Let it go Snape
Barely anyone slept very much in Ravenclaw Tower that night-- Lisa was among the few who did, which wasn't very surprising for her-- and mostly everyone else in the tower stayed up in the common room, afraid to be caught alone; Anxious to hear if Black had been caught. Professor Flitwick returned at dawn to tell them, much to everyone's chagrin, including his own, that Black had escaped yet again. Harry had even checked the Marauder’s Map, nearly hopeful, but he didn’t see him at all.
Throughout the day, all anyone could see were signs of tighter security. Professor Flitwick had begun teaching the front doors to recognise a large picture of Black; Filch was bustling up and down corridors, boarding up everything from the smallest cracks in walls to mouse holes. Sir Cadogan was fired immediately, returned to his lonely landing on the seventh floor, and the Eagle Knocker had been returned to its rightful place, however, with extra protection incase Black decided he wasn't finished. A pair of surly security trolls had been placed to guard it; They paced the corridors menacingly, talking in grunts and comparing how hard they could hit eachother with their clubs.
Harry couldn't help but notice that the one-eyed witch on the third floor had gone unguarded and unblocked-- it seemed Fred and George had known what they were talking about, as not even Filch knew about it. Only the two of them, and now Harry-- and also Lisa, Padma, Luna, Ron, Hermione, and Draco-- knew about the secret passageway concealed within it.
"Reckon we should tell someone?" wondered Harry as they walked past the corridor on their way upstairs.
"Eh," shrugged Padma. "He's not getting into Hogsmeade at all, I bet."
"We'd hear that the shop was broken into," Luna smiled, as if everything was fairly normal.
Harry, although slightly doubtful, was quite glad the way hadn't been sealed. If it were, he'd never be able to get to Hogsmeade.
Ron had become an instant 'celebrity' almost overnight. For the first time in his life, people were paying more attention to him than the others, and it was obvious he was enjoying it. Though still obviously shaken up, he was more than happy to tell anyone who asked what happened in full detail.
"...I was asleep, and I hear this ripping noise. Thought I was just having a weird dream, you know? But then I was real cold-- I woke up and saw the entire front half of my robes were ripped up, and Scabbers was trying to stuff himself under my arm -- I got up to try and see what it was, and I saw him... just standing over me... like a skeleton with loads of filthy hair... he had these great big claws, sharp enough to turn me into a skeleton.... He caught me lookin' at him, and then I yelled, and he scampered.
"Why though?" Ron added as the group of second-years listening to his story dispersed. "Why'd he run?"
"Probably because you screamed loud enough for half the bloody castle to hear." said Draco as if it were the simplest thing ever, "He'd have hell just trying to get in, I doubt he'd even be able to get out the common room once you'd alerted everyone he's there. He'd have to kill the whole House to even get through the portrait, and not to mention the professors..."
“That’s morbid,” said Luna, staring into her Charms book. “And improper--"
Draco scoffed. “You don’t give half a sickle about being proper.”
Luna looked up to smile at him. “Well, you do.”
Just about two days after the incident, things were relatively back to normal. The atmosphere in the Great Hall was tense, but the chatter was as casual as could be. The school owls arrived, carrying the mail, like usual, and Hedwig was among them. Harry hadn't exactly noticed right that moment that she was there. She got his attention by nipping him sharply on the wrist.
"Ow! Oh-- thanks, Hedwig," Harry mumbled, letting her eat some of his corn flakes. He ripped open the envelope, reading the note:
Dear Harry:
How abut having tea wit me this afternon round six? I'll come colect you from the cassel. WAIT FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE HALL. YOUR NOT ALLOWED OUT ON YOUR OWN. --Cheers, Hagrid
"You're going for tea with Hagrid? I want to go! Too many people camp out in the common room-- and I'm tried of first years asking me to teach them protection charms," declared Lisa, and Padma agreed. Luna declared she had studying to do-- again.
So, that afternoon, five minutes to six, the three of them left Ravenclaw Tower, decided they'd rather not look at the security trolls, and headed down to the entrance hall. They arrived just in time to catch Hagrid entering the castle to wait for them.
"I bet Ron would've told you about Saturday night three times over if he came with us," said Padma while Hagrid led them outside. "Of course, he's right to tell everyone, and I get that he likes being popular... but Merlin, he'd tell a slug if it had the ears to listen."
"I've already heard all abou' it anyway," Hagrid told them.
The first thing they saw upon entering his hut was Buckbeak, stretched out on top of Hagrid's patchwork quilt, enjoying a large plate of dead ferrets. Lisa retched at the sight, but played it off as 'not what she expected to see.' Hung from the top of the door to Hagrid's wardrobe was a hairy brown suit and an off-colour yellow-and-orange tie.
"What are those for?" Harry asked, trying to avoid looking at Buckbeak.
"Buckbeak's case against the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures." Hagrid said, "It's this Friday. Him an' me 'll be goin' down ter London toge'er. I've booked two beds on the Knight Bus..."
Harry ignored the pang of guilt in his chest; He completely forgot that Buckbeak's trial was near, and just looking at Padma and Lisa told him they'd forgotten too. The arrival of the Firebolt and everything that happened in the recent months washed it fresh out of their minds.
Hagrid poured them all cups of tea and offered them a plate of Bath Buns, but they all knew it was better to politely decline-- they'd all had plenty of experience with Hagrid's cooking.
"I got summat to discuss wit' you lot," said Hagrid, looking uncharacteristically serious. "An' I need yeh ter tell Ron an' Malfoy 'bout it too."
"Is something the matter, Hagrid?" asked Padma.
