, despite the bad luck in losing the Minister and the subsequent appointment of a bloke named Rufus Scrimgeour that used to be Head Auror, Harry actually felt loads more relaxed than he had before the break. Not so cold, not so weighed down by everything anymore.

“I’ve got a good feeling about the rest of the year,” he told Luna cheerfully before they floo’d back to Snape’s office at Hogwarts together.

Luna hummed and fluttered her hand a bit at her side as she stared in the green flames. “I don’t,” she said quietly. “I don’t feel good about it at all.”

Which dashed Harry’s optimism pretty quickly.

Chapter Text

The Elder Wand.

The Resurrection Stone.

Death’s Cloak of Invisibility.

Three items that, when owned by a single master, shielded the master from Death itself.

A fairytale, perhaps.

Certainly a story told as fiction to children.

A tale of morality, a tale of not toiling in to unknown magic.

Only a fairytale.

Severus was not so similarly convinced.

Thursday, January 8

Since the night that Nymphadora introduced Severus to the tale that inspired the image Albus once drew on a letter to Gellert Grindewald, Severus had dedicated almost every waking hour to researching the lore behind it all.

He became a man obsessed. A dying man grasping on to a straw as intangible as smoke. The concept taunted Severus, and danced out of his reach as he stretched a hand out to snag it.

The Hallows.

The elder wand; gifted to the eldest brother. Unbeatable. Can only be passed on through murder.

The resurrection stone; gifted to the middle brother. It carried the ability to bring back the dead, but only in an incorporeal appearance.

And Death’s cloak of invisibility. Infallible. Sensible. Protects the wearer from Death itself.

They sounded absurd, fantastical even for the fantasy world Severus resides in with flying broomsticks, dragons, and brave boys with swords, and yet...

Yet something about Harry’s cloak continued to niggle at Severus’ mind.

Had Albus not given Harry the cloak that once belonged to James? Why did Albus even have the cloak? Would it not have been better served with the Potter family? Perhaps James could have hidden his son beneath it when the Dark Lord arrived.

It sounded like something the adult James Potter would have done; handed the cloak to Lily and told her to hide herself and Harry beneath it. With a few silencing charms and quick use of a broomstick, which James certainly would have owned, at least two thirds of the family could have escaped that night.

So why did Albus have it?

Severus finally cracked and sent Harry a patronus, asking him to come to his office after his classes ended. Hopefully, Harry would have his cloak. If not, he would undoubtedly be able to summon it.

Arrogant brat.

When Harry arrived though, he did not appear to be in a pleasant mood, which did not bode well for Severus’ obscure request he hoped to make to examine his Invisibility Cloak.

“I’ve only got maybe ten minutes,” Harry scowled, throwing himself in the chair across from Severus at his desk. “I’ve got fuckin detention tonight.”

“Do you?” Severus asked, surprised. Typically the other professors made a habit of informing Severus when Harry received detention. They were rare occurrences, yet appreciated by Severus all the same. The only one who had ever assigned Harry a detention without telling Severus had been...

“Sirius gave me detention,” Harry said, sneering his godfather’s name. “I bloody well forgot about it until Monday when he reminded me, in class, in front of everyone, that I had detention all week.”

“Whatever for?” Outwardly, Severus was indignant on Harry’s behalf at Black assigning him detention and embarrassing him by the reminder in front of his classmates. Inwardly though? Severus smirked and laughed to know that Black could never replace Severus in Harry’s life, as much as he had once worried he would.

“Did- did he not tell you?” Harry asked slowly, suddenly ducking his head bashfully and peering at Severus through his fringe. “I thought... I thought he might?”

“He did not,” Severus told him, quite curious now as to what Harry had done that was causing him to become so reticent when he typically had no qualms with bragging about his misdeeds to Severus.

“Er...” Harry chewed his lower lip in the disgusting way that Severus finally conceded on ever correcting in him. “Well... you remember that day I took Felix Felicis?”

How could Severus forget the day that apparently some off-handed comment of Harry’s led Nymphadora to...

Well.

Somehow Harry’s luck led Nymphadora to Severus’ rooms where they renegotiated the terms of their friendship. And by that, Severus meant that Nymphadora told him in no uncertain terms that he was ‘stuck with her’ and he ‘better get used to it’.

Which he had shockingly been doing.

Nymphadora was... persistent. And, as she said, such a show of persistence should be rewarded. If Nymphadora believed an adequate reward was a nearly thirty-six year old dungeon bat, then that was her problem, he supposed. He had attempted to warn her away, but the stubborn witch refused to see reason and Severus gave in to her advances. And it had not been unpleasant, so far. Severus believed that eventually Nymphadora would find a more suitable partner, and they would part ways, and it would perhaps be painful, but Severus was surely not someone Nymphadora envisioned a whole life with.

If Severus had a whole life ahead of him. Which, with the quest of the Hallows before him, he began to believe (foolishly and desperately hoped and prayed) that he did.

“I do,” he answered Harry, focusing on the task at hand. “How did you manage to earn a weeks worth of detentions while you were the luckiest person in the castle?”

“I got them the morning after,” Harry said. “I... er... well, I didn’t stay at Hogwarts that night, exactly, I stayed with Fred at George’s flat... and Sirius was a bit peeved over it, and then I might have said that I... shagged Fred.”

Severus was suddenly struck with dual emotions quite strongly.

Irritated that the Brat-Who-Lived-To-Give-Severus-Heart-Failure had snuck out of the castle, illegally apparated himself to Diagon Alley, and had not bothered to even inform Severus that he had left. Even though there was an active war going on and Harry had a price on his head from both sides.

But also... Severus was pleased, in a peculiar way, that Harry had overcome that particular trauma in his life. Truthfully, Severus had worried that, despite Frederick’s words stating otherwise, that the two of them would eventually separate due to Harry’s sexual dysfunctions. Yet, it seemed as if—

“Wait- he what?!” Severus demanded, suddenly murderously furious with Frederick. “He had intercourse with you while you were obviously incapacitated?!”

Severus would kill him.

He would snap the boy’s neck and toss him in a pit, never to be found.

“What? No!” Harry said quickly, shaking his head in denial. “I mean, er... I wanted to, but then Fred found out I had taken that potion and he... er... turned me down... until the next morning... when I wasn’t high.”

Oh.

Severus might still kill him anyway. Frederick could be quite irksome at times.

“Just to be absolutely clear, Harry, you consumed three times the normal portion of Felix Felicis and the ultimate goal it led you to was sex?” Severus asked skeptically.

Harry grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Guess so,” he said.

As chaotic as Harry was, as wrapped up and centrally located in a war as Harry was, it was oftentimes difficult to remember he was still a sixteen year old young man. Until moments such as that.

“Absurd,” Severus told him. “You are truly absurd, child.”

“Absurd and going to be late for detention,” Harry glanced at his wristwatch. “Unless you could get me out of it?” he asked hopefully.

“I would not even if I could,” Severus smirked. He was surprised, though not displeased, that Black punished Harry for his antics. Severus had been soft on Harry recently, overlooking his behavior as he preemptively mourned him. It was a small relief that someone else had picked up Severus’ slack. “You deserved it,” he told Harry truthfully. “I would have assigned much more than one week of detentions.”

He wouldn’t have. He should have, but Harry had a true knack for evading discipline from Severus through blatant favoritism.

A small measure of unfairness to balance all the unfairness that had been poured on the child’s head since birth.

“Bastard,” Harry scowled. He got to his feet and cocked his head at Severus. “Did you want something specific? Or just to hang out?”

“Something specific,” Severus said. He had nearly forgotten his quest to inspect Harry’s cloak until now in the face of Harry’s admission. “Your invisibility cloak, if you would not mind loaning it to me for a short amount of time.”

“Why?” Harry asked, instantly wary. “I need it.”

“I would like to inspect it, I believe it could be quite valuable,” Severus said smoothly, not a single lie in his words. “You have my word, Harry, that I will return it to you.”

Harry reached in to his backpack and hesitantly pulled out his cherished heirloom. “You’ll give it back? You aren’t taking it cause you’re mad about something?”

“I am not mad, and I will return it the moment I am finished with it,” Severus assured him.

“‘Kay... here.” Harry handed him the silk woven purple cloak and then glanced at his watch again. “I gotta go, I’ll see you Sunday?”

“Sunday,” Severus agreed. “Have fun in detention.”

Harry scowled again, causing Severus to chuckle a little, then quickly dashed off.

And Severus was left with a sense of pride so strong he nearly choked on it.

There had been a day, not so long ago, that Harry would have required nothing short of an Unbreakable Vow before he would leave a cherished possession with Severus. But not now. Now he trusted Severus when he told him he would return it.

Harry had grown and matured so much.

And, Severus slid the cloak between his fingers thoughtfully, perhaps he could continue to do so despite all odds.

Severus retired to his quarters to study Harry’s cloak more carefully. At first glance, the cloak held no specific uniqueness that would indicate it to be such a powerful object. An adult sized cloak, roughly the size and shape of a large bed sheet. The material was purple, with interwoven strands of silver to give it a shimmering appearance. It seemed to be made of a fine silk, softer and more sturdy than even acromantula silk.

It was undoubtedly expensive, possibly entirely priceless, but it was not the material itself that made it so. It was the power it held that Severus had never questioned before.

Invisibility cloaks, even ones that cost more than the newest broomstick on the market, had a tendency to fade in their power after a time. Severus had never known of one to still offer entirely invisible properties after a decade or so, and yet this one was supposedly James Potter’s before it was Harry’s.

Where did James receive it from?

Severus moved the cloak out of sight and quickly ducked his head in his floo before he could change his mind.

“Remus Lupin’s office, Moon Lodge.”

It took the wolf only a moment to notice Severus’ head in his fire and to approach his floo with a quizzical expression.

“Severus? Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Severus said curtly. “James Potter, he owned an Invisibility Cloak, correct? A purple silk one?”

“Yes?” Lupin said slowly. “Why?”

“Never mind that,” Severus snapped. “Where did he receive it from?”

Lupin rubbed the scruff on his chin thoughtfully as his eyes went unfocused. “Hmm... I think he said he got it from his father, Fleamont, who got it from his father before him. James said, after Harry was born, that it was a family tradition to pass it from father from son.”

Not only had James had it since his childhood, likely over twenty years ago, but it had been in his family for at least a hundred years?

There had never been a cloak such as that in existence.

Severus’ sense of excitement grew. “Do you know where they originally got it from?” he asked quickly. “Did they purchase it somewhere? Or did one of them create it?”

Fleamont had been an inventor, of sorts. It would not be entirely unfathomable that one of his ancestors carried his same ingenuity and dove in to the depths of magic to pull out such a one of a kind item.

“I don’t know,” Lupin said with an apologetic frown. “I just know it’s a very old Potter family heirloom. I doubt if James even knows of where they first got it from, he didn’t see much value in it past using it for pranks, you know.”

Yes. Severus was quite aware now of what invisible entity within the castle once followed him around hexing him.

“I am aware,” he said tartly, sour at the memory. “If you remember anything else about the cloak, will you reach out to me in a discreet method?”

“Of course,” Lupin agreed with an easy smile. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why you’re so interested in it, will you?”

“I will not. Good day.”

Severus left Lupin with a bemused expression as he abruptly pulled his head from the fire.

Hundreds of years.

Severus plucked the cloak back up and threw it over his body. He conjured a mirror and stared at his entirely invisible reflection.

Such a cloak had never existed. Ever.

“This is it,” he whispered to himself wondrously. He would do his due diligence in verifying the cloaks origins, but he had a instinctive feeling that Harry had been unknowingly carrying around Death’s Cloak for years now. “One hallow down.”

Two to go.

“Severus! What a surprise!” Minerva smiled when Severus arrived unannounced at her quarters later that night with a bottle of apology brandy. “Come in, how are you?”

“I’m well,” Severus said, truthfully for the first time in nearly six months. “How are you?”

“Much better now,” Minerva said as she gestured for Severus to sit. “I’ve missed our get togethers, I assumed you had replaced my company with Nymphadora.”

“Hardly,” Severus scoffed, smoothing his robes beneath him as he sat on Minerva’s ghastly floral sofa. “You are my friend, Nymphadora is my...”

“Girlfriend,” Minerva said with a sly grin as she poured them each a glass of brandy.

Severus cleared his throat and prevented a blush from rising in his face through sheer willpower. “Quite.”

“I knew you would see sense eventually,” Minerva said with a small chuckle. She brought Severus a drink and sat at the opposite chair from him. “Tell me how it came to be? I assumed poor Nymphadora would have to chase you for years.”

“Potter luck,” Severus said simply. He raised his glass towards Minerva, “It is apparently contagious.”

“Apparently,” Minerva agreed with a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. She took a long drink of the brandy and smiled affably towards Severus. “So, what brings you by tonight?”

“Fleamont Potter,” Severus said, appreciating Minerva’s ability to cut to the chase. “You knew him, did you not?”

