Nearly

Harry walks quickly across the Common Room and yells the current password at the wall. 

Does it always take this long to rearrange itself? he thinks frantically, shifting restlessly from foot to foot as he wait. 

As soon as the doorway is wide enough to squeeze through, he does and runs the rest of the way down the dungeon corridor to Professor Snape’s door and pummels it with his fist. 

He can hear running footsteps behind him and knows Draco has followed him, but before he can turn around and tell the other boy to go back to bed, the door swings open and Professor Snape is towering over him with a murderous scowl on his face. Harry swallows hard and steels himself.  

”Professor”, he says. ”Sorry to w-wake you—”

”Harry? What is the meaning of—?”

”Please, professor, there isn’t time! You’ve got to help! Someone’s been hurt, badly—!”

The man’s sleep-swollen glare smoothes out immediately and he secures the cord around his dressing gown, before ushering Harry in front of him with grim determination. 

”Who? Where?” He asks, already striding towards the Common Room. 

”Not here!” Harry exclaims. 

Professor Snape stops abruptly and wheels around to glare at him once more. 

”I-I c-can explain!” Harry says. 

”Sir”, Draco pipes up anxiously next to them. ”I-I don’t think Harry is well, he woke up from a nightmare and he seemed really confused a-a-and—”

”It wasn’t a dream!” Harry exclaims in frustration. ”It was real — mister Weasley’s been seriously hurt — attacked — by a snake, I’ve just seen it happen!”

”What?” Professor Snape hisses sharply. 

”I swear it’s true, Sir”, Harry begs, feeling the prickly of frustrated tears. ”Please believe me! He’s bleeding out — he’ll die, if we don’t do something!”

”All right…” Professor Snape murmurs. ”Calm down—”

”I can’t calm down! Don’t you understand — he’s going to die! AND IT WILL HAVE BEEN MY FAULT—!” 

Professor Snape lurches forward and before Harry has registered what’s happened, the man has wrapped both arms around him stiffly and is holding him in a loose embrace. Harry hesitates for a split-second, then cautiously leans his forehead against the man’s chest and it’s not until he feels the thudding heartbeat against his own throbbing scar, that he manages to suck in a shuddering breath, that clears his head slightly. 

”Let’s go see the Headmaster”, Professor Snape says seriously and releases Harry again. ”Draco, you may as well come too…”

Professor Snape sets off towards the spiral staircase with great long strides and Harry and Draco almost have to jog to keep up with him, and despite this the trek to the Griffin statue that guards the entrance to Dumbledore’s office seems to take them forever. But finally they stop in front of the massive gargoyle and Snape snaps, ”Fizzing Whizzbee!”

Immediately the Griffin springs to life and steps aside to reveal the revolving spiral staircase and Snape quickly ushers both Harry and Draco in front of him. The three of them travel upwards in the same tense silence that had trailed after them all the way from the dungeons and it’s so complete, so dense, that when Snape grabs the knocker on Dumbledore’s door and bangs it three times, Harry flinches. 

The door swings open and Snape gently pushes Harry and Draco over the threshold, before following himself. 

Harry’s gaze flickers over the many snoozing portraits lining the walls and then comes to rest on Fawkes, the phoenix, that sits on his perch, sleeping with his head tucked in under one of his massive wings. 

”Ah, Severus… and… oh…”

Harry tears his eyes away from the bird again and locates the Headmaster sitting slightly hunched down in the straight-backed chair behind the massive oak desk. His head is bowed and he is peering curiously at Professor Snape over the rim of his glasses. 

”Headmaster”, Snape greets him swiftly. ”Harry has just had a… a vision…”

”I see…” Dumbledore murmurs, gazing down at his own stapled fingers. ”Harry, m’boy, please tell me all about it…”

”Well, I… I was asleep in my bed… and I was dreaming, something different, it doesn’t matter… but then the dream changed and…”

He trails off, flustered and shifts his feet. He’s aware of how it sounds, there’s no way the Headmaster is going to believe him… He’s not even looking at me, he thinks, feeling a stab of annoyance.

”And then what happened?” the old man prompts gently, now gazing up into the ceiling. 

Harry purses his lips in annoyance, but at Snape’s sharp look he begins to speak again. 

”Well, I saw mister Weasley, sitting on the floor in some place, I don’t know where… and then he… well, he was attacked, by a giant snake —”

Dumbledore’s eyes finally snap to Harry’s face and he leans forward into the sphere of light from the candles upon his desk and studies Harry closely, but — Harry can’t help but notice — he still doesn’t quite meet his eyes. 