"Yeah-- 'ermione," Hagrid said simply. "She's been hys'erical, that's what. She's bin comin' down ter visit me since Chris'mas. Bin real lonely. She said jus’ bout none o' yeh were talkin' ter her 'cos o' the Firebolt, and now yer not talkin' wi' her 'cos her cat--"
"Crookshanks didn't eat Scabbers. Hydrus had him the whole time," Harry said, thinking back to the night he found that rat underneath his comforter. He'd dare say that had been Scabbers, but it was far too thin to have been-- and Harry didn't have his glasses on at the time anyway.
"Still!" Hagrid continued. "She's cried a fair few times, y'know. Goin' through a rough patch. Bitten off more'an she can handle, if yeh ask me, all the work she's tryin' ter keep up wi'. She says you've got it harder than she does, Harry, but she doesn' wanna throw yeh off with how gud yer doin'... still found time ter help me wi' Buckbeak's case, mind.... She found some real good stuff fer me... reckon he'll stand a good chance now..."
"Hagrid, I'm sorry, we all should've helped too, I--" Harry tried.
"I'm not blamin' yeh!" said Hagrid, waving Harry's apology aside. "Yeh've had just as much on yer plate! Seen yeh walkin' the halls an' up stairs fer class an' stuff, an' practicin' Quidditch, know yeh busy! But I gotta tell yeh-- I thought you lot'd value yer friendship more'n rats an' broomsticks, that's all."
Harry had been red in the face, ears burning, and Lisa and Padma looked at eachother shamefully. He realised-- he'd spent more time quietly reading books and filling out parchment than he did actually talking with his own sister.
"Yeh wouldn' believe how upset she was when she heard Black nearly killed Ron. She's got her heart in the right place, an' she just--"
"Doesn't know how to tell us." said Lisa slowly. “Harry's the same way, we know how it is.”
"We've been trying to talk with Hermione, I swear, Hagrid!” Padma said. “She just blocks herself off from us when we do. And Ron won't even look at her-- he's too embarrassed to really say sorry,"
"Well, people can be a bit stupid 'bout their pets." Hagrid said wisely, turning to look at Buckbeak, who'd spat a few ferret bones onto a pillow. “That rat's bin in 'is family for bou' as long as him.”
"I think we should head up for dinner soon... and we've got some proper apologising to do," Padma said, standing up. Hagrid nodded, taking them back up to the castle.
When they'd gotten to the Great Hall, it was mostly empty; Fortunately, Ron had been searching for them.
"There you are!" He said enthusiastically. "Have you heard? We get a Hogsmeade trip next weekend--"
"Ron, we're not concerned about Hogsmeade right now." Lisa said strictly, leading him over to the currently-empty Ravenclaw table. "We've got something we need to talk about."
"Look, you need to get over Scabbers and apologise to Hermione." said Harry, and Ron looked at him in surprise.
"I- I know I should, but--"
"But you're too full of yourself to admit to it." Padma said, cutting him off. "We know . Trust me, you're better off getting over it and saying sorry than you are sitting in your own shame. Hermione only meant well, and you know that. She's just bad at expressing her emotions-- honestly, we're probably lucky she didn't get into a fist-fight with Harry over that broom, because we all know that never would've ended."
"I--" Ron started. "I've wanted to say sorry, really, I just can’t! She’ll probably snap at me if I tried-- I told you so, should’ve listened to me,"
"Well sometimes, egos have to suffer," Lisa concluded. "Say that you're sorry, and admit you were wrong, and we’ll have her apologise for being insensitive about your pet rat, especially since you thought he was dead. And, like, no offence, but it's not like Scabbers was any good anyways. He was closer and closer to death every time we saw him, he might as well have been dead at the start of the year. But, I will say, twelve years compared to whatever a rat's normal lifespan is can definitely take a toll."
"No, well, yes, but-- I mean--" Ron stammered. "He was disappearing out of nowhere and whenever I found him he'd had scratches and bite marks and stuff... I thought it was all Hermione's cat, and it ticked me off... I completely forgot Harry even had a snake."
"Hydrus can't scratch," Harry said. "he's only got fangs. If he used those, they'd pierce , and you'd be able to tell. If he was going after Scabbers for no reason, he would've eaten him whole... or maybe..."
He trailed off, thinking for a moment. If... Lupin was a werewolf, then maybe it was... just unfortunate in Scabbers’ case, whenever he got out... but if he got caught, then he probably wouldn't have ever gotten away.
"No, nevermind. We should go find Hermione. She's at the library, I bet,"
And she was, sitting at the table she and Harry usually studied at.
"Oh-- er, hello." She said when she noticed them, starting to pack up her books. She avoided looking at Ron.
"Hermione, I'm sorry.” Ron blurted immediately, pink from the tips of his ears to his nose, and Hermione's books fell on the table with an echoing thud.
"Er-- thank you? For being sorry, I mean..." Hermione stuttered. "It- er- h- honestly, I thought your rat was going to die one way or another, but--"
“Mione,” Harry said warningly, but Ron shook his head. "I've heard plenty of that. I'll admit, he was pretty close to kicking the bucket on his own... getting real sick. I just... wanted to think... he didn’t die on his own.”
He didn’t say a thing after that, staring at the ground and leaving with glossy eyes.
“Hermione, I think you’re really insensitive about other people’s pets,” Lisa blurted. “I mean, Lavender’s bunny, Ron’s, er, rat. You've got a track record. I mean, you’ve got a pet too, does it just... not occur to you that, like... okay, like, for them, that’s like... that’s like their Crookshanks. You do like Crookshanks, don't you?”
Hermione went red and stared at her book. “Well, I tried to apologise to Lavender, but she didn’t want to hear it--"
“Oh, I wonder why,” said Padma blankly.
Saturday morning, as Ron had said, was the day of a Hogsmeade trip. Hermione stayed behind again, only, she actually did her homework this time around; Harry really should've been doing his too, but he didn't want to spend the entire day doing nothing but Astronomy charts and trying to figure out the confusing mess that was Arithmancy. Instead, he decided that he'd use the Invisibility Cloak to get through the One-Eyed Witch passageway.