“I did,” Minerva said. “He had been a few years older than I, but we grew up in the same village before he married Euphemia and moved to Godric’s Hallow. A lovely man, intelligent and insightful. Why the sudden interest?”

“It is for a project, for Harry, that I am working on,” Severus said, not quite lying. “The child knows nothing of his family tree, and I thought perhaps I could find some ancestors of interest for him.”

“Is that so?” Minerva hummed, taking a drink of her brandy and eyeing Severus speculatively over her glasses. “You were rather close with Lily, I assume you know quite a bit about her family?”

“I do,” Severus agreed. He stretched out on the sofa casually, adopting an air of near disinterest. “However, I know nothing of James’ family and Harry has become rather despondent with the topic of his mother.”

“Despondent about Lily? Why?” Minerva asked sharply. “What could she possibly have done to cause that?”

Severus considered the small tidbits of information that Harry had shared about his belief that his mother would have come to hate him, rather than cherish his every breath.

“Apparently, Horace has painted Lily as a saint,” Severus said, irritation for Horace’s lack of decorum twisting his features. “As such, Harry believes that Lily would hate him, and will not accept any assurances otherwise. Thus, I thought perhaps he may find James’ more... colorful family to be of interest.”

Minerva snorted lightly and shook her head. “Lily would be wielding a knife alongside her son and we both know it,” she said. “That girl may have appeared a saint, and Morgana knows she died as one, but Harry carries on her fiery spirit in his every action.”

Severus inclined his head in agreement. Lily had strong morals, nerves of steel, and a rather black and white view of the world- but he knew in every fiber of his body that she would break her own morals to assist Harry in burning the world to ash if she knew what all he had faced in his short life.

Harry thought she would hate him? Hardly.

Lily would adore her chaotic monster of a son as much as she adored her mischievous oaf of a husband.

“A topic I plan to revisit with him, in due time,” Severus said lightly. “I suppose you don’t know much about Fleamont’s family line then?”

“Only a bit, I’m afraid,” Minerva said. She finished off her glass of brandy and moved to her cluttered and overly stuffed bookcase. “Let’s see here... Fleamont’s father, Harry’s great-grandfather, was Charlus Potter, and he had the book on his fireplace. You couldn’t visit his home without seeing it, and it is... Aha!” Minerva plucked a thick, red leather bound, tomb from her shelf and wandlessly levitated it to Severus. Severus wiped the thick dust from the cover and raised his brows with interest at the title, The Sacred Twenty-Eight.

As easy as it was for half-bloods and muggleborns to scoff at the lack of knowledge that purebloods held about muggle life, it was quite the reminder that it could occasionally be a two-way street. Severus had never considered the fact that the Potter line would have been recorded alongside the other pureblood families.

He simply could have went to the library and skipped this conversation entirely. Although, truthfully, Severus had sorely missed Minerva recently as he hid himself away and drowned his grief in research.

“I believe that Fleamont and Euphemia were the last of the line listed, as James ‘tarnished’ the line by marrying Lily, but you should be able to track the Potter’s centuries back in there,” Minerva said, resuming her seat. “I didn’t have much interaction with Charlus, though I do have plenty of stories about Fleamont, if you’d like.”

In for a knut, in for a galleon, he supposed.

“Certainly,” Severus agreed. He summoned Minerva’s chessboard from her window side table and raised a challenging brow. “Perhaps over a game?”

“I have missed you,” Minerva said with a true smile. She summoned the bottle of brandy and set it on the table beside the chessboard. “Now, Fleamont was a polite boy, but he was also a terrible troublemaker. You tell Harry about the time he accidentally jinxed my father’s hens to be infertile...”

Listening to Minerva share stories of Harry’s paternal grandfather while they played a game of chess and shared the bottle of brandy was a small price to pay for the book.

Even if Fleamont sounded remarkably like James and Severus was quite sure that he would have disliked the man immensely.

“It’s... it’s definitely unique,” Nymphadora said on Saturday afternoon after Severus shared with her all that he had discovered about Harry’s cloak. She examined the material closely and even squinted at it through one eye. “I just... I don’t know, Sev, do you really think the Hallows are real?”

“How many invisibility cloaks do you know of that have lasted centuries without becoming useless?” Severus asked her. “I know of one.”

“Yeah... yeah, I mean, you’re right,” she said slowly, carefully handing Severus back the cloak. “This could be the cloak, and we know that there’s a powerful wand in history made of elder, but a resurrection stone? Do you really think it’s possible to bring back the dead?”

“Is it any more unlikely than a stone that gave everlasting life?” Severus asked her, pacing in front of the sofa she sat on while he thought aloud. “Is it any more unreasonable than a man storing pieces of his soul in objects? More fantastical than a man storing a piece of his soul within a body that holds its own soul? This is all lore, Nymphadora. None of this is based in facts, or logic.”

“Right... I agree with you there,” she said. “So are we willing to risk Harry’s life on elements based heavily in fantasy and fiction?”

Severus paused his pacing long enough to give Nymphadora a derisive scoff. “According to muggles, we are fantasy.” Severus nearly smiled as he recalled something Harry once spewed at him in a manic rant. “We’re magic, Nymphadora. We can do anything we want. I believe basilisk venom is the key to curing cancer. Broomsticks can fly. Your cousin can turn in to a dog. Why shouldn’t a fictional tale hold the secrets to saving a boy from an unimaginable scenario?”

Nymphadora still looked skeptical, but a reasonable amount of skepticism was helpful. Severus knew, logically, that he was desperate to find a way to save Harry. He wanted the child to live, more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, perhaps more than anyone in history had ever wanted anything. This bone-deep desire could lead Severus to lie to himself.

If Nymphadora had to bring forth logic and counter his arguments with skepticism, so the better. A counter-argument could only strengthen the original argument.

“And, look here.” Severus summoned the book Minerva lent him from his bedside table and flipped it open. He pulled out the parchment he had taken careful notes on and read it aloud to her. “Fleamont was born to Charlus Potter. Charlus Potter was born to Henry Potter, who was orphaned and adopted at a young age and whose biological father was known to be Edward Peverell, grandson of Ignotus Peverell.”

Nymphadora blinked and then her face softened as she looked up from the book Severus thrust at her to his face. “You haven’t been sleeping,” she said. She gently traced the bags beneath his eyes and gave him a sympathetic smile that was quite out of place in the moment. “Why don’t you go rest and we can look at this with fresh eyes in the morning?”

Severus had not been sleeping. Severus had spent his entire night Thursday night, his entire day Friday, and the majority of Friday night in the library beneath Harry’s cloak as he shamelessly overused Pepper-Up Potions and pursued every book available on ancestry and notable wizards, creating an adequate and logical family tree dating back to the year 1218.

“Do not patronize me,” Severus snapped, pulling the book away and tossing it on the sofa alongside Harry’s cloak. “I am trying to tell you that it all fits. All of it.”

“All of what?” Nymphadora asked, raising her voice to match Severus’. “Who cares who Harry’s great-great-great-whatever was? How does that help us keep him alive?”

Severus ignored her agitated tone in favor of relishing in her use of the phrase ‘help us keep him alive’. How long had it been since Severus felt as if he had an equal to work with? Someone determined to assist him in reaching his goals for no ulterior motive than because they knew the goals were important to Severus?

Had he ever had such a person before?

“Ignotus Peverell had two brothers,” Severus said, attempting to temper his own tone. “Antioch and Cadmus—”

“Daft names,” Nymphadora snorted.

“Indeed,” he smiled slightly. “Cadmus had a single heir, an unacknowledged bastard, before he killed himself. Damon, who also had a single son, Salazar.”

“So... Salazar Slytherin is the grandson of Cadmus Peverell,” Nymphadora said, “and that helps how...?”

“Wait please,” Severus said patiently. “Salazar fathered the Gaunt line, an extinct line that ends with Morfin and Merope. And Merope was—”

“Voldemort’s mother,” Nymphadora gasped. “So Harry and Voldemort are cousins, distantly?”

Dear Lord. Never let Harry hear such a thing.

“Of a sort,” Severus grimaced. “Though that is not the point I am attempting to make. The eldest Peverell brother, Antioch, was killed in a duel in Germany, leaving behind a wife and six sons. One of those sons became the great-grandfather to a well-known wand maker, Mykew Gregorovitch.”

“Great,” Nymphadora said, clapping her hands together brightly. “Well, I feel really well-informed about bloody ancient ancestry. Now, should we focus on Harry or can we have a drink?”

“It is all one and the same topic,” Severus said. He flicked his wand and summoned a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Help yourself,” he told her. “And I will explain.”

“Sev.” Nymphadora held up the bottle Severus sent to her with a queer look on her face. “Where’d you get this?”

Severus flicked his eyes absently over the French label and furrowed his brows. “I ordered it,” he told her, unsure why it was relevant in the face of an unprecedented breakthrough in their crusade to save Harry’s life. “Or, rather, I asked Narcissa to order a few bottles of it over the summer,” he amended himself. “My French is hardly up to par with hers.”

“Why?” Nymphadora asked. “You don’t really drink wine?”

“I...” Severus trailed off in confusion and his furrow grew. “You like it, do you not? You said it was a brand you enjoyed?”

She had said that, Severus was certain of it. She mentioned it during one of the times she had spent loitering in his office last year. Severus had offered her a glass of scotch and she sighed and said she missed the wine in France she drank during a mission once, specifically the Cote de Nuits.

“I do,” Nymphadora said, a small smile blooming on her lips. “Just to be clear here, I mentioned liking a particular brand of wine, and not only did you remember it, but you had Narcissa order it over the summer so you could keep it in stock here?”

“Yes?”

Had Severus been speaking in riddles? Was that not what he just said?

Perhaps Nymphadora was the one going without adequate sleep.

“Just checking,” she said with an expression torn between a smirk and a smile. She poured two glasses and placed Severus’ on the small table and tucked her feet beneath herself on the sofa as she took a small sip. “Go on, then. Let’s here your theory on how ancient ancestry proves the existence of items gifted by death.”

Severus gave her a puzzled frown at her odd line of questioning, but quickly appeased her request.

“Think about it, connect the lines for yourself. The Peverell brothers were noted as extraordinarily powerful wizards. Stronger than Merlin, even. There are hundreds of spells, potions, even creatures that they were credited with creating. I doubt if ‘Death’ gifted these items to them, but what if they created them, Nymphadora? Flamel created a stone giving everlasting life, I do not find it unlikely that Cadmus created a stone that brought back a spirit from the afterlife.”

“Wait- why Cadmus?” Nymphadora interrupted him. “Why do you think Cadmus created it?”

“Because it all fits,” Severus stressed. “The eldest brother created the most powerful wand in known history, his descendant carried the tradition on in his own powerful wand-making skills. Cadmus created a stone to bring back the dead, his descendant tore apart his soul in an effort to avoid death.”

“And Ignotus created a cloak so his descendant could one day sneak around school and shag his fiancé,” Nymphadora nodded solemnly. “You’re right, Sev, it all fits.”

Severus sighed—

Heavily

—and shook his head in exasperation.

“You are incredibly irritating,” he told her with only a small hint of fondness. He stopped his erratic pacing and sat on the sofa beside her and grabbed his own drink. “Does it truly sound unbelievable?”

Nymphadora sighed and scooted closer to him, slowly laying her head on his shoulder. “It sounds like a mad and desperate idea to grasp on to,” she said softly. “But... but we live in mad and desperate times, don’t we? And there does seem to be some credible ideas within the mix there.”

If Nymphadora believed that there was a chance, however small, that this could be the path they needed to pursue, then Severus felt incrementally more sane.

“I am going to go to Austria,” Severus said. “I need to speak to Grindewald.”

“What?!” Nymphadora sat up and stared at Severus with shock that brought the topic of his sanity back in to question. “Why would you do that?”

“They were researching the Hallows,” Severus explained, “Grindewald and Albus. I’m certain it was why Albus had possession of the cloak the night the Potters were attacked. What if they found another one, Nymphadora? What if Grindewald knows where one, or even both, of the others are? Harry needs all three.”

Harry needed to become the Master of Death, as partially horrifying as the thought was. Severus was certain that the Master of Death would have the ability to outlast the death that would be required to evict the horcrux within his body.

Severus needed it to be true because he needed Harry to live.

No entity on earth deserved to live their life as much as Harry did.

“You can’t just waltz in to Nurmengard and speak to Gellert Grindewald,” Nymphadora hissed. “Merlin, Sev. Even aurors don’t have that kind of privilege.”

“Do aurors have Death’s Cloak of Invisibility?” Severus asked calmly.

Nymphadora seemed caught off guard for a moment before she quickly rallied. “No, but you don’t need to go putting yourself on an international watchlist by breaking into Nurmengard either,” she said. “Is there a way to ask Albus about it? See if he knows anything?”

“Albus would never tell me if he did,” Severus scowled. “He has yet to tell me about the horcrux within Harry. Albus has his own plans on how to end the war, and he has kept those plans rather close to his chest.”