”How did you see this?” he asks softly. 

”I don’t know!” Harry snaps angrily. ”Inside my head—!”

”No, you misunderstand me”, the old man says calmly. ”I mean — can you remember where you were positioned in the dream while you were watching this happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or maybe looking down on the scene from above—?”

”No”, Harry mutters, feeling his stomach churn unpleasantly again as he remembers the taste of blood. ”I was the one who — I was the snake, I — I saw it from the snake’s point of view.”

”I see…” Dumbledore says in an even softer voice, barely above a whisper. ”And is Arthur seriously injured?”

”Yes!” Harry exclaims. 

Why are they all so slow on the uptake? Don’t they realise we’re wasting time? Don’t they know how much a person bleeds when fangs that long and sharp have sunk into their side? 

And why the hell isn’t Dumbledore looking at me? — Does he know? 

Harry’s heart begins to hammer harder and harder inside his chest. 

He knows. He knows it was me, that I did it —

Dumbledore pushes to his feet with such sudden speed, it makes both Harry and Draco jump, and he turns swiftly to the portraits of a sallow-faced wizard with dark hair and an elderly witch with light-grey ringlets, hanging side by side near the ceiling.

”Everard — and you too, Dilys!”

Both portraits, who one moment appeared to be in the deepest of sleeps, immediately snaps their eyes open and stare back at Dumbledore. 

”You were listening?”

”Naturally”, the witch says, while the wizard nods his head. 

”The man has red hair and glasses. You will need to raise the alarm — make sure he is found by the right people!”

Both portraits nod, before moving sideways out of their frames. Harry expects to see them reappear in the neighbouring portraits, as usual. But they don’t. 

”Everard and Dilys were two of Hogwarts’s most celebrated Heads”, Dumbledore says, sweeping around his desk to stand next to Fawkes’s perch. ”Their renown is such that both have portraits of themselves hanging in other important wizarding institutions. As they are free to move between their own portraits, they can tell us what may be happening elsewhere…”

”But mister Weasley could be anywhere”, Harry says, feeling hopelessness weigh him down while at the back of his mind, a cruel voice whispers, murderer, murderer, murderer —

”Please sit down, all three of you… Everard and Dilys may not be back for several minutes”, Dumbledore says, then strokes the phoenix’s head with one gentle finger. 

Fawkes stirs awake and raises his head to gaze back at Dumbledore. Harry is struck by how similar their eyes are, somehow — old and wise, and a little sad — and he wonder exactly how old Fawkes is… and how old Dumbledore is, for that matter. 

”We will need… a warning”, the man tells the bird quietly. 

There is a flash of fire and then Fawkes is gone. Dumbledore springs into action once more, striding over to one of many silvery instruments littered around the office and picks it up. He carries it over to the desk and sits back down in his chair, before tapping the instrument with his wand. It whirrs to life with a tinkling noise and puffs of pale green smoke begin to issue from a small tube at the top. 

Professor Snape is watching Dumbledore with sharp eyes, but as if sensing Harry’s gaze on him, he turns to meet it and then, as if realising too late that there is nowhere for Harry and Draco to sit, he conjures up two chairs for them out of thin air. 

Harry and Draco exchange an uneasy look, but gingerly sit down without a word. Professor Snape remains standing in between them, watching Professor Dumbledore and his weird silver instrument eagerly once more. 

The tiny puffs of smoke have now turned into a steady stream of thick smoke that coils in the air, and suddenly the end of it morphs into a serpent’s head that opens its mouth wide, baring its sharp fangs… 

”Naturally, naturally…” Dumbledore murmurs. ”But in essence divided?”

Harry frowns. What kind of a weird question is that? And who is he even talking to?

The smoke snake splits into two smaller snakes that continue to coil and twist in the air. Dumbledore leans back with a slightly satisfied look on his face, then gives the instrument another tap with his wand and it quiets down again and the smoke slowly fades away. 

Harry has no idea what is going on and what the weird smoke snakes were meant to symbolise, but he can tell that whatever it is, it’s something serious, because Professor Snape is standing stiff as a board between his and Draco’s chairs and Dumbledore is doing a very good impression of someone who isn’t worried at all, but the lack of a twinkle in his eye gives him away. 

Harry always found that twinkle to be annoying, but now he would give anything to catch a glimpse of it, to have Dumbledore pin him with a twinkling look over the rim of his half-moon spectacles in that way of his that makes you feel like you’re missing something and he’s silently making fun of you for it… but now, the old man won’t even look in Harry’s direction. 