He was able to get in and out of the Ravenclaw common room with just a little trouble-- a lot of students were still wanting to know if he’d talked to Hydrus about his apparent treachery, and they’d held him up nearly twenty minutes. Nonetheless, he made his way for the third floor and pulled the cloak over his head. With a quick look at the Marauder's Map, he saw that not a single person was near.
Tossing his bag into the chute concealed by the One-Eyed Witch's hump, he took one last peak at the map. Snape was coming up the stairs. Harry was quick to shove himself down the slide. Setting the map blank, he set off at a run.
Hidden underneath hastily-made charms he did the last time he snuck into Hogsmeade, and was able to get out of Honeydukes and find his friends easily.
"Hi Harry," said Padma nonchalantly, handing a stack of galleons to the cashier of Zonko's Joke Shop. "Find anything you want?"
"Oh, yeah-- I saw these Dungbombs, and some Hiccup Sweets, and Frog Spawn Soap, an--"
"How about you just go get yourself a basket? Lisa probably knows where most of those are," suggested Padma, looking unfocused.
Lisa, like Padma said, was able to help Harry find all of the things he wanted, and a few extra.
"I put one of these in the bathroom when Mandy went to take her shower-- she had tadpoles in her hair for days!" Lisa said excitedly as they left Zonko's. "Ron's in Stitches and Draughts, and I think Draco and Luna have gone to Madam Puddifoot’s-- again . If I’m being totally honest, I think they just like the- um- relative silence. Oh, no, Luna's said she's got good tea-- you went once, didn't you, Harry? Is the tea good?"
Harry shrugged. "I didn't have any."
The day had a nice breeze, and the three of them hadn't felt like being indoors for too long. Padma suggested going to the Shrieking Shack just when Ron caught up to them. The Shrieking Shack was actually very creepy, even in broad daylight, Lisa described.
"Lisa, you find a lot of things creepy." dismissed Padma, but Harry get what she meant when they'd finally gotten up there. It was a complete contrast to the rest of Hogsmeade, the boarded windows and overgrown garden leaving it rather grim-looking.
"Even the Hogwarts ghosts avoid it-- I asked Nearly Headless Nick one time, and he says he's heard a real rough crowd stays up here," said Ron, leaning on the fence. "No one can get in, anyway. Fred and George tried, obviously, but every entrance is sealed tight."
"Hey, Harry, you might want to reapply that spell-- your eye's starting to look green again, and your hair's getting darker..." Padma warned, just as a few voices became audible nearby. Someone, if not a group of people were climbing towards the house from the other side of the hill. Harry tried to get his wand out his pocket, but they had already appeared by time he had it in his hands.
Runcorn had appeared, speaking with Spinks and Greengrass, having yet to notice them.
"Oh, him?” said Runcorn, and she laughed delightedly. “Yes, of course, my mother's set up a contract with the Yaxleys-- I'm to marry Corban right after I leave Hogwarts! Junior, obviously, as if I'd let her wed me off to that bastard of a man he calls a father. The Yaxleys were less than delighted when it was first offered, but they were completely won over the moment they saw me."
"Meli, are you sure that's really a good thing? I hear he's got seven different nationalities in his blood-- who knows if he's secretly a half-blood..." murmured Spinks.
"Oh, nonsense! His parents are the purest you can get! And anyway, he's a total darling, seriously worth keeping. He can cook, he can clean up after himself, and he really knows how to take care of a girl. He's gone to get me sweets from Honeydukes. You know, Corban's just the best-- look at this beautiful necklace he got me," Runcorn denied, showing off a silver, purple-jewelled necklace. She looked ecstatic, but her face dropped into a scowl when she saw Padma, Ron, Lisa, and someone she wasn't supposed to know.
"If it isn't Potter's Posse! What are you wankers doing here? Oohh, Weasley, you must be house-shopping! I'm afraid the Shrieking Shack's out of your league... heard your family sleeps in a cave with how little money you've got... is it true?" Runcorn mocked, making Greengrass and Spinks snort with laughter.
"Say, Runcorn, I heard your mother's gotten into some trouble with the Ministry and Gringotts... wouldn't want to see you camping out here, but I'd be nice enough to spare you a galleon." Padma snapped, mimicking Runcorn's tone.
"You tosser! My mother's business is not for you to be sticking your nose into, ratty little blood-traitor! Oh?-- Who's this? Some poor student you've dragged into your antics? Have you lot finally dumped that Mudblood-lover?" She asked, looking at Harry.
"Hey 'Meli, he looks a lot like Potter, doesn't he?" wondered Greengrass.
Runcorn hummed. "You know what, he does. What's your name?"
Harry put a hand to his throat and gestured weakly, pretending to be unable to talk.
"Eh, whatever, who cares-- anyhow, I've heard Malfoy talking about a hippogriff... that new first year, of course, what’s her name, Daph’- Cassiopeia? And how it's being put on trial... it's all she talks about. She'll tell anyone with ears about how it's going to pay the price for nearly cutting off her brother's arm. Say, do you think that giant-- do you think he'll cry when that hippogriff gets its head cut--"
Before Runcorn could finish speaking, a thick handful of mud had hit her head, and she gasped. It was barely visible in her hair, but it was very visible on her face, which was now a scarlet red.
She screamed shrill enough to crack a window, turning to look at where it came from. Harry was standing with another ball of mud in his hand.
"How dare you!"
Lisa was practically rolling, and Ron was roaring with laughter.
Harry threw the second handful, but Runcorn dodged it; Greengrass got a faceful, shrieking.
"My hair!"
"Come on, we're leaving!" shouted Spinks angrily, grabbing Runcorn and Greengrass to leave.
"This isn't over!" Runcorn screamed as Spinks dragged her away.