Nymphadora clacked her teeth on the side of her glass while she gazed off at the wall, lost in thought.

It was quite distracting- her nibbling on the glass.

But Severus would not allow it to distract him from his current goal. Not at present. There was too much at stake, everything at stake, to act as a besotted schoolboy.

“Gregorovitch,” Nymphadora said suddenly, causing Severus to twitch guiltily at the way he had been quite rudely staring at her teeth and lips wrapped around her glass. “We might have the cloak, so we need the stone and the wand, right? Gregorovitch is still alive. Let’s go ask him about the Elder Wand. That one, at least, sounds reasonably simple to track. The Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, those wands were all made of elder. It could be the same wand with different names popping up through history.”

“Would it not be simpler to ask Grindewald what he knows?”

“Simpler? Maybe,” Nymphadora scoffed. “If by simpler you mean hoping he tells us the truth, hoping he knows anything at all, oh and hoping we don’t get caught, questioned by the International Confederation of Wizards on why we were in Nurmengard in the first place. But yeah,” she paused to take a sip of her wine, “that sounds much simpler than an innocent sightseeing trip to Germany where we happen to stop and speak with a world-renown wandmaker.”

Severus raised his brows high as she turned a challenging and impudent look towards him. “I believe you could have said that without the additional cheek.”

“I could have,” she agreed, smiling outright and tilting her head conspiratorially towards his. “But where’s the fun in that?” she whispered with a wink.

“Where indeed?” Severus murmured, momentarily distracted by the deep violet color of her irises.

Focus.

“Ahem.” Severus cleared his throat and shifted away slightly. “Then I will go to Germany first, see what Gregorovitch knows.”

“Orrrrr... I can just go,” Nymphadora said slowly and thoughtfully. “I doubt you want to leave the country with Harry here, do you?”

He did not.

Harry would somehow find a way to end the current war and begin a new one if Severus left him unsupervised for too long.

She grinned knowingly at Severus’ lack of a response. “And international portkeys are getting to be difficult for you common folk to acquire. I could get one, easy. The witch that runs the department owes me a favor. If you’d keep a good eye on Susan for me, I could get a portkey and be there and back in less than two weeks, maybe even quicker.”

“You would do that?” Severus asked her. “You would go to Germany and question Gregorovitch for me?”

“Certainly not for free,” Nymphadora said, a mischievous glimmer alighting in her eyes.

“Oh?” Severus asked, playing along to what he was certain, based on her expression, would be a jest of some sort. “And what terrible price would I have to pay for this great favor?”

“First,” Nymphadora leaned forward slowly, placing her lips mere centimeters from his, “I believe we are no longer in the same house as our nosy teenagers, so I’d like to take you back up on that offer to not sleep in your bed,” she whispered, her breath on his lips sending a slight shiver down his spine.

“Acceptable,” he murmured. He didn’t bother to correct her that technically they were still within the same castle as their incredibly invasive and meddling teenagers. They had not found many opportunities to be alone over the holiday, as Nymphadora assisted Susan in clearing out Bones Cottage and Severus had been caught up in his research. And when they did find themselves alone, it was while sharing a house with Harry ‘I Have No Boundaries and Will Sprawl Across Severus’ Bed At Any Given Time’ Potter and Susan ‘I Ask Too Many Questions In Public About My Guardian’s Romantic Life’ Bones.

Which did not lend much assistance towards intimacy.

“Secondly,” Nymphadora pulled away slightly, causing Severus to unconsciously lean towards her, “what are the odds that you’d be willing to redecorate your room, just a bit?”

“What?” Severus pulled back this time, entirely confused by the request. “Redecorate my room?”

What kind of a mad request was that? Granted, Severus had a minimal history with intimacy of any sort, certainly none of the romantic kind, but he was unsure how a paint job was meant to help or hinder it in any way.

“I’m going to say something, and you’re not going to like it much,” Nymphadora said, shifting uneasily beside him. “I snooped in your room, once. Just poked my head in, made sure there wasn’t really a coffin, you know.”

Severus snorted. “You looked in my incredibly private bedroom to ensure that I do not hoard dark and cursed items as your coworkers have undoubtedly warned you that I do,” he corrected her. “Understood. Go on.”

“Right,” Nymphadora grinned unabashedly at his accurate rephrasing. “And... well... I know she was your friend, but... I don’t much fancy getting undressed in front of a photo of Lily Potter on your nightstand.”

Son of a bitch.

Severus sat back and carefully cleared his face from showing any emotions.

He had forgotten about that photo. It had been a gift, from Harry, back in his first year. Albus had sent the child a book of photographs of his parents, and Harry, knowing Severus’ connection to his mother, gave Severus one of Lily on her wedding day playfully blowing a kiss at whoever took her photo. The fact that Harry gave it to him had meant nearly as much as the photograph itself. Severus kept it displayed in an area only he traveled in, as a reminder of the friend he once had, and the person who drove his vow to protect Harry which grew to become Severus’ love of Lily’s son.

His son.

Severus would not remove the photograph. It was not a magical portrait with the ability to speak and carry on conversation, merely a common wizarding photograph that played a few seconds of a loop. It was a gift. And Severus would keep it right where he had it.

It was an absurd request to make.

Yet... Perhaps it was due to his relatively sleep-deprived mind, or his own lessons on empathy to Harry that drew the thought up, but... but what if Severus entered Nymphadora’s bedroom and found a framed photographed of her friend, Charles Weasley, on her nightstand?

It was this flare of petulant jealousy that caused Severus to clear his throat once more.

“Also acceptable,” he said evenly. “I have been meaning to give that back to Harry, at any rate. He gave it to me, as a gift of sorts.”

Nymphadora had a much too knowing look on her face when she hesitantly spoke. “You don’t have to get rid of it, that’s not what I’m saying. I know she was your friend, and you loved her. Just, maybe... maybe move it?” She smiled at him with a bit more of her typical confidence. “I’m not daft, Sev, I know I’m not your first anything, but... but I’d like to be the photograph on your nightstand one day, does that make sense?”

It did.

Severus gave her an appreciative smile and stood, offering her his hand and pulling her close once she grasped it. “You are the first for many things,” he told her quietly. “You are the first to assist me so altruistically and enthusiastically. You are about to be the first witch to sleep in my bed with me. And...” Severus swallowed as he attempted to be as open with her as she had always been with him. “And you are the first person whose photograph I would be pleased to place on my nightstand, current photograph notwithstanding.”

“Truly?” Nymphadora breathed, looking up at him with earnest and bright eyes.

“Truly.”

Nymphadora’s undeserved look of awe shifted to a more characteristically open and playful smile. “What if I don’t want to sleep in your bed?”

Severus dipped his head down, placing his mouth beside her ear. “What if you are exhausted?” he murmured in a soft and silky tone. “What if you are simply drained of all energy?” He smirked a bit smugly as Nymphadora’s neck erupted in tiny goosebumps.

It was revolutionary to him, Nymphadora’s reactions. As much as she affected him, it seemed as if he were able to affect her just as much.

“That’s a high bar to set,” she told him as the blacks of her pupils seemed to dilate. “Anything less than an absolute drain of my energy will be such a letdown.”

“Come.” Severus held her hand and pulled her gently towards his room. “Let’s see if I cannot silence your endless wit for a while, hmm?”

Nymphadora laughed, eagerly allowing him to lead her to his room.

“One moment, please,” Severus told her. He kissed her knuckles chastely before dropping her hand and slipping in to his room alone.

Severus took a deep breath to steady himself as he stared down at the photograph of Lily.

Lily had been his friend- his first friend. She had been his confidant, and his rock during a tumultuous childhood. Severus had loved her, but he ultimately let her down. He had not been the kind of person at the time to understand a selfless sort of love, and how could he? Severus certainly had never seen it modeled for him within his home or with his classmates at the time.

He stared in to Lily’s green eyes and thought of Harry. As much as Severus taught Harry, and as much as he hoped to continue teaching Harry, about life, Harry did not come without lessons for Severus as well.

Lessons on selfless love.

Lessons on what it truly meant to place someone else above yourself.

Severus never could have offered Lily that, and she knew it. She found it in James, and they died together as they selflessly attempted to save their child’s life.

Did it mean that Severus could not change, that he could not become a better person now than the one he had been in his past?

Could Severus not be the person who did not let someone down, who placed someone else’s happiness above his own, aside from only Harry?

“I can,” he whispered to Lily’s photograph. “Thank you, friend, for Harry.” Severus grabbed the photo and moved to his closet, to the top shelf with his belongings that he no longer required, but refused to trash, such as his parents’ marriage certificate. “Goodbye,” he said, reaching up and carefully placing Lily’s photograph in the box. “Rest easy.”

Severus expected he would feel grief, removing the photograph from his beside table. Instead, curiously, he felt... lighter.

The beside table, much as Severus’ future, was blank.

Empty.

Free.

Free from the past.

Able to be decorated however he wished.

With the assistance of the Hallows, perhaps he could one day place a photograph of Harry’s ministerial election there. Or a framed newspaper clipping of Harry winning the World Cup.

He could begrudgingly add a photo of Harry’s wedding.

And... perhaps... Severus moved to the door, opening it to Nymphadora with a small smile, which she responded to with a bright smile of joy... perhaps he would one day add a photograph of Nymphadora to his table.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, January 14

“I’m sooo bored,” Harry whined, thunking his head dramatically on the lunch table. “What’s the point in even finishing school?”

“Obtaining your NEWTS,” Hermione said haughtily.

“Quidditch,” said Trent.

“Being with me,” Susan flicked Harry in the head irritatingly.

“Not much, honestly,” Luna hummed.

Harry blindly reached down the table until he was sure he was near Luna and reached out to pat her arm.

“That’s the spirit,” he said.

“You are groping my chest.”

Harry sat up quickly and turned a wide eyed look at Draco, who had a single blonde brow raised at where Harry’s hand had actually been on his chest.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry yelped, pulling his hand away quickly as heat climbed up his neck. “Fuck. Sorry, Dray. I thought you were Luna.”

“Am I meant to be less offended that you were intending on groping Luna’s chest?” Draco scowled while the others roared with laughter.

“No! Fuck! No!” Harry said quickly. “I was trying to squeeze her arm, like ‘thanks for backing me up, Lue’. Jesus.”

“If I could make a suggestion,” Blaise said with a lazy grin, “perhaps look before you go squeezing at a young lady such as Miss Lovegood?”

“Shut up,” Harry grit out as everyone else laughed again. “Lue, I wasn’t trying to grope you.”

“I know,” Luna said with a grin and an airy flip of her hand. “You meant to grope Draco, obviously.”

Harry thunked his head on the table again, rattling the dishes near him. This time though, he tucked his hands beneath his legs.

No need to add fuel to the never ending Hogwarts rumor mill.

There had been a new rumor circulating around the castle, no doubt started by Ginny fucking Weasley, that Harry was ‘polyamorous’. Harry had no idea what it meant when one of the fifth year Slytherins nervously came up to him and told him about the rumor. Then Theo explained it and Harry misunderstood and wound up having a bit of a spat with Fred over it.

Harry had thrown himself in the dorm, temporarily locking the other boys out and snapped Fred’s name angrily in the mirror.

“You look like you’re in a delightful mood,” Fred grinned at Harry’s fuming expression. “What’s up, darlin?”

Harry spoke slowly and clearly, despite his annoyance, “I do not fucking consent to us having multiple other sexual partners.”

Fred pulled the mirror a little away from himself as he blinked at Harry in surprise. “Yeaaaah,” he said slowly, “me either.”

“Theo said that people are saying we have ‘multiple sexual partners’ and I’m telling you right now, no,” Harry scowled. “I don’t care how fuckin lonely you might get. You can bloody well wait for me, can’t you?”

“Harry, light of my life, my one and only, my happily ever after, can I call you back?”

“Why?” Harry asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Wellll...” Fred tilted the mirror around and Harry blanched and had to quickly pull up his ‘I am Draco Malfoy, and emotions are for peasants’ mask as George, Bill, and Charlie all waved a bit awkwardly at him.

“Hiya, Harrikins,” George yelled. “Good on you. I too enjoy starting my conversations off with stating my monogamous lifestyle.”

And, since Harry had no fucking idea what that meant, he ignored him.

“Call me back when you have time,” Harry hissed at Fred when his face came back in view. “Jesus.”

They cleared it up that night.

Apparently, when Theo said that people saying Harry was polyamorous, he meant that the other students thought Harry was ‘involved’ with multiple partners. Not that Fred was.

Harry apologized to Fred, but Fred thought it was a laugh and told Harry that he should start all his calls off like that because his brothers thought it was hilarious.

It was no wonder Harry kept cocking it up with Fred’s family. Sometimes, just sometimes, he thought that Snape’s sarcastic advice of ‘thinking before he speaks’ held some merit after all.

Either way, Harry groping Draco’s chest certainly wasn’t going to convince anyone that he wasn’t having sex with all of his friends.