The tense silence is suddenly interrupted again when the wizard called Everard returns to his portrait and slumps against the back of the chair, wiping the sweat from his balding forehead with the curtain behind him.

”What news?” Dumbledore asks. 

”Found him”, the portrait pants and collapses into his chair. ”You know, there aren’t any portraits down there to watch from. But I yelled until someone came running. Said I heard something moving downstairs. They weren’t sure whether to believe me, but they went down to check. They carried him up a few minutes later…”

”And?” Dumbledore prompts. 

”He doesn’t look good”, the portrait says and shakes his head mournfully. ”He was covered in blood and—”

”Headmaster”, Professor Snape says suddenly. ”Perhaps I should take the boys back to the dorm?”

At that moment, the silver-ringleted witch reappears in the neighbouring portrait, also sweating and panting heavily. 

”They’ve taken him to St Mungo’s”, she says importantly, before dissolving in a coughing fit. 

”Good”, Dumbledore says. ”Thank you, both—”

”He’s in a bad way”, the witch adds grimly. 

”Yes, well”, Snape snaps. ”Dumbledore?”

The Headmaster’s pale blue eyes flicker between the portraits and Professor Snape. 

”We’ll need to send for Minerva”, he says. ”And the Weasley children ought to be woken—”

”I will alert Minerva”, Snape says, before adding pointedly. ”After I’ve returned Harry and Draco to the dorm.”

Dumbledore seems to hesitate for a second, but finally he gives Snape a small nod. 

”But Severus…” he says as soon as the Potions Master clamps a hand down on Harry’s and Draco’s shoulders. ”Remember that thing we discussed?”

Harry feels the fingers digging into his shoulder tighten slightly.

”Yes”, the Potions Master says shortly. 

”I think… tonight’s… events have rather made the decision for us”, Dumbledore continues cryptically. 

Harry catches Snape’s quick sideway glance in his direction and bristles. They’re talking about me! They’re talking about me like I’m not even here and DUMBLEDORE STILL WON’T BLOODY LOOK AT ME!

White hot rage rears inside Harry and for a moment, only a split second really, as pain explodes in his scar once more he feels like the snake in his dream again. He pins Dumbledore with glare and the urge to strike wells up inside of him like bile, like blood, like —

The hand on his shoulder shakes him and he blinks. Professor Snape is gazing down at him steadily, his dark eyes unreadable. 

”Come on, I’m taking you back to the dorm…”

The next morning, Harry and his friends try their hardest to pretend everything’s normal and Seamus and Pansy in particular try to maintain a lighthearted stream of chitchat throughout breakfast, but it’s slightly negated by the obvious lack of redheads over at the Gryffindor table and every time Harry looks up from his bowl of porridge he is reminded of another redhead, spurting blood and screaming in pain…

He swallows convulsively, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get the taste of blood out of his mouth. He feels sick. What is wrong with me? 

Part of him wants nothing more than to go home for Christmas and cuddle up with his dads in front of the tree and pretend nothing is wrong at all, but he knows he won’t be able to forget and besides, he needs to tell his dads about the dream and about what he experienced afterwards in Dumbledore’s office, because he needs to know what they think is going on — even if it means revealing to them that he somehow travelled from Hogwarts in his sleep and turned into a snake that attacked, and possibly killed, one of their friends… 

And nearly attacked another one, a small voice in the back of his mind pipes up, before flashing to the moment when he wanted to strike Dumbledore as well… 

The thought of his dads recoiling from him in horror is enough to turn Harry’s stomach inside-out, but it can’t be helped. He needs to tell them everything. Because he needs them to help him understand, and to tell him things will be all right. 

Oh please, let things be all right…

But before he gets to go home, there’s one more thing he needs to do… and that is talk to Draco about his father. He’s been putting it off all year, telling himself that it’s better to wait for the other boy to bring it up when he’s ready — but he’s also promised himself that if Draco still hasn’t said anything before the Christmas hols, then he himself will bring it up whether the blonde is ready to talk about it or not. Because, frankly, Harry needs to know if it’s safe for Draco to go back to Malfoy Manor for Christmas. 

For all he knows, Lucius might have invited Voldemort himself over to celebrate the holidays… 

Harry is momentarily distracted by the absurd mental image of Voldemort dressed up as Father Christmas, handing out presents to a bunch of eagerly awaiting Death Eaters, and snorts to himself. 