"Harry! Ooh, that was brilliant!" cheered Padma. "Ohh... but, uh- you may want to go back up to the castle. Maybe 'round... y'now, er- now.."
“How bad is it?”
"The charms are gone."
"While I was throwing mud at Runcorn's head?"
"Double yeah." Lisa answered, nodding.
Harry seethed. "Reckon she'll rat to Snape?"
"Probably." Ron shrugged.
Harry hummed lowly, mulling over his options. Runcorn had pretty much been dragging herself in the mud with all the stupid things she'd been doing... but not even she would throw actual mud at her own head to get Harry in trouble. And if she told Snape ? He'd be out on his arse in minutes' time.
"I'll see you guys back at the castle then," He said quickly, throwing the Invisibility Cloak over his head and nearly tripping over himself as he ran back down the trail to Hogsmeade.
He could use it to stay out of trouble. Nobody that would snitch him out knew about the Invisibility Cloak. Dumbledore knew, but would he say anything? Obviously, he'd know everything that was going on. Dumbledore always knew everything, for some reason, but he'd never had any problem before...
Into Honeydukes, down the cellar, not caring if anyone somehow saw him, across the stone floor, slipping right into the trapdoor. He ran through the slim passageway, trying not to think.
How long until Runcorn got there? She'd get there before Harry even got all the way through the passageway, he'd bet, if she was running... a sharp pain made his sides ache, and his chest was tight-- but he didn't stop running until he reached the end; The stone slide. He’d forgotten how slides work in his rush, because he half expected to slide down again, but his heart was still racing, and he was all but half aware of what he was doing. He forced himself up the chute, his hands sweaty and making him slip.
When he finally got to the inside of the witch's hump, he tapped the hump with his wand, hoisting himself out as quickly as possible. It closed just as he got his leg out, and coming out from behind the statue, he couldn't ignore the footsteps quickly approaching. Snape , he thought, slipping behind the statue. All that and he still didn't make it. Harry kept the cloak over his head as Snape's shoes came into view, and he stopped. He stared at the statue, snarling, and then took a look around and stood by the wall.
So he knew about the passageway and said nothing... and if he didn’t catch Harry in the act of returning... he was going to wait for him to return. Well, unfortunately for him, Harry still had the cloak on. He considered waiting out Snape’s patience, see if he’d simply get bored and wait until dinner to confront him, but he got a far better idea.
He snuck out from behind the statue and, after checking his shoes were clean, carefully crept to an open door down the corridor. Snape hadn’t even noticed. He entered the room and looked around, trying to think of how well he could play it off. He was sure that if he made it look very obviously as though he was practising spells, he could make Runcorn look mental.
He pulled the cloak from over his head and shrunk it before burying it in his pants pocket, and pulled out his wand. He took a deep breath, and then carefully stepped out, peering outside and putting on his best face of shock when he spotted Snape.
"So, Potter," Snape said, squinting at him meanly, and Harry saw a weird triumphant look on his face.
"So," Harry mimicked under his breath. There was little he actually had to hide, it was all how it looked; And he imagined it looked very well for him-- his hands, previously coated in mud, were now considerably 'clean' from constantly knocking into the walls of the passageway, but he could feel sweat running down his face as if he'd just came out of a rainstorm-- but if he claimed he was trying a difficult spell... maybe his Patronus...
"Come along now, Potter," Snape said.
Harry followed him downstairs, wiping his forehead and acting breathless. Going down staircase after staircase, they arrived at the dungeons, and then, Snape's office.
Harry had only been there once before, and he never wished to be there again, yet here he was. He wouldn't dare look up past the desk, unless he wanted to be sick all over the floor. Just seeing the jars made him nauseous before, and with the current conditions, he was much better off staring at his feet.
"Sit." said Snape, and Harry obliged, but Snape remained standing.
"Miss Runcorn had just been looking for me with quite the strange story, Potter,"
Harry didn't say anything, putting on his best blank expression. He suddenly remembered how he was ‘supposed’ to be practising Occlumency... well, this was definitely good practice...
"She told me that she and her friends had gone up to the Shrieking Shack when they ran into your friends, and a mystery student."
Harry bit his tongue to keep silent.
"Miss Runcorn stated she was simply speaking with Patil when a large amount of mud hit her head-on, thrown by none other than our mystery student."
Harry tried his hardest to look intrigued, meeting Snape's eyes for just a moment.
"Have you any clue what they may have looked like, sir?"
Snape stared at Harry, almost as if he were a hippogriff, and Harry forced his eyes to stay open so as to not blink.
"And then, Miss Runcorn says that the mystery student began to look different, as she looked back. Exactly like someone else. Could you imagine who, Potter?"
"No, sir, I couldn't," said Harry mockingly, trying to keep his tone somewhat respectful.
"The student happened look like you.'"
There was a long silence. Harry stared down at his wrist, and got a sudden, brilliant idea.
"I think someone ought to have a very serious talk with Runcorn," he muttered. "Maybe it’s just how it sounds to me, but I’m thinking she supposes anyone with, well, er, my... colour, must be me. And even if that’s not it, then she should see Madam Pomfrey. She's mental, especially if--"
"Neither, of those... would happen be the case, Potter," said Snape softly. "Because she was not the only one claiming to have seen you. Now, what would you be doing in Hogsmeade? You're not allowed to be in Hogsmeade. You have no permission to be in Hogsmeade."
"I'm afraid I know that, sir," Harry said, fighting back a grin. "I can't imagine how I'd get to Hogsmeade in the first place-- I'd get caught. It sounds like she's imagining things."
"Ms Runcorn was not imagining things." snapped Snape. "I'm afraid, Mr Potter, that if three students have proof that you were seen in Hogsmeade, you were in Hogsmeade."