“Am I a knife wielding maniac with a grudge against the Gryffindor’s or a shameless slag shagging all of you?” Harry asked, turning his head and eyeing his friends thoughtfully. “It would be a bit weird, any of you wanting to shag me if I’m such a psycho, wouldn’t it?”

“Not really,” Susan shrugged. “People are attracted to psycho’s all the time. In fact, I think you’d be much more attractive if you were going around stabbing the Gryffindor quidditch team.”

“Not all of the Gryffindor quidditch team,” Trent said hastily with a quick red-cheeked look over his shoulder and a little wave to Sapphire.

“If you are stabbing Gryffindor’s, I would pay you to take Sapphire out next,” Daphne said sweetly.

Harry sat up and gave Daphne an incredulous look, as did Trent. “Why?” Harry asked. He glanced over at the Gryffindors and watched as Sapphire laughed at something one of her classmates said and tossed her brunette hair over her shoulder. “Sapphire’s a bit weird, but she’s alright, really.”

“She’s a good keeper, it would make beating Gryffindor easier,” Ron said quickly. He shared a little secret grin with Daphne that made Harry doubt the truth in his reasoning though. “And, no offense, Susan, but I’d be less likely to join Harry’s weird little harem if he was the one stabbing people. That’s barmy.”

“‘Less likely’?” Theo asked, smirking at Ron. “So there’s a chance now?”

Daphne laughed at Ron’s sudden look of horror as he glanced at Harry. Harry raised his brows, silently daring Ron to insult him, and Ron shook his head with a chuckle.

“Fred would kill me,” he said with a grin. “Sorry, Harry, I guess we’ll never know how great we would be.”

Harry laughed, appeased by Ron’s surprisingly tactful answer. “Shame,” he drawled. “I suppose I’ll leave you to Daphne.”

This time it was Daphne’s turn to blush as everyone laughed. Then Blaise leaned forward and smirked at Harry from his spot by Neville (who, apparently, he was not dating. Harry had no idea why they would say they were, but Draco called Harry an idiot and said Neville was ‘as straight as a stick’. Which actually made Draco the idiot since most sticks weren’t actually all that straight).

“Harry, darling, if you were going to start shagging us, who would you start with?” Blaise asked with a challenging glint in his gold eyes.

Harry would have ignored him, or hexed him, but everyone else turned to look at Harry and he knew Blaise expected him to not respond- so obviously he had to.

Harry ignored Theo and Draco, since they were actually related and that would be disgusting. He also ignored Trent, who was just a kid, which was also disgusting.

Hermione was too bossy. Too much of a know-it-all. Harry thought sex with her might be a bit like following an instruction manual and he wasn’t interested at all in even hypothetically finding out if it was true.

Daphne was gorgeous, honestly one of the best looking witches in the castle. Long blonde hair, smooth pale skin, blue eyes with a spark in them that was interesting. Harry didn’t know much about her though, which made him uneasy.

Lue was gorgeous too. Probably one of the prettiest witches ever, full stop. She was sweet, compassionate, and brilliant. If it weren’t for Fred and Draco, Harry probably would have fallen for Luna, honestly. He’d never meet a better person than Luna Lovegood. But Blaise didn’t ask who Harry would date, and just shagging people was quite a bit different. Plus, Harry couldn’t imagine ever being with Luna in any way where he could accidentally hurt her. So she was off the list.

Ron wasn’t bad looking, even looked like Fred a bit. But Ron had once cracked Harry’s rib and split his lip open, and, unlike Susan, Harry didn’t think a ‘rough shag’ sounded all that great.

Harry’s eyes flicked between Neville, Blaise, and Susan for a moment while everyone snickered and watched him assess them all. Neville had gotten rather handsome recently, he’d gotten quite a bit taller this year and carried himself with more confidence in a way that was attractive. He was also thoughtful, polite, and had a nice smile.

Blaise was probably the most attractive bloke in the school though. His sharp cheekbones and equally sharp eyes were appealing, in a way. Harry had also beaten him easily in a hand-to-hand fight, so he doubted if Blaise could accidentally crush him during sex. Blaise was very cunning though, which was a good quality to have in a friend and ally, but not in almost any other relationship.

And Susan... Susan with her magical golden arm that could crush Harry’s bones to dust... Susan was tall and curvy in the way that Harry knew that guys appreciated. And she had nice hair, shiny red curls, but... but she looked a bit like his mum Lily Potter, which was a weird thing to think and made up Harry’s mind instantly.

“Neville,” he told Blaise confidently. “I’m not going to, and you can tell your little gossip buddies in the other houses that, but if I did, I suppose I’d start with Neville.”

“How rude,” Susan sniffed while Neville winked at Harry and everyone else laughed loudly enough to bring quite a few sets of eyes towards their seats in the Great Hall. “I happen to be a great shag, Harry Potter.”

Harry scoffed and sneered at the Ravenclaw’s who were watching them and whispering to one another. “If I ever become ‘polyamorous’, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said sarcastically.

“I don’t know if I’m offended, or relieved,” Daphne said thoughtfully. “Relieved, I suppose.”

“Personally, I’m insulted,” said Blaise. “I suppose your crush on my mother must have kept you from seeing that obviously I am the most shaggable person in our gang.”

“I do not have a crush on your mother,” Harry lied in a harsh whisper. “Shut the fuck up, Zabini.”

He did.

The Contessa was brilliant.

Beautiful. Deadly. Smart. Powerful. Important.

Free to live her life however she wanted, not giving a damn if it made her friends or foes along the way.

She was everything Harry ever wanted to be.

It was actually a bit embarrassing how much Harry adored her.

Thankfully, the bell rang before Blaise could quip back with anything else embarrassing.

“Where are you off to?” Theo asked curiously as Harry sighed and tossed his bag over his shoulder.

“Library,” Harry said morosely. “I’ve got that essay for Slughorn due Monday, don’t I?”

“The essay on the dangers of Polyjuice and animal hair?” Hermione asked. “Harry, that was due today.”

“Right,” Harry nodded, “but I didn’t do it. And I told Slughorn that. So he said I could turn it in Monday.”

“Slughorn would let you kill Macmillan in the middle of class and pretend he never noticed,” Draco sighed and shook his head at Harry with mock-disapproval. “Teachers pet.”

“Jealous prat,” Harry told him with a grin. “Have fun in class, I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

Harry waved at everyone else as he made his way to the library with a lazy strut. He’d honestly rather go... well... anywhere, really, than go sit in the library and try to focus on writing an essay, but he couldn’t just turn in a blank parchment and a roguish smile.

... could he?

No.

No. Probably not.

It was this overall apathy and lack of an interest towards his task that led Harry to noticing the other students still in the corridors more than usual. He waved to a few Slytherin boys who called his name and waved, he stopped to chat with a younger Hufflepuff girl who asked him about quidditch, and nearly made it to the library when he was stopped by a set of twins.

They were entirely identical, with their long straight black hair and their almond shaped eyes. One of them had a pair of dangly silver earrings and a Gryffindor tie on and the other wore a woolly hand-knit scar and a Ravenclaw tie though.

Harry thought they might be in his year, he recognized them vaguely, but he wasn’t sure.

“Hi, Harry,” the girl with the Gryffindor tie said with a bright smile.

“Hello,” Harry said. He leaned on the wall next to the library doorway and gave them a curious look. “What’s up?”

“We wanted to ask you for a favor,” the Ravenclaw twin said, dropping her voice to a hushed whisper. “Would you mind putting up a privacy shield?”

Harry quirked a brow and smirked as he twitched his pinky the slightest bit and placed a bubble around them. He kind of doubted they wanted to fight him. If they did, then they were idiots because not only would Harry kill them, but they’d chosen a place full of witnesses.

“We have a problem, and we were hoping we could talk to you about it,” the Gryffindor girl said. “Blaise and Susan said you’re trustworthy.”

“Did they?” Harry hummed. Harry’s eyes flicked over the girl’s tie and he gave her a skeptical look. “And what do your housemates say?”

“They say you’re an arse,” she said with a brazen look in her eyes and a factual lilt to her tone. “You’re terrifying, you’re a killer, you’re going to take over the world one day and nobody will be safe.”

Harry shrugged modestly. He would have been flattered, honestly, until the other girl chimed in.

“I heard you and your friends have orgies in the Slytherin dorms.”

Whoever said ‘no publicity is bad publicity’ was a moron that Harry would be happy to have a talk with someday.

“We don’t,” Harry said coolly, his hand clenching with irritation. “What favor do you want?” he sneered at her.

The girls exchanged a long look, doing that weird twin thing that made Harry wonder if muggle twins could read each other’s minds like magical ones seemed able to or not.

“Our parents want us to leave Hogwarts,” the Ravenclaw girl said in a brisk tone. “We don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because they think Dumbledore isn’t enough to protect the school,” the Gryffindor girl said.

“No.” Harry rolled his eyes. He knew why parents were yanking their kids out of Hogwarts left and right. Snape said the school had lost a quarter of the students so far, and the numbers increased with every death eater attack. “I meant, why don’t you want to quit?”

“We like it here,” the Ravenclaw girl said incredulously, as if it were ridiculous to consider otherwise. “We want to finish our education and stay here with our peers. We don’t want to leave.”

“How old are you?” Harry asked them.

“Sixteen,” she said. “So you see our problem.”

“I mean, yeah, but it definitely seems like a you problem,” Harry shrugged. “I’m not sure how I could help, I’m not sure why I would bother. I don’t even know who you are.”

The Gryffindor girls jaw dropped and she looked suddenly offended. “Parvati Patil,” she said slowly. “We’re in your year. We’ve shared classes together for years.”

That’s right. Harry remembered Sirius mentioning a set of twins in his year on Halloween. He knew the two of them looked a bit familiar.

“Padma,” the other one said, her hand stuck out to Harry. Harry glanced at it then gave her a cool look. She dropped her hand without a fuss once it was obvious Harry wasn’t going to shake it. “And we need a letter of support to file for emancipation with the Ministry. We wanted to ask you to write us one. We already have one from Lavender Brown’s father, agreeing to let us stay with their family. And we have one from Madame Malkin and Mister Fortescue, saying we can work for them this summer this summer to save money. But one from Harry Potter would rather seal the deal, don’t you think?”

Harry laughed lightly, a smirk playing around his lips. “Why would I do that? We aren’t friends. I doubt if you have anything I want.”

Parvati’s lip trembled a little, but Padma narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.

“Dumbledore wouldn’t do it either,” she said. “He thinks we should listen to our parents. Is that what you think as well?”

Harry probably would have done it just to prove that he had nothing in common, Padma’s goal in saying that he was sure, but he wouldn’t do it for free. And if he didn’t even remember their names after six years of shared classes, he doubted if they were people he wanted to owe him a favor.

“Seems like you’re in a bit of a bind,” Harry said carelessly. “I’d talk to Flitwick or Black, if I were you.”

“But... but you’re Harry Potter!” Parvati cried. “If you wrote us a letter then it would definitely be granted! Please, Harry? Please?”

Padma must have sensed Harry’s answer, because she quickly opened her mouth before he could say anything. “I’m not in your potions class, but I am your others,” she said. “I’ll write your essays for the rest of the year.”

“Done. D’you have a letter I can just sign or do I have to write it?” Harry asked eagerly.

Padma beamed and pulled a scroll from her bag. “I have it here,” she said. She handed it to Harry, “You can read it over, I swear to you it’s just a standard letter saying we’re model students; responsible, sensible, mature enough to handle an emancipation.”

“Vow it,” Harry murmured, his eyes flicking over the letter quickly. When Padma didn’t reply, Harry lifted his eyes and raised his brows. “I didn’t stutter,” he said softly, adding a bit of a threat to his tone now. “Vow that it’s just a standard letter and you want my signature for no other reason than to become legally emancipated.”

“You’re joking?” Parvati said. “You want an Unbreakable Vow for a letter of recommendation?”

“From two witches I don’t know in the middle of a fuckin war? You bet I do,” Harry told them. “C’mon, I don’t have all day.”

He did, actually. He had no afternoon classes, and none of his friends were available at the moment. Harry had nothing but time, but not to waste it arguing with a couple girls he barely knew who wanted a favor from him.

“We’ll do it.” Padma stuck her chin out and raised her wand, Parvati followed her lead after a moment of hesitation.

Harry waited until they made their vow to give them a bright smile. “Brill, give me a quill.”

By the time Harry finished signing the letter, that truthfully did seem pretty normal, both girls were smiling identical pretty smiles.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Parvati said. “I knew you couldn’t be as bad as everyone says.”

“I might be worse,” Harry said solemnly with a wink that made Parvati giggle and Padma sigh quietly. “Ta, ladies.” Harry dispelled his bubble and resumed his path to the library. He’d barely made it inside the doors, smiling politely to Madame Pince, when someone whispered his name and he turned around.