”What are you laughing at?” Draco says and looks up from his Potions book with a mildly curiously arched eyebrow.

”Nothing”, Harry says quickly. ”Just thinking about… Christmas.”

”Christmas”, Draco repeats drily. ”Hilarious…”

He returns his focus to the Potions book and flicks the page idly, before letting his slender fingers skim over the page, searching the text for something. When he finds it, he pulls a piece of parchment closer and scribbles something down with his quill. 

”Is that the essay on undetectable potions?” Harry asks dully. 

Only Professor Snape would set an essay to be handed in on the first day back after the Christmas hols, and only Professor Snape would ever think to set said essay on ’Undetectable Poisons and How to Detect Them’, Harry thinks wryly. And, he adds to himself with a mix of exasperation and fondness, only Draco would spend the last evening at Hogwarts working on that essay, instead of putting it off to the last minute like any other fifteen-year-old would do…

The blonde lets out an affirmative hm that confirms his suspicion, but doesn’t look up from the book again. For a second, Harry feels a stab of guilt at the thought of his own pile of uncompleted homework and considers taking a moment to complete at least one or two of the essays that were set weeks ago. 

But then he remembers the talk he needs to have with Draco and decides that that is more important, not to mention urgent. 

”Draco…” 

”Mmm…”

”Put the book down for a sec…”

”Why?” Draco mumbles, jotting down another note on the parchment next to him. 

Harry waits for him to finish whatever he’s writing and once the quill stops moving, he says, ”I want to talk to you… about something…”

Draco frowns slightly, but keeps staring down at his parchment, seemingly skimming over his own notes. 

”What?” he asks absent-mindedly.

”About… erm… last summer—”

The blonde’s head snaps up and his widened eyes flicker between Harry’s own. Harry swallows thickly, then forces a small smile onto his face. The frown on Draco’s face deepens, but some of the tension drains out of his shoulders again, so at least Harry knows he won’t bolt any time soon. 

”You know how you said you… erm… you talked to your father last summer? Before you went to France with you mum?”

”Yeah?”

”Are you… I mean…” Harry falters. 

”What?”

”Are you… okay?”

”Am I okay?” Draco repeats nonplussed. 

”Yeah, I mean, to go home for Christmas? I mean, is it… safe… there?”

Realisation flickers into Draco’s eyes and the frown smoothes out slightly again. 

”Because if you’re not… you know… sure — that it’s safe, I mean — you could come home with me! My dads won’t mind, at all, I’m sure, in fact it would be great — we could decorate the tree together, and help Remus cook, and we could even make a gingerbread house — that’s a bit dorky, I know, but it’s kind of fun too—”

Draco reaches out and covers Harry’s hand with his own gently, and Harry immediately stops babbling and snaps his mouth shut. A small, grateful smile flickers onto Draco’s face. 

”Thank you”, he says sincerely. ”But I’ll be fine.”

”Oh… you’re s-sure?”

”Yes, I’m sure”, Draco says firmly. ”And as… lovely, as all of that sounds… I couldn’t leave mother alone on Christmas. I mean, she’ll have father, of course, but… just in case he gets called away, you know.”

Draco looks away again and starts rolling up his notes for the Potions essay.

”Called away?” Harry repeats carefully, feeling a heavy weight settle in his stomach. 

”For work”, Draco says curtly, but he avoids Harry’s eyes as he says it. 

”Right”, Harry says. ”Well, consider it an open offer, in case anything happens to change your mind.”

Draco keeps his eyes averted, but Harry catches another tiny smile on his face.

”Or, you know, if nothing happens but you still change your mind”, Harry adds. 

”Yeah…”

”I hope you will”, Harry presses. ”Because I’ll miss you.”

The smile on Draco’s face widens then and he turns his face towards Harry again. His eyes are like frost on a sunny day and being in their crossfire, Harry feels a little short of breath at the beauty of it all.

”It’s only two weeks, dorcus…” 

”Yeah, I know, but still…”

”I know”, Draco amends softly, scooting over the small space between them on the sofa. ”I’ll miss you too.”

”You will?” Harry says, sounding pathetically hopeful even to his own ears, but Draco’s smile only softens further as he nods. 

”Maybe when we get back… we can sneak you into the Prefect’s Bathroom again…” he murmurs suggestively, then leans in slowly to brush a feathery kiss against Harry’s jaw. 

”Y-y-yeah…” Harry gasps. ”Maybe…”

Draco pulls back again with a smirk, then quickly dips his head and captures Harry’s lips in a searing kiss. 