"Sir, I assure you," said Harry, mimicking a tone he'd heard Dudley use often to get out of small troubles. "I've been practising my Patronus. That’s how you found me, innit? Practicing... a difficult spell."
Harry looked at Snape, who looked more perturbed than normal. There was a flush of pride in Harry's chest.
"Yet nobody heard you?" Snape asked, "Everyone from the Minister of Magic downward has been trying to keep famous Harry Potter safe from Sirius Black, but here it is, he can protect himself! Well then, set the dementors loose and let them roam, he knows how to cast a Patronus, because that'll protect him more than anything or anyone!"
Harry looked up at him in disdain, but kept his face blank. Snape couldn’t force the truth out of him. He wouldn't break, not after all the work he'd put into this. "I casted a silencing charm, sir. I wouldn't want to disturb the entire castle. And I didn't--"
"Quite like your father, Potter," Snape said suddenly, his eyes glinting. "He, like you, was exceedingly arrogant. A cut above the rest, he thought he was, because he had a small talent on the Quidditch field. Because he knew more than others. Strutting around everywhere he went with his friends and admirers in tow... the resemblance is uncanny."
"Sir, my dad may have strutted," Harry said sharply with gritted teeth, trying his very best to stay blank-faced, "and it doesn't mean a thing to me if he did. But, sir, I can tell you for a fact, I do not."
"Your father didn't care for the rules either," Snape continued, his face full of malice. "Rules were for lesser mortals, not for Quidditch Cup-winners. No, not for Potters. His head was so swollen that--"
"SHUT UP !"
Harry was on his feet, and the flames in the fireplace to the side of the office roared. He could take the insults. He could take Snape just being Snape . But taking a jab at one of his fathers was all too far. Snape had gone absolutely rigid, beady little eyes flashing dangerously.
"What did you say to me, Potter?"
"I told you to shut up !" Harry yelled. "I know all about how my dad saved your life, and I may not know the circumstances, or why he'd bother saving you , but I know damn well you wouldn't be here if he didn't!"
Snape's face had gone the colour of sour milk.
"You're right-- you don't know the circumstances." he whispered. "Did the headmaster tell you? He didn't tell you all of it, I see. Too unpleasant for precious Potter's delicate ears?"
"What does it matter if I don't know? I don't need to know. All I want to know is why you're so bitter about it."
"I'd hate for you to run away with some pleasant idea of your father," Snape said, a horrible grin on his face. "What, have you been imagining some glamorous act of heroism? Let me correct you-- your 'saintly' father and his stupid friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would've been fatal had he not gotten cold feet at the last minute. There was not a single brave thing about what he did. Had their joke gone through to completion, he would've been expelled from Hogwarts."
Snape's uneven, yellowy teeth were bared. Harry began to spoke-- maybe he shouldn’t have fallen for it, if he supposedly knew Harry’s father and his friends were so “terrible,” but Snape beat him to it--
"Turn out your pockets!" he spat.
Harry jumped, a sharp pounding in his ears.
"Fine," he muttered, pulling out the Zonko's bag.
“Everything, Potter.”
Harry couldn’t help that he scoffed, and he took the Map out his robes. There was no chance Snape knew about the Cloak, buried in his pants pocket. Fortunately, the map should've looked like a blank parchment. He wished he thought of it-- shrunk it down as he did the cloak. Snape picked up the Zonko's bag.
"Lisa gave them to me,” Harry lied at once. “Last Hogsmeade visit. She snuck out of Hogsmeade to get them to me. She wanted to play a prank on Mandy, but she didn't want anyone to know and I was the quickest work around. I guess I forgot about it."
"And you've had them in your pocket since? Hm.... And this?"
Snape had reached for the map. Harry held his breath, but fortunately, his memory served him right. It was blank.
"Parchment." He lied, shrugging. “I don’t really remember what I put in my pockets- what, two months ago, sir.”
Snape turned it over, watching Harry closely.
"Nonetheless... surely, parchment this old is a waste?" he said. "I may as well throw it away."
His hand moved in the direction of the still-raging fire.
"NO!" Harry quickly denied, and the flames suddenly died down.
"So!" Snape hummed, his nostrils quivering, "Another prank-in-the-making of Miss Turpin? Or is it something else? A letter, mayhaps, in invisible ink? Instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing the dementors?"
Harry kept his face blank. Snape's eyes gleamed.
"Let's see, let's see..." he muttered, whipping out his wand as he smoothed out the map on his desk. "Revelio!" he said sharply, pointing the wand to the map.
However, not a thing happened. Harry released a breath he didn't even realise he was holding.
"Show yourself!" Snape said, going at it again, but still, nothing happened.
"Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!" he said, full-on hitting the map.
This time, however, something finally appeared, as though being written by someone truly invisible. Harry bit his lip.
'Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and politely begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.'
Snape froze, and Harry had to force down a smile. The map continued going, more writing appearing underneath the first message.
'Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.'
'Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot as such could ever have become a professor.'
'Mr Wormtail bids Professor Snape a good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the greasy slimeball.'
Harry had to hide his grin by pretending to hang his head.
"We'll see about this..." said Snape softly.
He strode to the fireplace, in which he reignited the fire, seized a fistful of glittering powder from a jar above it, throwing it into the flames.
"Lupin!" Snape called, "I want a word!"
Shocked, Harry froze. In mere seconds, Professor Lupin had come clambering out the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes. Perhaps he was thinking about it far too much, but he was incredibly frightened of the possibility that he really wasMoony; especially if Harry had the map.
"You called, Severus?" he asked lightly.
"I certainly did," Snape said, his face furious as he went back around his desk. "I asked Potter to empty his pockets, and as you may see, he was carrying this."
Snape pointed at the parchment, on which all the insults granted by Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were still shining, as if written seconds ago. Harry sank into his chair, refusing to look at the look on Lupin's face.
"Well?" urged Snape.