Padma quickly walked back up to Harry and gave him a nervous sort of smile. “I didn’t join your defense club last year because, truthfully, you scare me. But I didn’t join the Gryffindor club either.” She stuck her hand out to Harry again and looked him right in the eye, “If I had another chance, I would join your club and your side. Hermione was right, you’re a smart guy.”

Harry hid his surprise at her declaration behind a bored mask and accepted her handshake this time. “Ta,” he said. He dropped it quickly and gave her a crooked smile, “Did Hermione really say I’m smart?”

“Hermione thinks quite highly of you,” Padma said. She smiled widely, showing off a perfect set of even white teeth. “I can see why,” she winked.

Harry had a bemused expression as Padma abruptly ran off.

It wasn’t that weird that someone would ask Harry to use his fame for their benefit, it was just weird that Hermione apparently spoke highly of him in the Ravenclaw Tower.

It was nice, but definitely weird.

Harry sat himself at the library table and pulled out Slughorn’s essay before checking his watch. If he made himself hurry up and write it in the next forty-five minutes, then Ron, Draco, and Neville would be out of Herbology and Harry could probably talk them in to going up to the Room of Secrets for target practice before dinner. Harry dipped his quill in the inkpot with confidence. He’d once lasted nearly forty-five minutes under water, in a lake, while he thought Luna was going to die. He could write an essay for that long.

No problem.

Harry lasted less than thirty minutes before he decided that he’d accept whatever grade Slughorn gave him for the essay and packed his bag back up.

Writing essays was a unique sort of torture.

Harry walked towards the main doors, planning on intercepting his friends as soon as they were released, and smiled a bit to himself. He idly wondered if he could find someone in his potions class who needed a favor that he could trade for.

“Hey, Mione?”

Hermione didn’t even lift her eyes from her book as everyone ate their dinner and chatted amongst themselves. “Yes, Harry?”

“Mione, did you tell the Ravenclaw girls that I’m a smart guy?”

Hermione’s cheeks turned pink, but she did an admirable job of keeping her eyes on her book and her tone nonchalant. “Maybe.”

“She did,” Luna confirmed with a teasing grin. “Michael Corner was rather put out one day that Professor Black let you help him teach everyone a non-verbal counter-jinx and he was being quite loud about it, so Hermione,” Luna gave her a frank look of admiration, “yelled at him, in front of the whole house! She said you were one of the smartest wizards she’d ever met and Michael was just jealous because you got all O’s on your OWLS.”

“Even though you didn’t,” Theo muttered, still skeptical of Harry’s self-reported grades.

Harry ignored him in favor of teasing Hermione. Honestly, as much time as she spent around Harry, he didn’t think she really liked him much, let alone thought he was one of the smartest wizards she’d ever met. Powerful? Sure. Strong? Definitely.

Smart? It was an actual compliment and not just a fact, which made Harry feel rather fond of her in the moment.

“I think you’re smart too,” Harry told her genuinely. “Padma Patil said you think highly of me.”

“Padma is a terrible gossip and a filthy liar,” Hermione muttered, her blush darkening. “You shouldn’t trust her. She’s a snake in disguise.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Theo smirked, “Hermione loves you Harry, she thinks you’re brilliant and amazing. I’d be jealous, really, except she also thinks you’re a slacker with no ambition.”

Hermione slapped her book shut and scowled at Theo. “You’re also a snake in disguise,” she hissed. Harry didn’t think she sounded mad, just embarrassed for some reason.

“Awe, babe, don’t leave,” Theo said as Hermione stuffed her book in her bag and got to her feet. “Give me five minutes to have pudding and we can go study in my dorm.”

“I’m going to study in my dorm tonight,” Hermione said with another blush. “You don’t seem to care about our runes project, but I do.”

Theo sighed and dragged a bowl of pudding towards him as Hermione stalked away. “I really don’t care about the project,” he told Harry as he dished Harry some pudding too. “Draco and I already have ours figured out.”

Harry made a noncommittal humming sound and tried to catch Trent’s eyes, hoping he’d save him from having to listen to Theo’s impending explanation of a project for a class that Harry had absolutely no knowledge in, but Trent was talking back and forth quickly with Daphne and didn’t see Harry’s pleading look.

“So, we were thinking- what if we could invent something that gave you the ability to channel potion properties and mix them with the property of the runes...”

Harry ate his pudding and ‘hmm’d’ and ‘wow’d’ at random intervals as Theo gave a long, drawn out, overly detailed description of his project. Mentally though, Harry was back on the seventh floor with Ron, Draco, and Neville and shooting at little flying targets the Room of Secrets provided them with.

Another plus in Neville’s ‘shaggability’ column, he was beginning to become a hell of a shot.

Harry and Susan had barely started their ‘five minute feeling’ session that night when Harry heard the dorm door slam open, then slam shut.

“What the fuck?” Harry asked, pulling his curtain open and glaring at Theo. “What’s your problem?”

“Hermione’s mad at me,” Theo scowled. He threw himself on his bed and crossed his arms over his chest as he glowered up at the ceiling. “She doesn’t want me to stay with her tonight.”

“Why?” Susan asked, peeking her head out of Harry’s bed curtains beside him. “What’d you do to her?”

“Apparently she’s mad about what I said at dinner,” Theo said with a whine lacing his words. “She wouldn’t even come let me in the Ravenclaw Tower.”

“Maybe she just fell asleep?” Draco suggested from his bed. “It is January, Theo, you know she’s probably in exam mode already.”

“That sounds like Hermione,” Ron chuckled. “I’m sure she’s just as disgustingly in love with you as always, mate,” he told Theo. “Who can understand witches? They’re barmy, the lot of them.”

Theo and Susan both threw pillows at Ron, knocking him backwards.

“Jokes on you, I’m keeping them,” Ron said pompously, cuddling the pillows tightly with a grin.

Harry snorted and laid back on his bed. It would be very in character for Hermione to already be stressing as much as the professors were over exams that were four months away.

Harry and Susan laid back on his bed, respelling the curtains shut, and finished their nightly ritual before falling asleep.

It wasn’t until Harry, Susan, Ron, Draco, Trent, and Theo were heading up to breakfast the next morning and Theo kept whining about Hermione being mad at him that Harry felt an inkling of unease about her absence from their dorm last night.

“If she’s not at breakfast, I’ll have Luna take me to her dorm and find her,” Harry promised Theo. “If she is at breakfast though, maybe give her some flowers, or a jumper?”

“Why a jumper?” Trent asked Harry as Theo gave him a faint smile in appreciation.

“Er...” Harry furrowed his brows and squinted as he tried to remember what he read in the courting book last year when he’d been looking for a birthday gift for Fred. “Clothes are supposed to be a domestic gift that signifies intimacy and comfort with one another,” Harry said, bungling the quote entirely but confident it was the general idea of it.

“What’s a fancy quill signify?”

Harry gave Trent an exasperated look. “Did you buy Sapphire a fancy quill?”

“No,” Trent laughed and shook his head. “Astoria gave me a fancy quill and asked if I’d go to Hogsmeade with her on Valentine’s Day.”

“I thought you were sweet on Sapphire?” Blaise asked him as their group entered the Great Hall.

Harry ignored Trent’s animated story about the love triangle he apparently found himself in as he glanced around for Hermione’s messy bun of bushy hair. Theo gave Harry a nervous look as they both took note of Hermione’s absence.

“Luna’s not here yet, either,” Susan said, catching on to the boys’ trains of thoughts quickly. “If Luna shows up without Mione, then we can panic.”

They didn’t even get a chance to be reassured by Susan’s words before Harry’s stomach dropped as Professor McGonagall came striding between the house tables straight towards them.

Theo whimpered very quietly, and Harry stretched his hand out to grab Theo’s as McGonagall approached them.

“Nott, Potter, with me,” she said curtly with soft eyes that Harry knew meant trouble. She didn’t even give them a chance to answer, she just went straight to the doors and held them open for them.

“Sue, get everyone,” Harry murmured. He pushed Susan carefully towards the Slytherin table before jogging quickly beside Theo to get to the doors where McGonagall waited. “What’s happened, ma’am?” he asked her with as much respect in his tone as he could muster in the moment.

“It’s Granger. She was taken to the Hospital Wing.”

Of course she was. Because the last time Hermione had been missing, she’d been petrified.

Harry was going to end up putting a tracking spell on his friends, he was sure of it.

Harry and all the others crowded around Hermione’s bed, all of them quiet as they waited for her to wake up.

She looked like hell. Madame Pomfrey said she would be fine, she would wake up soon, and that she’d been attacked ‘in a similar manner to the others’.

Harry had assumed that meant someone fucking stabbed her, tortured her, and wiped her memory, but they had no way of knowing until Hermione woke up.

Attacking Hermione was the god damned opposite thing Harry would expect of someone to do that wanted to gain favor with him.

Professor McGonagall said Hermione had been found in the dungeons, in an empty classroom early that morning. McGonagall’s lips were as thin as Harry had ever seen them and her face had been completely colorless when she assured them that whoever did it would be expelled immediately. Harry felt both better and worse seeing the fire of fury in McGonagall’s eyes- it meant someone was going to go down for this, but it also meant that something about Hermione’s attack had been different.

McGonagall certainly didn’t look like that when she told Harry about Seamus Finnigan.

“She was in the dungeons all night, alone,” Theo moaned, his brown eyes wet and his face pale as he knelt beside Hermione’s bed. “I’m so stupid. I thought she was mad at me, and she was hurt.”

“Hey, it isn’t your fault,” Blaise swore, reaching out to touch Theo’s shoulder reassuringly. “You couldn’t have known, Theo.”

“I SHOULD HAVE!” Theo yelled. “She’s not some petty idiot- I should have fucking known something was wrong!”

Luna made a small sound and looked up at the ceiling. “Keep talking, Theo,” she said softly, her eyes going in and out of focus. “Hermione’ll wake up if you talk.”

“Love?” Theo grabbed Hermione’s hand and squeezed it tight while they all watched Hermione’s sleeping face closely. “Hermione, wake up please. Please. I’m so sorry. I love you. Please wake up.”

Harry bit his tongue as hard as he could as he watched Hermione’s eyelids flutter and her even breathing break rhythm briefly.

“Th-Theo...?” Hermione said, her lips opening to whisper before her eyes did to see. “Theo?”

“I’m here.” Theo squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing it there. “I’m here, love,” he murmured.

Hermione’s eyelids fluttered for another moment before she finally opened her eyes with a loud gasp. “Theo?”

Harry and the others watched silently as Hermione stared hard at Theo for a moment before suddenly Theo was in Hermione’s bed, holding her as they murmured softly to one another too quickly and quietly for any of them to make out their words.

“We should go, give them a moment,” Ron muttered, shifting around uneasily.

“Not yet,” Susan said. “Hermione,” she knelt beside the bed in Theo’s abandoned spot and reached out to grab Hermione’s hand that was clenched tightly on Theo’s robes. “Do you remember what happened?”

Harry didn’t expect an answer, he expected her to have been obliviated like Finnigan and Ginny had been, so he was caught off-guard by Hermione’s sniffled response.

“A bit,” she said. Theo shifted so that he was stretched out beside Hermione, as opposed to right on top of her, and Hermione gave him a quivering smile.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Neville asked Hermione quietly, his round face soft with sympathy as he looked at her.

It was a wild thought to have, but Harry was momentarily jealous that Neville was able to look so soft, so sympathetic, so caring, with just a single look.

If Harry tried that, he’d probably just look constipated.

“Wait, let me get McGonagall,” Draco said. “She’ll want to know.”

“Not yet,” Harry said softly. He didn’t want McGonagall to know yet. He needed to know first.

If McGonagall expelled whoever did it before Harry had a chance to kill them, then he’d have to wait until summer.

And he was fucking sick of having to wait to hurt the people who hurt his people.

“You don’t have to,” Theo told Hermione gently. “Let’s give you a minute, love.”

“I’m f-fine,” Hermione said, in a tone that didn’t sound fine at all. She sounded young, much younger than seventeen. And that only added to Harry’s overall feeling of unease with the changes in Hermione’s attacks as compared to Ginny and Finnigan’s.

Hermione sniffed and shifted to a sitting position. “I was in the library after dinner that night Harry and Theo were teasing me—”

Someone snorted quietly, and Theo quickly assured Hermione that it was only last night that she got attacked.

“Good,” Hermione sighed. “Well, I was in the library, getting a book real quick, and there was a little girl, a first year, I think, I don’t really remember, but she had a huge stack of books she had been trying to carry. So I offered to help her. She said she needed to take them to the dungeons, so I guess she was a Slytherin, but while we were going down the back staircase, someone stunned me in the back.”

”Fucking scumbag coward,” Harry hissed quietly, masking his words in Parsletongue. Not that it seemed to matter much, because Blaise looked over at him and nodded in what seemed to be agreement.

Probably just guessed that Harry had been swearing. He did do it frequently.

“Then what happened?” Susan asked Hermione softly, her voice the right mixture of sweet and curious.

Again, something Harry could never pull off himself, but sounded so natural from Susan.