*

Harry’s dads come outside to meet him as usual and he hugs them both, first Sirius and then Remus, and as soon as he’s got his daddy’s strong arms wrapped around him like a vise, Harry eagerly burrows into the man’s chest. Immediately he feels Remus bury his face in his hair and snuffle happily, but when he begins to pull away again, Harry clutches the back of his pyjama top desperately to keep him close and mumbles, ”Not yet…”

Remus tightens his arms around him once more, but murmurs ”Let’s just go inside, cub…” 

He feels Sirius’s fingers card through the hair at the back of his head, adding that extra bit of comfort and he nods his head with a sigh, and lets go. Sirius fingers disentangle from his hair again and the hand settles heavy and comforting on the back of his neck. Harry welcomes the weight there, it anchors him and he allows himself to be steered inside the cottage and then into the living room, while Remus makes a detour to the kitchen. 

Sirius settles on the sofa and pulls Harry down next to him, curling a strong arm around his shoulders and hugging him into his side while they wait for Remus to join them. When he does, he’s got three steaming mugs of cocoa levitating in front of him and he guides two of them over to Harry and Sirius, before grabbing his own and squeezing down on Harry’s other side on the sofa.

Book-ended by the two older men in their cuddliest pyjamas and cradling the sweet-smelling drink, Harry takes a deep breath and begins to speak. 

Neither of his dads say anything throughout the story, but Sirius’s arm tightens around him and Remus nestles his fingers in his hair, petting him comfortingly when he starts to describe the attack itself and the unsettling experience of being the snake, of striking, of feeling warm blood flood his mouth… 

”I was the snake”, he repeats, then falls silent finally, unsure of how to proceed. 

”It sounds awful”, Remus says softly.

”No — I mean yes, but — you don’t understand”, Harry shakes his head in frustration, dislodging the man’s fingers in the process. ”I was the snake. I was the one who attacked him. And it wasn’t a dream. They found him. He really was attacked—!”

”I know, cub…” Remus says soothingly. ”We heard.”

”He’s going to be alright, though”, Sirius cuts in. ”They found him just in time and took him to St Mungo’s—”

”But…”

”—You may have saved his life.” 

”But… I…”

”What’s wrong, sweetie?” Remus asks and squeezes the back of his neck gently.

”I… I think I’m going mad, or something… in Dumbledore’s office, after, I… for a second, I thought I was a snake and I… I wanted to attack him too!”

Neither of the men say anything for a second and Harry feels the silence like heavy, suffocating blanket. He imagines he can hear his own heartbeat, steady and slow, but also hard and loud… freak-freak-freak…

”What if… what if I… what if it was really me”, Harry chokes out, before he quickly cuts himself off and bites his lip to stop any sobs or whimpers from escaping him. 

When Sirius gently pulls his arm away from him, Harry’s heart begins to pound in earnest… freak-murderer-freak-killer-freak-monster-FREAK—

”Sweetie…” Remus murmurs and gathers him into his arms and hugs him tightly. 

”It must have been the aftermath of the dream, or whatever it was”, Sirius says reasonably. ”I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about—”

”No”, Harry chokes out and shakes his head wildly, pulling away from his daddy’s embrace slightly in his anxiousness to make his dads understand. ”No, it wasn’t that — it was like — like something rose up inside me — like there’s a snake inside me!”

”Shhh…” Remus hushes him softly and pulls him back into the hug, rubbing his shaking shoulders gently. ”It’s all right… you’re just in shock, you’ll be fine…”

”There’s no snake inside you, Harry”, Sirius says quietly after a moment and kneads one of his shoulders.

”But—”

”I’m sure it felt like it”, Sirius hurries to add. ”But that’s just a feeling, it isn’t real…”

”Your dad is right, cub”, Remus murmurs. ”There’s no way you could have attacked Arthur, when you were in your bed at Hogwarts, over five hundred miles away. Right?”

”But… but in Dumbledore’s office…”

”Like Sirius said, it was probably a combination of shock and some lingering effects of the dream… that’s all…”

”It felt so real though…” Harry mumbles stubbornly. 

But even as he says it, his dads’s words settle into his mind and he realises that they’re not just trying to make him feel better, it’s actually the only thing that makes sense. 

”I know, pup”, Remus says. ”And the feeling might have been real, but you’re not a snake Harry… nor do you have a snake inside you… now have some chocolate and I’m sure you’ll feel better!”