Lupin, still silent, was staring at the map with a closed expression, as if he were doing some rather quick thinking.
"Well?" Snape repeated. "This parchment is clearly full of Dark Magic. This is your area of expertise, is it not, Lupin? Where do you suggest Potter attained such an item?"
Lupin looked up, and a half-glance his way warned Harry to not interrupt.
"Full of Dark Magic?" Lupin repeated mildly, and he had a small smile on his face. "Do you really believe so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment charmed to insult anyone who dare read it. Very childish, maybe, but dangerous is an incredible overstatement. I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop--"
"Indeed?" Snape said, his jaw clenched. "You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't find it more likely he got it directly from the manufacturers?"
Harry’s ears suddenly burned. For the most part, he’d had no clue who almost any of them were... and apparently, nor did Lupin, seeming to not have the slightest idea what Snape was talking about.
"You mean by Mr Wormtail or one of these other people?" asked Lupin. "Harry, do you know any of these men?"
"No, sir," Harry said quickly.
"You see, Severus?" said Lupin, turning back to Snape. "Looks like a Zonko's product to me--"
As if she knew the whole situation, Lisa bursted in, falling on the floor, completely out of breath. It took her a moment to manage anything.
"Harry-- Harry- finally-- oh, my things!" she huffed, before looking up at Lupin and Snape and staring at the Zonko’s bag. "I thought-- you lost it! You said-- for weeks, you couldn’t... find it..."
"Well!" Lupin said, clapping his hands together, looking quite cheerful. "That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?" he folded up the map and tucked it inside his robes, grabbing the bag of Zonko's products aswell. "Harry, Lisa, a word if you will-- excuse us, Severus--"
Harry didn't look back at Snape as they left his office. He, Lisa, and Lupin went all the way to the entrance hall before speaking, and Harry turned to Lupin.
"Professor, I di--"
"I don't want to hear explanations," Lupin said shortly, glancing around the empty entrance hall before lowering his voice. "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr Filch many years ago-- and yes, I know it's a map. I don't want to know how it ended up in your possession. I am, however, disappointed you didn't hand it in. I'm afraid, Harry, I can't let you have it back."
Harry, surprised the outcome hadn't been much worse, nodded.
"Why did Snape think I got it from the manufacturers?"
"Because..." Lupin hesitated, "because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of the school. They'd find it rather... entertaining."
"Did you know them, sir?" asked Lisa, looking intrigued.
"We've met before." Lupin said simply, looking at Harry more seriously than he could ever remember.
“Professor,” said Harry, his heart very loud in his ears, “were you Moony?”
Lupin went very pale and frowned. Instead of answering, he said, "Don't expect me to cover for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black... seriously. I would've thought what you hear when Dementors draw near would have more meaning... your parents gave their all to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them, I'd say, is gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks and pranks, and..."
He stared at the map and walked away, Harry with a deep pit in his stomach. He supposed it was a very bad time to ask, but he didn’t think any other time would give him the chance...
"Harry, I'm sorry," Lisa started. “I shouldn’t have--”
"No, he- he's right. I... haven't been considerate of all the stuff my parents did for me."
She went pink and nodded, just as Padma and Ron came bounding into the entrance hall.
"Merlin, Lisa, don't run off like that! Jeez, I almost would’ve thought you flew," Padma complained, catching her breath; Ron held a hand over his chest, trying to do the same.
"Sorry... Padma. Um, I think Harry's a bit tired." Lisa said, taking Harry up the marble stairs by the shoulder.
Padma and Ron followed closely, but they didn't know the context. When they arrived at the point which they'd split, Ron gave Harry an encouraging word before heading off.
"What happened?" Padma asked Lisa, and she told her everything she knew. Harry didn't add anything to it-- the pit, what he had now identified as shame, still bubbled in his stomach and felt as though it was getting worse and worse.
Neither Padma nor Lisa knew what to do to try and make him feel better, but he was grateful they were trying. The only thing they found they could do was apologise-- although for what, he didn't really know. He wasn't sure if they knew either.
The dorm room was empty. The others were probably still at Hogsmeade. Harry took a breath, trying to steady himself before his legs gave out-- suddenly, a noise caught his attention. Something was-- humming?
He looked over at the bookcase-- the book . Of course, he should’ve expected it. It was the only thing he had that made any noise like it. When he opened it, there was just a single message waiting to be read.
'Meet me at the Tower over the courtyard. 11, tonight .'
It was a long while of waiting for dinner, seeing as it was just past lunchtime when he’d gotten to the tower, but Harry found the food was a great moment of relief-- he was suddenly very hungry the moment he walked in. Padma and Lisa were suspiciously silent, but Harry wasn’t worry about that, for he was talking with Luna, who was very gloomy, for some reason.
The wait until it was eleven, however, felt much, much longer.
But, finally, the time came where he supposed he ought to head to the courtyard. The common room was silent and mostly empty when he went through. Using the passage between Mister Stroulger on the sixth floor to get to Anne Boelyn's portrait on the first floor, he'd gotten out to the coutyard much easier than he thought he would. It almost felt a little too easy, but he didn't see Snape pop out of one of the bushes and call him expelled.
Nonetheless, with an inexplicable excitement, Harry went up the stairway of the tower where he and Draco were supposed to meet. He was able to see a bit clearer now that he wasn't on the ground, where it had begun to get foggier the later into the night it got, and the sky, although cloudy, kept the breeze it had earlier in the day, but it wasn't too cold. It was a comforting bit of air.
This is a bad idea, Harry couldn't help but think, but he only had to wait for a few minutes before a voice came echoing up the stairwell.
"Floppy? Is that you up there?" Draco called.
"No, it's Sirius Black, git," Harry responded. "Of course it's me! Who else would be out here this late?"