“And then- then I woke up, in a classroom, petrified and- and he stabbed me.” Hermione twisted on the bed, looking at her right shoulder with teary eyes. “‘Scum’, he called me,” she sniffled. “He cursed me, and I thought I was going to pass out, but I didn’t. Then... then he- he cut my robe with the knife, then said I ‘wasn’t bad looking, for a Mudblood’.”

Harry and Theo hissed through their teeth simultaneously. And, for once, it had little to do with the phrase ‘mudblood’, on Harry’s end anyway.

“I tried to summon my wand, to use wandless magic, but it didn’t work,” Hermione said, her tears freely trickling down her cheeks now and she stared at her lap and avoided looking at them. “He... he said a bunch of stuff, nasty things, vulgar, and said he was going to kill me, so who cared what happened in the meantime? And- and I thought he was going to- because he cut my shirt down the middle... in the front, and,” Hermione took a deep breath, “and he opened my blouse and laughed at me. Said...” she glanced towards Theo quickly before moving her eyes back to her lap, “He said he ‘didn’t see what Nott was so excited about’. But someone else, a boy, I think, I couldn’t see him, yelled at him to just ‘kill me and get it over with’.”

Nobody said anything.

There weren’t words to explain the level of disgusting that it was.

Harry felt as if every drop of blood in his body was boiling. It was a mark of the magical control that Sirius hammered in his head over his week of detentions that nothing in the Hospital Wing broke, even though Harry was certain that he was cracking right down the middle.

They all waited for Hermione to collect herself a little and crowded more firmly around her bed.

“I thought I was going to die,” Hermione whispered. “But- instead- he- he touched me, he rubbed my shoulder, right where he’d cut it at, and told me...” Hermione’s tears seemed to drip on her lap more steadily. “He told me that he wasn’t going to kill me, because- because maybe he’d ‘have a use for me later’.”

Harry’s boiling blood suddenly froze to the point where he couldn’t breathe.

How many times had he heard that? When he lived on the streets? How often had his entire existence been diminished to how useful his body was for the pleasure of others?

“Mione...”

“Then what?” Harry asked sharply, interrupting Susan. Hermione didn’t need Susan’s soft tone right now, Hermione had to say what happened, spit it out quickly, like a poison, or it would ruin her forever.

Harry knew that first hand.

He also knew, knew in his fucking soul, that, as horrible and disgusting as this attack had been, Hermione had only narrowly avoided being killed.

And he’d be damned if he let it happen again.

‘A use for her later’? No. Harry would find a fucking use for whoever did this right fucking now.

“Then he cut me, here,” Hermione reached up and trailed her fingers over her neck where a faint pink scar was all that was left of the bloody wound it once had been. “And he petrified me, left me on the floor. I- I guess I blacked out then, I don’t remember anything between then and now.”

“Do you remember who it was?” Theo asked, his voice hoarse with what Harry suspected was thinly veiled rage.

Hermione nodded and finally lifted her head, her eyes seeking Harry’s out immediately.

“Goyle,” she told him, speaking directly to Harry as if she knew what her words would incite. “The boy who did it was Goyle.”

Harry stormed from the Hospital Wing, sticking his hand out as he summoned his map from his dorm and his Invisibility Cloak from wherever Snape had it. As soon as both items were in his hands, he threw the cloak on and activated the map.

Harry had a unique opportunity here- one he hadn’t had since the battle in Hogsmeade. Someone hurt one of his friends, and Harry could finally enact revenge on their behalf immediately.

This wasn’t Luna’s dad, killed by death eaters who immediately hid from him.

This wasn’t Amelia, who took out three death eaters when she left Susan behind.

This was Bellatrix cursing Susan.

This was Umbridge hurting Trent.

This was an opportunity to immediately teach someone the error in targeting Harry’s gang, Harry’s friends.

Harry didn’t have to wait. He barely needed to hunt for them. Hermione’s attacker was in the castle, and Harry had the map to track him down.

He was going to find Gregory Goyle, and he was going to fucking kill him.

Chapter Text

Thursday, January 15

”Point me Harry Potter,” Severus hissed at his wand, following it as it had him turn down another damn abandoned corridor.

The brat was impossible to find at present time.

He was moving quickly, quietly, and furtively; a man on a mission it seemed.

“I am trying to help you, you god damned imbecile,” Severus snarled to the air.

He would not assist Harry on what he was certain was a murder mission, but he could teach the child a few difficult to trace curses before he drug Goyle to the Headmaster’s office by his hair.

It could be a bonding exercise.

The two of them could torture the mother fucking, god damned, idiot who left Granger to bleed to death in an abandoned classroom together.

It had been mere luck that led the Bloody Baron to find the girl and alert Severus of her place before she bled out on the stone floor.

And it had been the most horrifically unlucky experience of Severus’ life, levitating a topless, unconscious, bloody, teenage girl to the Hospital Wing for rapid treatment.

It had also, admittedly, been a bit more luck that Severus had taken to carrying Harry’s priceless Invisibility Cloak with him at all times, having built up a small amount of paranoia about losing one of the three items he counted on to save the child’s life, which meant Severus was able to give Granger a quick and invisible trip to the Hospital Wing with no student the wiser.

Then bad luck once more, as Minerva called for Severus and he arrived in the Hospital Wing to find all of Harry’s friends, sans Harry, surrounding a wide-awake and teary eyed Granger.

“She knows who did it,” Minerva told him, fury lighting her face. “Gregory Goyle. Go get him, bring him to Albus’ office. I’ll call for the aurors.”

Severus had looked around the others surrounding Granger and quirked a brow at Bones as he realized why the cloak had been abruptly summoned from his person less than an hour ago. “I presume I am racing against Harry?”

“You are,” Bones said, her voice hard and unfeeling. She tightened her arm around Granger’s shoulder and glanced at her before glaring at Severus. “And I hope he fucking wins, sir.”

And thus, Severus’ morning of searching for Goyle, searching for Harry, had began.

It was nearly dinner time, and Severus was no closer to finding the damned brat than he had been when he started.

Goyle was also missing, much to Severus’ chagrin.

Severus tore the Slytherin rooms apart from top to bottom, neither boy was there.

They were not in any of the classrooms when Severus searched them.

Neither boy attended any of their classes.

The teachers had not seen them.

The students were clueless.

The ghosts promised to inform Severus if they saw either student.

When Severus continued his search throughout the dinner meal, Albus approached him, flanked by Shacklebolt and a female auror by the name of Joan Foster.

“Have you found Gregory Goyle?” Albus asked, his blue eyes covered with ice and his voice fearsome.

“I have not,” Severus admitted. “I am unsure if he is still on Hogwarts grounds, he may have fled.”

“I believe he is still on the grounds,” Albus said vaguely, no doubt referencing one of the many tools the Headmaster of Hogwarts had at their disposal to protect the students. “Aurors Shacklebolt and Foster are going to search, as well as the other professors. I’m going to keep the students in the Great Hall until he is found. I want him out of my castle and in custody, immediately.”

There were not many reasons left to respect Albus, but with the cold chill that he emitted with his words, Severus felt a small amount remind him that Albus, at least, would never allow such a heinous crime to go unpunished.

As long as the victim was sympathetic, as Granger was and Severus had not been when Black nearly killed him as a boy.

“Is Granger still in the Hospital Wing?” Severus asked Albus as Shacklebolt and Foster took off immediately with their wands held aloft.

“She is,” Albus said, pity softening his words. “As are her friends, aside from Harry, who failed to appear at his morning classes.”

Severus hummed noncommittally.

“Severus.” Severus turned and met Albus’ solemn eyes and grave face. “Find them before the aurors do.”

Severus understood this to be as much of an apology for his past actions as Albus would give.

He accepted it at face value as he fled to quickly find Harry before he killed the boy and was arrested.

Severus rounded the corner and quickly thought of Harry, bright eyed and out of his mind high as he told Severus he loved him.

”Expecto Patronum.” Severus eyed the fox for a moment as he formulated a careful message. “There are aurors in the school, allow me to assist you.” He sent Harry his third message of the day and attempted to put himself in Harry’s mindset.

If he were a furious sixteen year old boy with unspeakable levels of magical power on a mission to kill another sixteen year old boy, where would he go?

’If I killed Finnigan, I would have put him in the Room of Secrets or Slytherin’s Chamber.’

As the aurors had taken the staircase to the upper floors that held the Room of Secrets, Severus ran quickly towards the girls restroom that hid the entrance to Slytherin’s Chamber.

He turned in to a new corridor and ran straight in to Black, knocking the man on his backside.

“Watch where you’re going,” Black scowled as he jumped to his feet and brushed his robes off quickly.

“I am in a hurry,” Severus hissed. “Do you know where your godson is?”

“No, and I keep trying to summon the damn map and it isn’t relinquishing itself to me,” Black said with furrowed brows. “Apparently it likes Harry.”

Severus had no idea what that was meant to mean, and he had no time to decipher it.

“Come,” Severus said curtly, resuming his quick stride towards the restroom. “I may know where Harry is.”

“I saw Kingsley on the third floor, are they looking for Goyle or Harry?” Black asked, keeping pace easily with Severus.

“Technically, Goyle. Though I believe it is one and the same at present,” Severus murmured, conscious of the portraits on the walls. He lingered outside of the restroom long enough to knock and announce his presence before slowly entering the room and releasing a breath at its emptiness.

“Over here,” Severus said. He moved to the sink with the serpent engraving on the tap and stared hard at it. He drew up his many, many, memories of Harry cursing in Parsletongue and attempted to mimic the noise.

“What the fuck was that?” Black chuckled. “Harry doesn’t sound like that.”

“Be my guest then,” Severus scowled. He stepped aside and allowed Black to approach. Black took a deep breath then let out a smooth hiss that ultimately did nothing.

“Excellent,” Severus drawled. “Truly, I am certain that is exactly how Harry sounds.”

“Why is he so damn impulsive?” Black growled, stepping away and running his hands through his hair. “God damnit, James. You bastard.”

Severus gave Black an interested look.

“Harry’s got too much of James in him, and James isn’t even here to appreciate the karma of it.”

“Indeed,” Severus agreed. He made another few, poor, attempts to open the chamber entrance before conceding in defeat. “We need—”

Imbecile.

“Mavis!”

Mavis appeared nearly instantly, his yellow eyes alert and his green robes, the only thing marking him outside of the Hogwarts elves, were pressed nearly.

“Mister Snoop is needing Mavis?” he squeaked.

“Can you take us in the Chamber?” Severus asked quickly. “Or go ensure that Harry is not in there?”

“Mavis can take Mister Snoop... but Mavis should not be taking Mister Mutt...” he said slowly, eyeing Black carefully. “Master Harry will not be wanting Mister Mutt is his nasty snake chamber.”

“Fine,” Black said, apparently unbothered. “Just—,”

Black fell silent as a silver lynx flew through the walls of the restroom and landed before him.

“We found Gregory Goyle, meet us in Albus’ office.”

Black’s eyes flew to Severus’ and they shared a horrifying moment where they seemed to be thinking the same thing:

That sounded ominous.

“We found Gregory Goyle on the seventh floor,” Albus said solemnly after Severus and Black made it from the entrance to the chamber up to his office. “He’s dead.”

Fuck, Severus thought.

“Fuck,” Black breathed.

Apparently Harry found Goyle before Severus found either of them.

“Where is he?” Black asked sharply as the fire flared green and Foster and Shacklebolt stepped out.

Severus knew he likely meant Harry, but Albus responded as if he meant Goyle.

“St Mungo’s,” Albus said. “They are attempting to contact his mother now.”

Severus had a terrible feeling in his stomach at the two aurors continued presence.

“How did he die?” Severus asked evenly.

Please be the killing curse.

They could never convict Severus’ child with his immense talent for wandless magic if it had been the killing curse.

“Goyle was killed in the same manner as Bellatrix Lestrange,” Shacklebolt said, his deep voice somber as if this were a tragedy rather than another disgusting soul removed from the earth. “Shot twice in the chest.”

Oh thank God.

The Wizengamot, as of last May when Amelia checked on Severus’ behalf, did not recognize murder with a muggle gun to be a crime.

“Finally understood what those metal bits are then?” Black scoffed.

“I do,” Shacklebolt said. “And we believe we know who shot him.”

“And?” Black sneered, remarkably resembling Regulus in the moment—

Had Severus told Black the details about his brothers death? He meant to do that at some point.

“It isn’t a crime, and I say good riddance, personally,” Black said.

Foster’s lips twitched, as if she wanted to smile, which sent a cold chill down Severus’ spine.

“It is a crime, and it now carries a life sentence in Azkaban,” she said coolly. She pulled a parchment from her pocket and slapped it on Albus’ desk. “Welcome to 1996, gentlemen.”

Severus watched as Albus quickly snatched the parchment and read it over. His stomach sank as Albus seemed to grow older before his very eyes.