As much as Harry and Sirius sometimes make fun of Remus and his overconfidence in the magical powers of chocolate, on this particular occasion he’s right. A few sips of chocolate, with his dads’ arms around him and Christmas carols playing on the Wireless, Harry actually begins to feel better. 

So much better in fact that he really doesn’t want to spoil it and ruin the festive spirit by invoking his dads’ wrath by finally telling them about his detentions with Umbridge, even though a small voice at the back of his mind (sounding suspiciously similar to one Professor Snape), keeps reminding him that the longer he puts off telling them, the worse he’ll feel when he finally does. 

I’ll tell them after Christmas, he thinks and pulls his sleeves over his hands again. 

*

He wakes up on the morning of the 25th to find a rather large pile of Christmas presents at the foot of his bed and eagerly sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, before reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. He immediately spots four presents with his daddy’s handwriting on the labels and, rifling through the others quickly, he makes a mental inventory of the different handwritings on their labels as well, then lines up the the ones from his friends with the four from his dads, neatly along the footboard, before reaching for the two remaining ones. 

He checks the handwriting on each of the labels again, but he still can’t place either of them. The one on the larger present he thinks he might have seen at least once before, but for the life of him he can’t think of where. 

Ah well, he thinks with a shrug and begins to tear the wrapping paper off. Woolly fabric immediately spills out and Harry blinks. Grabbing the material and shaking it out, he instantly realises that it’s a knitted jumper and whoever sent it probably knitted it themselves. 

It’s alright though, Harry thinks as he critically eyes the design of a golden Snitch on the front. It’s very well-made and the wool seems soft, not itchy. He pulls it on on top of his pyjamas. It fits perfectly. 

Reaching for the second present with unfamiliar handwriting, Harry glances at the label again. This handwriting he’s sure he’s never seen before. The gift is a lot smaller than the first one and it’s not clothes, because it’s not squishy enough. 

He rips the wrapping paper off and something falls out that is approximately the same colour as his skin in summer and when he picks it up it feels rubbery between his fingers. A closer look at the thing in his hand tells Harry that it’s a fake ear, but he’s not quite sure why it’s got a long tail… he holds up the end of it and takes a closer look. The tail, or whatever it is, is hollow like a tube. But what it’s meant to be used for, Harry has no idea. 

Checking the discarded wrapping paper again, Harry discovers a note. 

”Happy Christmas Harry!

This is an Extendable Ear — one of our own inventions! You simply pop it in and place the Ear end wherever you wish to eavesdrop, works like a charm!” 

Harry huffs out a laugh as the handwriting changes slightly mid-sentence. 

”Work BETTER than a Charm!”

He can picture the Weasley twins perfectly, fighting over the quill the way they fight over conversations in real life, taking turns speaking or simply speaking over one another. 

”Hope you have a lovely holiday and all that — don’t feel you need to wear mum’s jumper in public or anything. See you at Hogwarts!

F o G”

So that’s who knitted him the jumper. Harry glances down at the Snitch on his front. Mrs Weasley. But why? She’s never given me a Christmas present before. I’ve barely met the woman!

He shrugs again and begins tearing into the presents from his friends instead. Seamus and Theo’s boxes are filled to the brim with sweets from their hometowns, and Seamus has even included a small bottle of fire-whiskey, that Harry quickly hides in his bedside drawer, before Remus catches him with it. 

Pansy and Daphne have gone halfsies on a beautiful golden tie pin, decorated with a solitary gemstone made to look like a Snitch, with a pair of wings engraved on either side of it. 

Blaise on the other hand has gone for a book of some sort, by the feel of it. Harry frowns, turning the small present over a few times in his hands. It’s a little weird that his friend would choose to give him a book… not that he doesn’t enjoy reading, but all his friends know what a bookworm his daddy is, so they should know by now that there will be no shortage of books in his present pile. But maybe it’s a really rare book, Harry thinks and plucks at the Spellotape. 

As soon as the wrapping paper is off, not one but two books tumble into his lap and not only that, but a glass phial as well. Harry blinks in surprise and picks it up. It’s half the size of the books and rather flat, which would explain how it managed to stay hidden between the books without Harry realising it was there. The label reads: ’Wild-Strawberry-Flavour’d Slick™’

Slick? What’s that? Some sort of specialty Potions ingredient? Harry thinks bemused and turns the bottle over. 