"Sorry, I've been... tired today," Draco said, going to join Harry at the middle of the tower platform. He certainly looked the part-- his hair was messier than Harry had ever seen it, and he looked so pale he could've been sick. That was, admittedly, how his skin usually looked, but there was an odd tint to it that Harry just knew wasn't right. He could hardly see, but there was a purplish tone under his eyes.
"I'm sorry," Draco said abruptly, and whatever tone he had that kept him sounding elegant was gone in an instant. "I promise, I tried to stop him, but my father, he--"
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. Did he miss something?
"Hagrid lost the case. Buckbeak is getting executed." Draco said, before turning around and pacing around the platform, rambling in very quick French.
Buckbeak wasn't even that dangerous, Harry thought, as the words processed in his mind; Unpredictable, maybe, but not dangerous. But with all that's happened, the committee didn't know that. It was just unfortunate, what happened... but execution? He shook his head-- he almost didn’t believe it. He needed a minute to think... suddenly, he was aware of Draco still pacing- still talking aimlessly.
"Snowflake?" Harry called out, but he didn't get a response.
"Draco," he repeated, but to no avail. Well-- he supposed he had tried normally.
" Draco-- Malfoy! " He said, grabbing Draco's shoulders and turning him around so that they were face-to-face. For good measure, he shook him. "I can't understand a word you're saying!"
Draco went a faint pink, and for the first time in a while, his face scrunched up and he looked away. "Sorry, I--"
"Why are you sorry?” Harry asked. “What, do you just go work for the Ministry whenever we don't class?”
“What?” Draco looked at him as if he was mental. “No- you- what ?”
“Did you have your dad get Buckbeak executed? Were you, er, trying to get him executed?”
“No!”
“Well, you’re not on the committee,” Harry counted off on his fingers, “you didn’t want Buckbeak to get executed, you... are a giant ponce, but you’ve got a bit of a heart, I guess... could you just, maybe, tell me why you're saying sorry?"
"Did you not hear what I said?" Draco snapped, "You daft- you-- I said--"
"Buckbeak's getting executed, I heard you. Just give it time to sink in. But, uh, I'm not really sure what you're saying sorry for,"
"If I didn't feel bad about it, I'd've helped him-- and it wouldn't have happened at all if I had an ounce of sense and didn't call that stupid beast a--"
"You couldn't have stopped your dad if you tried. He's dodgy, poncy git-- more poncy than you. And you've got sense, most of the time, and really, it was more a thing about hippogriffs, innit? I watched that entire thing happen and not once did I see that you meant to offend Buckbeak. I know you, and I'm betting I know you better than your father does if he's really going through with this."
"What are you getting at?" Draco muttered. "My father's-- he's- he's doing what he thinks is best--"
"Did he get hurt?"
"What?"
"Did he get hurt?" Harry repeated. "Did he get attacked?"
"No, but--"
"He's a dodgy-- poncy-- git." Harry interrupted. "That's all I've got to say about it. You can't blame yourself, alright?"
"You wouldn't understand," Draco snapped. "Your parents--"
"Are dead, thanks, I had no clue."
"I meant-- you don't know what it's like! My father has- he has high expectations, and when I disappoint him, he's-- he-- it's agonising, that stupid look in his eyes and his ridiculous voice-- you failed me , and all that, and I-- I have to be perfect and if I'm not, I'm a failure!"
Harry fell silent. Draco took a very deep breath and returned to pacing.
Harry took a moment to think about his words. "You're not a failure, alright? You've got a lot of flaws, sure, but nobody's perfect. Especially not your dad-- he doesn't know a thing."
"How can you know that?"
"I'm friends with you, aren't I?"
Draco stopped and looked at him, his expression completely blank, and Harry was beginning to regret what he was preparing to say.
"I think you're perfect as is."
Draco's mouth dropped open, his face growing bright pink.
"What?"
"Look, I-- you're a lot of things. You're pompous, a little rude, a bigot, and sometimes you can be a downright jerk. But I hardly think you're a failure, or a- a disappointment-- I think... you're perfect as you are."
Draco was silent, still staring at him, and then he sat down on the steps, looking as if he were in a daze.
"Thanks," Draco finally said, his voice almost a whisper. "But try telling that to my father."
Harry sat beside him, and silence fell between them. He hadn't the slightest clue how much time passed before Draco spoke again, his voice soft and almost timid.
"I was being irrational," he said, trying to make his hair lay down.
"I think you were being perfectly rational," Harry said, and before he realised what he was doing, he took Draco's hand out of his hair. "Stop that. It looks fine. I mean, it's a bit unusual, but not bad. It's nice."
Suddenly, Draco snorted, and he dropped his face to his hands. "You're going to drive me mental."
"Oh, don't be dramatic."
"I'm not being dramatic!" Draco laughed, and he sounded more and more like himself by the second. "Merlin, you've no idea."
Harry grinned, and when Draco looked back up, he smiled as well.
"I'm going to miss that stupid creature," Draco said, and he stared at where he'd been scratched with a weird fondness. "And... thank you."
"For what?"
"Helping."
"Well, it's just right, isn't it?" Harry let his head fall on Draco's shoulder. "We're friends, right? That's what friends do."
Draco didn't answer, but when he moved his arm, it wrapped around Harry's shoulder.
"Your hair's been getting longer.” He said lowly. “Have you been doing anything?"
"No. Unlike someone, I don't touch my hair every five minutes. Actually, Hermione said the same thing, a while back. I don't think it's gotten longer since then. Has it?"
Draco audibly shrugged. "How would I know? But... It's nice, really."
"Isn't this how my hair always looks?"
"Yeah. It's nice."
"Nice?" Harry repeated, and his heart was drumming in his ears so loudly it was nearly deafening. He'd said it to Draco just a moment ago, and here he was, giddy and flustered just because Draco had said it to him. For a moment, he understood what Draco meant-- only, not it was Draco driving him insane. "Really?"