“We all know who did it,” Shacklebolt said, his deep voice feeling much like sandpaper in Severus’ mind. “We need Potter.”

“The fuck you do,” Black snapped. “Go fuck yourself, Kingsley. You’ve got no proof it was Harry.”

“Do you have proof it wasn’t?” Foster asked Black, her eyes glittering with malice.

“I don’t think the defense carries the burden of proof,” Black quipped with a sarcastic drawl. “If you want to talk to Harry, you’ll only be doing it with a fucking warrant.”

“Which we have,” Shacklebolt said evenly, withdrawing his own parchment and placing it on Albus’ desk.

Severus snatched it and read it quickly. It was a true warrant for Harry’s arrest on suspicion of murder. It gave them complete legal backing to arrest and interrogate Harry.

And... and it was rather quickly obtained on no true evidence.

“Sirius, I’m sorry,” Shacklebolt said. “I know you care for the boy, but even you must see he’s gone too far. I’ve warned you this would happen. We need to take him in for questioning.”

Severus ignored Black’s heated response in favor of looking to Albus. Albus tried to kill Harry, he was undoubtedly planning Harry’s death in some small corner of his expansive mind, but...

But would he allow them to arrest Harry?

Did he even have the power to protect him?

Did anyone have the power to protect him?

Albus had never looked so old, so tired, so fucking useless, as he did in that moment. His blue eyes swung to Severus’ and Severus felt a brief brush against his barriers.

It felt much like an apology.

Do not, Severus thought back, staring hard in to Albus’ eyes. Do not. Do not. Do not.

Albus sighed and removed his glasses to rub his eyes for a long moment before he replaced his glasses and shook his head slowly at Severus. “Severus, call for Harry, please.”

Severus let a single brow express the likelihood of that scenario happening.

“Sirius, would you send a message to Harry, ask him to come here, please?” Albus said quietly, his eyes still boring sadly in to Severus’.

“No.”

It was only the sound of Black’s voice— insolent, disdainful, angry— that broke Severus’ gaze at Albus.

No?

Black now had his wand out, pointed at Shacklebolt and Foster both, even as his hand trembled lightly with either anger or fear. His eyes looked as mad as they had on the day he had been exonerated from Azkaban, and his lips were twisted in a furious snarl.

Severus never truly thought the day would come, but he too flicked his wand to his hand and pointed it at the aurors as he stepped up, shoulder to shoulder, beside Black.

“Boys, plea—”

“I am not your fucking boy, and you are not arresting Harry,” Black snarled, his words aimed at Albus, but his eyes locked on Shacklebolt. “I did it. I shot that kid. I killed him.”

“You didn’t,” Albus said softly. “Sirius, summon Harry and let us sort it out without making matters worse.”

“I did it,” Severus said. He raised his chin and looked down his nose at Shacklebolt. “Goyle attacked Granger and I shot him in retaliation.”

‘Arrest me if you dare’ was left unsaid.

“Shut the fuck up, Snape,” Black sneered. “You didn’t do it because you were here taking care of Harry. I shot that kid. He was a scummy ass piece of human waste and I killed him. I’ll accept my award and my cell now,” he told the aurors with an arrogant lilt to his voice.

Severus, unwillingly and with an extreme level of resentment, felt respect for Black welling inside him. He had always known, since the day Harry threw a knife at Black and intended to murder him and Black merely told him how much he loved him, that Black would take a curse for Harry.

It was his only redeeming quality.

And, yet, it was somehow infinitely more profound that Black would take the fall for Harry’s crime and throw himself back in Azkaban as an innocent man once more.

Severus also missed Nymphadora so strongly that it felt like a wave rocking in to his body.

She would have accepted Black’s false confession and arrested him on the spot.

“We’ll take you in too then,” Foster told Black with a placidity to her words that was undermined by her cold eyes.

Severus gripped his wand tightly, preparing to defend Black from any advances (another situation he never envisioned being placed in, courtesy of god damned Harry Potter) and felt a small shiver of magic behind him, followed by the warmth that implied the presence of a patronus.

“Harry, Severus and Sirius are in my office and they need you. If you wouldn’t mind, my password is sugar floss.”

Severus wouldn’t close his eyes, as certain as he had been that Black was inching ever so closely to being arrested, but he wanted to.

“That was purposely vague,” he snarled at Albus, his wand arm twitching with the desire to point his wand at the old man instead.

“He would not come otherwise, and I will not have two of my professors arrested for false confessions,” Albus said calmly.

“IT ISN’T FALSE!” Black yelled, spittle flying from his mouth as he spun his head around to glare at Albus. “YOU ARE NOT TAKING HARRY TO- TO AZKABAN!”

“We aren’t, Sirius, calm yourself,” Shacklebolt said slowly as he pulled his wand out. “We are taking him to the Ministry where he will be interrogated with Veritaserum. If he is innocent,” Shacklebolt’s expression did not change, but there was a twang to the word ‘innocent’ that conveyed his belief in it, “then he will be immediately returned with our full apologies. If he isn’t, he’ll stay in the holding cells until his trial.” Shacklebolt gave Sirius a sympathetic look and added in a murmur, “I would find a good barrister.”

Black was as unconvinced by Shacklebolt’s words as Severus was. Harry would be treated fairly by the new DMLE Head who Nymphadora believes to either be on the Dark Lord’s side or a sympathizer at a minimum?

Doubtful.

“Oh yeah, planning on following the rules this time?” Black sneered. “Sure he’s not just going to be tossed in Azkaban on a bunch of circumstantial evidence without a fucking trial?”

“Sirius, see reason,” Albus said. He got to his feet and Black’s wand moved, like a magnet, to point at his chest. Albus held his empty hands up placatingly. “An egregious wrong was done once before, we will not allow it to be done again. They will take Harry for questioning—” Black snarled at the words, “—and he will be given an opportunity for a trial.”

“He’s a minor,” Severus croaked. He cleared his throat and said it again. “Harry is a minor. He cannot be taken for questioning without a parent or guardian. I will go with him.”

And he would undoubtedly have to break Harry out of the Ministry once he confessed.

“He’s being accused of a capital crime,” Foster sneered, “that negates his youth. He doesn’t get daddy to come hold his hand.”

Black’s wand flew back to Foster.

The poor man truly had no idea which person in the room he wanted to hurt first.

Severus could surprisingly sympathize.

Yet, when Shacklebolt’s hand moved to his pocket once more, Severus was certain that he would be the bigger threat of the two.

“Severus, Sirius, do not make this worse.” Shacklebolt pulled a pair of navy blue magic suppression handcuffs from his pocket. “We do not want to take you all three in.”

Black let out a hysterical laugh, but then they all immediately fell silent as one of the silver trinkets on Albus’ desk lit up yellow and they all heard as Harry told the gargoyle guardians the password to enter.

Shacklebolt’s dark eyes moved to Severus’. “Severus, tell Harry to come with us without a fight and then you go get him a barrister to meet us at the ministry. I will wait one hour to begin interrogations.”

Severus and Black shared a brief look, Severus brushed the edges of his mind as his eyes seemed to be instructing him to do, and Black’s question was loud and clear:

‘Are we fighting them?’

We cannot apparate on Hogwarts grounds, Severus sent back to him. We get a barrister, we arrive for interrogations, then we fight if there are no legal revenues to save him.

Black’s arm dropped as Severus’ did a moment before there was a light knock on Albus’ office door.

“Enter,” Albus called neutrally as he remained standing.

Everyone turned as one as Harry slowly opened the door and edged inside. Harry left the door open behind him as he took in the tense postures of the five adults within the room.

“Professor Snape, what’s going on?” Harry asked. He stuck his hands in his pockets, a casual gesture to the others, an immediate sign of stress to Severus, and remained in the open doorway.

“We found Gregory Goyle,” Shacklebolt told him in his deep and soothing voice. A soothing voice that did nothing to relax any of the occupants of the office. “We need you to come with us.”

Harry scoffed, and Severus saw his shoulder muscles tighten. “Why?”

“Because he’s dead,” Foster said. “And we have a warrant for your arrest.”

“What the—” Harry slipped in to Parsletongue as his eyes flicked between Foster, Shacklebolt, and Albus. “He’s dead? How?!”

Did Harry not mean to kill him or was he simply acting for the benefit of the aurors? If it was an accident, perhaps they could get Harry out of this without having to outright duel the DMLE and taking Harry on the run.

Black seemed to be thinking the same as Severus, because Severus saw his stance relax minutely out of the corner of his eye.

“Pup, don’t say anything,” Black said. He walked quickly over to Harry and reached out for his shoulder, which Harry wrenched away as he took note of the handcuffs in Shacklebolt’s hands and rapidly paled. “Don’t say a single word right now, okay?”

“But I didn’t kill him,” Harry said. He looked up at Shacklebolt before turning to Foster, as if believing she would be the more sympathetic of the two.

Which she would not. Foster had once been a follower of the Dark Lord who was set free under cries of ‘imperius’. She was likely just as unsympathetic as Shacklebolt, who followed Albus so closely and despised Harry so strongly.

“Then you can come with us, answer our questions under Veritaserum, and we’ll clear this whole thing up,” Foster said kindly, slipping easily in to ‘good cop’ as she undoubtedly picked up on Harry’s blatant dislike of Shacklebolt.

“Or I can answer questions here,” Harry sneered, too intelligent and cunning to fall for her act. He looked from the aurors to Severus. “Can’t I?”

He could not.

If they had a warrant, then they had every law supporting their choice to take Harry to the ministry for interrogation.

“Harry.” Severus stepped up to him and put both hands on his shoulders, ducking down to look in his face. “Go with them,” he said quickly and quietly. “Do not fight them. I will meet you there in less than 60 minutes with a barrister. Do not accept Veritaserum until then. Do not speak until then. Cooperate. Do you understand?”

Do not make this worse, is what he desperately said with his eyes. Do not make it worse until I see if I can fix this first.

He should have been surprised, but he was not when he felt a tingle of Harry’s magic invade his mind and knock lightly at his barriers.

I didn’t kill him.

It was an accident?

I didn’t fucking kill him.

Severus blinked and Harry’s very agitated presence was gone from his mind.

Did Harry believe that Severus would not get him out of this, somehow, if he admitted to it? Did he believe that Severus would at any point accept Veritaserum for any reason? Because he would not. Severus would likely not have killed Goyle, had he found him before Harry did, but he didn’t begrudge the child for this murder either.

He desperately wished that Harry would have hidden the damned body, but he was not displeased that Goyle was dead.

Foster took the handcuffs from Shacklebolt and stepped up as Severus straightened himself.

“Harry James Potter, you are under arrest for the murder of Gregory Goyle.”

Harry’s entire body went rigid as he frantically looked between Severus and Black.

“I didn’t do it,” Harry said desperately. “Sev, please, please.”

“Pup, go,” Black whispered in a choked voice. “Snape’ll meet you there. I’ll get the barrister and be there within an hour.”

Harry’s hand came out of his pocket, and Severus saw a brief glint of his knife, before he quickly reached out and wrapped his hand around Harry’s wrist, keeping his hand and weapon in his pocket. He shook his head at Harry briefly as he looked up at him.

Cooperate for now. I will get you out of this somehow.

Harry didn’t whimper, as his eyes frantically flicked towards the handcuffs, but it was a closely related noise.

“Come with me and we’ll get this sorted out,” Foster said gently, causing Severus and Black both to bare their teeth at her blatant manipulation. “These are just a new formality,” she said, holding up the handcuffs and causing Harry, Harry with his long-held, deeply rooted, and fairly earned fear of police, to visibly flinch. “We don’t want anyone else to transform in to a rat and disappear, do we?” she smiled and winked.

Harry looked up to Severus and Black once more and found no empty assurances. His eyes shuttered and his abject terror was instantly replaced with a cold look in his eyes and a blank mask of boredom.

“My animagus wouldn’t be a rat,” Harry sneered at Foster. “Can I send a message to someone first, or do I get no fucking rights at all?”

“He may,” Albus said, speaking up for the first time since Harry entered his office. “Harry, send your message.”

Harry did not respond to Albus, he instead withdrew his left hand from his pocket and turned just slightly away from Foster and summoned his patronus.

“I’m twelve, but with less help,” Harry said quietly to his ‘devil ghost’. “Figure it out.” He twitched his hand again and they watched as the Tasmanian Devil scampered quickly through the walls, undoubtedly to Bones or Nott to convey the message so convoluted that Severus himself could not unravel it.

The ‘I’m twelve’ was simple enough. Harry was once more being removed from Hogwarts, but Severus could not decipher what he meant by ‘with less help’.

Harry turned back to Foster and thrust his chin out with an air of arrogance and defiance. “I suppose I’m being expelled again, huh?”

“No,” Albus said firmly from behind his desk, startling Harry and Severus both with his stern response. “Not unless you are convicted. Until then, you are on a temporary leave and free to return as soon as you are able.”

Harry snorted and his eyes glanced down towards the magical cuffs quickly before he clenched his jaw and slowly held his empty hands out in front of them.