”With over a hundred-and-seventy years experience, Slick™ is still the No.1 provider of High Quality lubrication—”

Harry flinches so suddenly, the bottle tumbles from his hands and lands with a soft thump on top of the two books Blaise has including in his present. Feeling like his entire face has suddenly caught fire, Harry cautiously inserts an index finger under the top one and gives it a decisive flick. The book flops over and the front cover glares back at him with its tauntingly bright letters: ”Chaser & Keeper: a tale of forbidden love” 

Swallowing a groan, Harry snatches the second book from its hiding place beneath the first. A similarly cringe-worthy title is embossed across the front of this one as well, the letters even brighter than those on the first. 

A gentle knock on his bedroom door startles Harry and he drops the book in his haste to hide it. 

”Merry Christmas!” Sirius calls out happily from the other side of the door. ”Harry? You up yet?”

”Y-yeah, one sec!” Harry calls back and scrambles to hide the two books and the bottle of lube under the the pile of wrapping paper. 

The door slides open and his dad sticks his grinning head through. 

”Good haul this year?” 

”Yeah”, Harry says bracingly. ”I’m, er… I’ll open the rest in the living room, I’ll just be a sec…”

Sirius nods happily, but instead of shutting the door again like Harry had hoped, he strolls inside and plops down at the foot of Harry’s bed. 

”Cute jumper…” he comments. ”That from Molly?”

”What?” Harry instinctively looks down at his body. ”Oh. Yeah. Don’t know why she made me one, but…”

”Well you…” Sirius starts to say something, but falters and keeps whatever it was to himself and simply grins instead. 

That’s when it strikes Harry. The vision he had. Mr Weasley’s attack. Sirius had made a comment about Harry essentially saving the man’s life, but at the time Harry had thought he was just trying to make him feel better. He never thought anyone else would see it that way, that the Weasleys would see it that way… for a second, the coppery taste of blood fills his mouth and he feels sick. 

The jumper, that had felt like exactly the right size and not itchy at all only a moment ago, now feels too tight, too hot, too everything and it definitely feels itchy. Harry wishes Sirius would leave his bedroom again, so he can take it off. But as it is, he simply pulls on it slightly. 

”What else did you get? What’s this?” Sirius asks, plucking the Extendable Ear from the bed and studying it curiously. 

”It’s er… a thing for ehm… eavesdropping…” Harry mumbles, pulling a little harder on the woolly straitjacket. 

He watches in mute horror as Sirius’s attention wavers and he begins to rifle through the debris of wrapping paper and string, searching for more treasure and suddenly Harry wishes he’d left the bottle of fire-whiskey out on the bed. He much rather his dad find that, than the bottle of… of… 

He swallows thickly. His cheeks are burning again and he scrambles to gather up all the wrapping paper and carefully scoops up the books and glass phial along with the rubbish, then stuffs it all behind his back. 

”This is fancy…” Sirius comments idly, holding the tie pin up into the light from the window. 

”Yeah…” Harry croaks. ”Is there any coffee?”

”Oh yeah”, Sirius says and jumps to his feet again. ”That’s what I was supposed to tell you. Breakfast is ready and Remus thought we’d have it in the living room!”

”Okay, I’ll be right there!”

”All right”, Sirius says and shuffles over the doorway, but then hesitates at the threshold. ”You okay, Harry?”

”Yep, fine”, Harry nods. ”Great.”

”Great”, Sirius echoes and mirrors his nod with a look of relief on his face. ”See you in a bit then!”

As soon as Sirius is out of sight again, Harry releases the breath he’d tried not to hold in and his entire body sags. 

What the hell is Blaise playing at, he thinks furiously. Giving me romantic novels and… and… when he knows I’ll be opening the present in front of my dads!

”Bastard”, Harry grumbles quietly and digs out the books and phial from the pile of rubbish again. 

He can hear his dads muffled voices out in the kitchen, his daddy’s tone inquisitive and his dad sounding almost defensive and even though he can’t quite make out the words, Harry can just picture the scene in front of him. Daddy with this sixth sense for sussing out when something is up with Harry and Sirius saying something along the lines of ’But he said he’s fine!’

Damn it, Harry thinks and quickly stows Blaise’s presents along with Seamus’s fire-whiskey in the bedside drawer, before scrambling to his feet. That’s all he needs, causing an argument between his dads on Christmas Day!

He gathers up the remaining five presents and hurries out into the kitchen with a beaming grin on his face that he hopes Remus will accept as genuine. 

”Happy Christmas!” he exclaims. 

Remus blinks in surprise, but quickly returns his smile. 

”Merry Christmas, cub”, he says warmly. ”Happy with your presents so far?”