Draco paused, running one of his hands through Harry's hair. Harry felt like he couldn't breathe for a moment. "Yeah. I like it."
Harry's face felt even hotter, he was certain he was deep red, and the pit in his stomach had turned into a swarm of butterflies, making him feel sick. It wasn't until a long, awkward silence fell over them that Harry couldn’t help that he laughed.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's not funny, I--"
"No, no, it's fine-- I- I like hearing you laugh,"
It didn't help Harry's laughing fit, nearly bringing him to tears. He couldn't explain why he felt the urge to laugh in the first place, but he didn't feel like he wanted to stop. Something about Draco, something he couldn't understand, just made him feel weird; In a good way, of course... they were friends, but it wasn't in the same way the rest of his friends made him feel. As if Draco was special, but in a way he couldn't place.
Harry hadn’t ever had a good reason to think about how he felt, because as far as he knew, it wouldn’t do him any good, but, as he got this delightful feeling, he was thinking... just maybe...
Oh.
The realisation he came to made Harry want to board himself up in a cupboard and never come out. It was no longer a thought; It was a certainty.
He liked Draco.
He liked Draco, but not in the way he liked Hermione, or Ron, or Lisa, or Padma. Not as a friend, or even a best friend. He liked Draco Malfoy. He... fancied him. A crush. He'd almost go as far to say he really was mental, because there was no way this was how it felt. No way it was supposed to feel so... violent? So aggressive, and strong, and... surely there were better words for that, but he couldn't think of any...
It felt very right, yet it felt equally wrong. Harry just wanted to go to bed and sleep until he died. The chance Draco liked him, in the same way he now knew he felt, was non-existent. The possibility was impossible. Unlikely, at the very least.
They were-- friends.
When Harry finally took a moment to pull himself together, he noticed just how hot his face was. Not only that, though-- just how close his and Draco's faces were. He was very breathless.
"Your hand is... cold," Harry muttered, using one of his hands to feel the one still in his hair, though he could've sworn it was getting closer to his face.
Draco hummed, before seeming to notice something.
"You're still wearing the ring."
"What? Of course I am. It means a lot to me. You know, believe it or not, I don't really get rings as gifts that often. I meant it when I said it was a weird gift. I mean, not bad-- I just, don't get gifts like this, not ones that are so... important."
"Huh- important?"
"Yeah, to me... I mean, who gives rings as gifts... and it's- it's nice too, why'd you..."
Harry's eyes flickered over to Draco's face, and his mind went blank. He was so close-- so close he could've...
"You're pretty," Harry blurted, and the butterflies in his stomach exploded, spreading warmth throughout him.
"Pretty?"
"Very."
Harry's head was spinning, and he forced down a smile- he couldn’t believe his own courage. He’d only become aware of his feelings a moment ago, yet here he was... Draco's hand was on his jaw, the other was still in his hair.
Draco sighed, cursing under his breath, before looking back at Harry. His face inched closer, and Harry's heart was probably beating so loud Draco could hear it too. His face was practically burning now, and he couldn't even keep his breathing at a steady pace-- it'd be more surprising if Draco didn't know, really. This had to have been a tease, or something.
"Can I?" Draco breathed.
"Please," Harry answered, more breathless than he thought he was. It was a long moment, of them staring into eachother's eyes, and then, at the same time, they moved even closer, and it finally occurred to him just what was happening, as their lips touched, and for a moment, everything felt right.
They were kissing.
Even the thought felt ludicrous, and near-impossible, yet here the situation was, happening! And he liked it-- really, how could he not? Hell-- he'd say he loved it. He didn't ever think-- he'd kiss anyone at all-- a boy, even-- but he enjoyed it so, so much, no matter how weird it felt.
His thoughts were cut short when Draco pulled away, his hands slipping away from Harry's head, looking... embarrassed, almost.
"What?"
"You kissed me back." Draco said, almost breathless, and he didn't look him in the eye.
"Yes, and?"
"Nothing, it's nothing," Draco muttered, smiling, and he tangled his hand back into Harry's hair, kissing him again.
This one felt more real, less hesitant, and Harry was able to kiss back properly, holding Draco's face gently.
When they pulled away, this time, Harry couldn't help that he laughed. "What'd you mean, I kissed back?"
Draco's smile got larger, and he snorted. "I didn't think you would! Merlin-- you're horrible at kissing."
"Oh- whatever," Harry's own smile was beginning to hurt now, but he hardly minded. "Why would I not?"
Draco took a long breath, shrugging. "You're awfully daft. I supposed you didn't even know I fancied you."
"Well, you're not wrong. I didn't know I fancied you until a few minutes ago."
Draco burst out laughing, and he put his forehead on Harry's shoulder. "Merlin, you're ridiculous-- a few minutes ago? What, were you just sitting here thinking, 'Hm, nice moment, I think I'd like to kiss him right now?' You’re telling me-- you realised, and then same minute, you started flirting with me?"
"Basically."
"You're manic."
"I am," Harry smiled.
Draco looked at him and shook his head.
"Nevermind manic, you're impossible. I've no clue how anyone puts up with you."
"Yet here you are," Harry said, leaning into Draco, "tolerating me."
He rolled his eyes. "Somehow."
Harry found that, despite the fact they were sitting on a cold staircase late into the night, he wasn't entirely opposed to it. He felt very warm, actually, and it wasn't a numb kind of warmness-- and for a while, everything felt very fine.
He shrugged off the thoughts at the back of his mind that were nearly ruining his mood-- it felt wrong, to be happy in the moment. But he decided to not think about any of it for now. There was a lot to think over, really, but it had been a long enough day... that was for tomorrow... all of that, was for tomorrow. And it wasn't tomorrow yet; It was now. It was a very special moment, and he would have it.
A moment that he would have now.
He deserved to have this moment now.