“You’re getting a barrister?” he asked Black.

“I am.”

Harry looked over at Severus, and Severus thought he saw a flash of betrayal in his eyes.

As if Severus could keep them from taking him to the Ministry at present moment.

We cannot apparate inside the school, he mentally pushed towards Harry. Cooperate. Get the handcuffs removed. Then we flee.

Harry curled his upper lip up at Severus, blatantly furious. His voice was soft despite that fury, betraying his fear. “You- you’ll follow right behind me?”

“I will,” Severus swore. He raised a brow at Shacklebolt, “I suppose I am floo’ing to your office?”

“The visitors entrance,” Foster cut in before Shacklebolt could reply. “Sign in and meet us in the holding area. One of us will come get you to bring you back to Harry’s interrogation room. He’ll have to wait outside,” she told Harry, “you’re being arrested for murder, and you’re nearly seventeen. You don’t get a guardian in the room, only a barrister if you want one.”

Harry bit his lower lip and nodded curtly.

And then, in a moment that Severus always feared would come to pass, yet he prayed would not:

Harry was arrested.

***

Severus was pacing the length of the Ministry corridor that held the locked entrance that would lead to the corridor with the holding cells and interrogation rooms.

It had been 32 minutes.

Where the hell was Black?

Severus knew the Hit Wizards watching him pace were greatly amused. Blue Ritters had a pained grimace on his face though, his own eyes watching the clock as closely as Severus’ were.

In twenty six minutes they would begin interrogating Harry.

Severus paced and watched the clock.

Twenty three minutes.

Eighteen.

At fourteen minutes, a man came striding confidently down the corridor towards Severus. He was tall, wore crisp black robes that likely cost more than Severus made on a Professor’s salary, and had neatly combed salt and pepper hair.

“Severus Snape,” the man offered his hand, “Barrister Darrow. I’ve been retained on Mister Potter’s behalf by Sirius Black.”

“Where is Black?” Severus asked as he briefly shook the man’s hand. The man glanced at the ministry staff watching them then stared intently at him, his hazel eyes burning in to Severus’.

Severus barely withheld a sigh as he lightly legilimized the man.

Couldn’t find a lawyer that would take on his case in the ‘current political climate’. Borrowed some hair from a muggle. I’m going in, if he confesses under Veritaserum, I’m apparating him to Invisibility Way and killing anyone who tries to stop me. If I’m not back out here in less than an hour, go there. We’ll meet you there.

Apparently, barristers were the scum of the earth, as cowardly as lambs, and Black possessed much more cunning than Severus ever credited him with.

“I advised him to remain at home,” Black said smoothly, showing no interruption in their conversation. He looked over his shoulder towards the watching staff and raised a brow elegantly. “I presume one of you can show me to my client?”

“I can,” Ritters offered immediately. “Come with me, Mister Darrow.”

Severus watched as Black strutted away with Ritters, straight through the door he was unable to pass through.

Why had he not considered polyjuice?

Aah. Because Black had more experience in both subterfuge and the ways of the law than Severus had.

Obviously.

Severus resumed his agitated pacing, idly planning as he did.

He would have to retrieve Theodore, Lovegood, and Bones at some point, if they were to leave. Theodore and Lovegood were his wards, and Severus swore to Nymphadora that he would keep an eye on Bones for her while she completed her mission for him.

... would taking Bones on the run out of the country be considered good caretaking or would it be better to leave her at Hogwarts?

Harry would never go without her. So Bones would go.

Severus was considering the best places to take the child to hide, debating on how to get out of the country with the least amount of fighting, when Black and Ritters came storming back out.

Even under polyjuice, Black’s eyes conveyed his identity through their sheer madness and rage.

Severus imagined only something terrible could cause Black to return so quickly, without Harry.

Sure enough...

“He’s gone,” Black said, his voice harsh with rage and... and fear, Severus had been certain of it.

“Gone?” Severus echoed. “Gone where?”

“Azkaban,” Ritters said flatly as Black seemed unable to speak. “Thicknesse ordered him to be sent to Azkaban, pending his trial.”

Severus closed his eyes and felt his entire body freeze. “Repeat yourself,” he said softly. ”Where the fuck did you say my child is at?!”

Chapter Text

Thursday, January 14

”I’m twelve, but with less help. Figure it out.”

Susan blinked at Harry’s patronus and looked around at her friends.

“What the hell does that mean?” she hissed, waving her wand to put up Snape’s muffling spell Harry taught them.

“Harry’s being framed for something?” Theo guessed, his brows drawn and a puzzled frown on his face. “Less help? Our groups gotten bigger since he was twelve.”

Susan closed her eyes and tried to imagine what Harry wanted her to know from that message.

‘I’m twelve again’ was easy. Harry had been framed for petrifying students and was either being framed or expelled now. Both, possibly. Framed for something and then expelled, but what? Hermione identified her attacker, and Madame Pomfrey said Hermione’s knife marks matched those of Ginny and Seamus. So how could Harry possible have been framed and expelled for that?

‘With less help’ didn’t make a lot of sense though. Harry had way more allies in the castle now than he used to... In fact, Harry’s allies within the castle were beginning to outnumber any other group.

‘Figure it out’ was just annoying. Of course she would figure it out. But...

“Harry’s already gone,” Susan breathed. “He must be gone if he wants us to figure it out.”

Draco looked around quickly, ensuring the Hospital Wing was still empty, as it had been since the lockdown went in effect, before quietly calling for his house-elf, Blippy.

Blippy, a cute little owl-eyed young elf, popped in the Hospital Wing after a few moments and gazed around at them all with a smile before bowing to Draco.

“Master Draco is asking for Blippy?” he said.

“Is Harry with my mother?” Draco asked quickly, his voice hushed despite the muffling charm.

Blippy blinked and Susan knew his answer before he said it.

“No, Mister Harry isn’t being with Mistress Malfoy,” he said, cringing away like he worried that his response would earn him a punishment.

As if Susan or Hermione would stand by while an innocent little elf was hurt.

“Can you come tell us when he arrives?” Theo asked Blippy, edging off Hermione’s bed carefully. “Or, tell Draco at least?”

“Blippy can!” Blippy said eagerly. “Blippy will be watching for Mister Harry and coming back as soon as Mister Harry is at his house!”

“Thanks, Blippy,” Neville said with a kind smile and a reassuring pat of his shoulder.

“Overkill there, mate,” Ron chuckled as Blippy popped away with tears streaming from his eyes.

No one else laughed though, they just exchanged loaded glances.

“What do we do?” Blaise asked.

“Get Snape?” Trent suggested.

Hermione glanced at the Hospital Wing door and sighed heavily. “We can’t go anywhere or get anyone until they release us from lockdown,” she said. “The doors are magically sealed closed, they won’t open to anyone except the Heads of Houses and the Headmaster.”

Trent jumped to his feet and immediately tried to open the door. ”Alohamora!” he cried, tapping the door with his new wand Fred bought. “She’s right,” he said after trying and failing to open the door. He rejoined their group and gave Hermione a curious look. “How‘d you know that?”

“Hogwarts a History,” Susan, Theo, Luna, and Hermione all said simultaneously.

“What do we do then?” Ron asked.

Susan sighed and made herself comfortable in the chair beside Hermione’s bed. “I guess we wait.”

The rest of them talked quietly, trying to guess at what was going on, but Susan just kept replaying Harry’s message:

I’m twelve, but with less help. Figure it out.

He could have been a little more specific.

Also... if he’d been expelled... why had he not sent a follow up patronus? Was he too upset? Was he not alone? Why wasn’t he at Invisibility Way? It was the safest place in the world. There was no reason Harry couldn’t go straight home.

He could have been a little more specific.

It seemed to take ages until Madame Pomfrey finally bustled in the Hospital Wing and clicked her tongue at them.

“The lockdown is over. You all need to get to your beds,” she said briskly. “Miss Granger, I’m going to keep you tonight, dear. Just to make sure you get some rest. The rest of you, straight to your rooms.”

“Do you know what happened, ma’am?” Susan asked her.

Madame Pomfrey paused for a moment, her hand hovering in the air as she reached in a cabinet. Then she shook her head and pulled a vial of dreamless sleep out of the cabinet to give Hermione. “I don’t,” she said. “But they’ve ended the lockdown, so that despicable boy must be gone.”

Yeah... yeah that made sense.

Susan just couldn’t figure out how Harry had gotten framed and/or expelled in the meantime. She also couldn’t understand why Blippy had yet to return to tell them Harry had arrived home.

“Snape’s office?” Draco asked her as soon as they exited the Hospital Wing.

“Snape’s office,” she agreed.

Susan, Draco, Theo, Blaise, Ron, Luna, and Trent all ran quickly through the dark and deserted corridors to get to Snape’s office and Susan continued replaying Harry’s message in her mind.

’...but with less help. Figure it out.’

Harry must have had an audience he didn’t trust when he sent it, probably Dumbledore if he’d been expelled again, but he surely believed Susan would understand it. Harry was a bloody genius. He wouldn’t have sent a nonsensical message. So Susan needed to figure it out.

“God damnit!” Theo screamed and kicked Snape’s wall when they arrived and burst inside his office and it was empty. “Where the hell is he?”

“Probably with Harry,” Neville said softly.

“I know the password to his quarters,” Susan told Theo. “C’mon, let’s check there.”

They ran just as quickly to Snape’s quarters as they did to his office, and Theo screamed and kicked the wall again when they too were vacant.

“Sirius!” Trent cried abruptly. “He’ll know what’s going on!”

Susan would run the length of the earth for Harry, but honestly it would be nice if Snape’s living quarters and Sirius’ were nearby.

Sirius wasn’t in his office, or his damn living quarters. Susan eyed his floo thoughtfully as the others argued over what to do next. Just as Susan decided to just floo to Invisibility Way herself and look for Harry, the floo lit up and someone, a tall well dressed wizard with neat grey hair, stepped out.

He stepped out and had six wands immediately leveled at his chest.

...and one knife, because... well, Trent.

“Wha...?” The man’s eyes flicked between them before landing on Susan and lighting up. “Susan! Did you help Harry kill Goyle?”

“Excuse me?” Susan’s blood pumped at the man’s accusation. Did Harry kill Goyle?

And get caught?

No... ‘I’m twelve’ meant Harry had been unfairly expelled at a minimum, framed for something at a maximum.

‘But with less help’.

“Who are you?” Susan asked the man, ignoring his repeated question to her. “Where’s Professor Black?”

The man looked puzzled for a second then looked down at himself and rolled his eyes.

“I’m Sirius,” he said. Susan raised a skeptical brow, and the man let out a loud huff before quickly transforming in to Grim and back again.

The others lowered their wands, except Susan. She took a step closer to Sirius and jabbed her wand in his chest. “Where is Harry?” she hissed.

Sirius sighed unhappily down at her and shook his head. “Azkaban,” he said flatly. “They arrested him for the murder of Goyle.”

Susan’s breath caught in her throat as her friends went absolutely silent.

“WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU SAY MY BROTHER IS?!” Theo suddenly shrieked. “GET HIM, NOW!”

“I can’t!” Sirius yelled right back. “DO YOU THINK WE DIDN’T TRY?”

Theo screamed something else at Sirius, but Susan couldn’t understand him as her hearing went fuzzy and her vision swam a little.

‘I’m twelve, but with less help. Figure it out.’

“He didn’t do it,” Susan whispered, silencing the screaming match in the room. “Harry didn’t kill him.”

And Harry couldn’t be in Azkaban.

The dementors were in Azkaban.

Harry couldn’t be where there were dementors.

Sirius ducked down in front of Susan, putting his face directly in hers and grabbing her shoulders, shaking her a little. “What do you know?” he asked her. “Was it an accident? Was there a fight? What happened?!”

“Get your hands off her,” Ron snapped, jerking Sirius off Susan by the collar of his robes. “Harry said he didn’t do it.”

“Did you talk to him?” Sirius asked, unbothered with the way a teenage boy just knocked him down. “Someone tell me what happened, NOW!”

“He said ‘I’m twelve’,” Luna said simply, sliding up beside Susan and grabbing her hand gently. “That means he didn’t do it.”

Sirius looked around the room at the students, his eyes lingering on Theo for a long moment. “Did one of you shoot Goyle?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Theo scowled, “I’ve been with Hermione since she woke up.”

“I did it,” Susan said. She squared her shoulders and looked right in Sirius’ eyes. “I killed him. Call the aurors and tell them it was me, not Harry.”

“No you did not.” Blaise stepped in front of Susan and glared at her. “Susan, do you think Harry’s going to be pleased if you take his spot?” He turned to Sirius, “Susan’s been with us all day as well. She didn’t kill Goyle, but neither did Harry.”

“He cannot be with the dementors, you bloody moron,” Susan hissed. She pushed him aside and narrowed her eyes at Sirius. “Call them, tell them I did it.”

“Susan,” Luna whined quietly, tugging on her hand. “No.”