”Yeah, absolutely”, Harry nods and spins on his heel and calls over his shoulder, ”I’m just going to put these last ones under the tree and then I’ll come back!”

”No, no, we’re coming too”, Remus calls after him. 

A moment later, as Harry is placing the four presents from his dads on the the floor beneath the Christmas tree’s lowest branches, his daddy reappears with the massive breakfast tray floating in the air in front of him. 

”I thought we’d have breakfast in here — much cosier!” he says and levitates the tray onto the coffee table.

”Good idea”, Harry grins. 

He bounds over to the sofa with Draco’s present clutched eagerly in both hands and settles into the middle of the sofa, tucking his legs under his body and snuggling into Remus’s side, before tearing into the present. Remus pours him a cup of coffee and places it on the table in front of him and Harry mumbles a thanks absent-mindedly, distracted by the beautiful wrought gold picture frame revealed inside the neat wrapping. 

”What’s that?” Remus asks curiously. ”Did he make you another drawing?”

”Yeah…” Harry says breathlessly, staring down at the incredible, detailed drawing in his lap. 

If it wasn’t for the occasional pencil stroke or smudged fingerprint in the shaded background, Harry might have believed it was a photograph, that’s how immaculate and detailed the drawing is. It depicts himself and Draco, lounging together in their favourite loveseat in the Slytherin Common Room, Harry curled up with his legs tucked under him, similar to how he’s sitting right now, and Draco sitting with his legs sprawled out in front of him and an arm slung around Harry’s body, hugging him close. They’re also gazing into each other’s eyes and Harry’s mouth is opened slightly as if he’s talking, while Draco listens to him, a small smirk quirking his lips. 

”He’s incredibly talented…” Remus murmurs. ”Take a look at this, Pads. Draco made Harry another drawing. This one is unbelievable!”

Harry feels the sofa cushions dip as his dad settles down on his other side and then he senses the man in his peripheral as he leans closer and cranes his neck to peer at the picture.

”Yeah, that’s really good… Harry, are you going to open the rest of your presents?”

”In a minute”, Harry mumbles distractedly, having just discovered a small note stuck to the back of the picture frame. 

”Let’s just have breakfast, I think this is going to take a while”, Remus tells Sirius quietly, a hint of fond amusement in his voice. 

Harry gently plucks the note from the back of the fram and unfolds it with trembling fingers, his heart leaping happily at the sight of Draco’s familiar swirly handwriting. 

”Harry, 

I hope you have great time with your dads. I really do wish I could be there with you. I miss you terribly, more than you can probably guess. I think about you every minute of every day, as pathetically sentimental as that is, and about that time in the Prefect’s Bathroom in particular… I’m counting down the seconds until the 4th of January when I get to see you, and hold you, and kiss you again… 

I miss you, and love you, and adore you always!

Your Draco

P.S. If you want to get an idea of the kind of thoughts that go through my head when I think about you, tap the drawing with your wand — but wait until you’re alone!”

Harry hurriedly folds the note again, before either of his dads try to read it over his shoulder. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire again. 

Remus gives him a fond, knowing look, but is kind enough not to comment. Instead he hands him one of his remaining presents. Harry tears the wrapping paper off to reveal a set of textbooks entitled Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts in three thick volumes, each with moving colour illustrations that will, according to Remus, give Harry a fighting chance to pass his DADA OWL despite Umbridge’s interference. 

Harry gives his daddy a surprised look and huffs out a chuckle; this is the first time the man has openly shown any displeasure for one of Harry’s teachers since Lockhart. A subtle blush breaks out in Remus’s cheeks, but he returns Harry’s teasing look defiantly. 

”Thanks, they’re great”, Harry says smiling. 

”Next one!” Sirius exclaims with a childish eagerness and brings one of Harry’s remaining gifts over from the under the tree with an Accio. ”This one’s from me!”

Harry laughs and accepts the medium-sized gift when his dad hands it to him. 

”Aren’t you going to open yours?” he asks. 

”We will”, Remus assures him. ”You open that first, then we’ll open ours…”

Harry shrugs and tears the wrapping paper off. Inside is a small box, containing a pocket knife. 

”That can pick any lock!” Sirius declares proudly. 

Remus shoots his husband a disapproving look, but doesn’t say anything, just accios the remaining presents over from the tree. He places Harry’s two in his lap and then hands Harry’s gift to Sirius over to the other man over Harry’s head, before carefully plucking at the Spellotape on his own. 

”You’re not giving each other anything?” Harry asks in surprise. 

A matching set of blushes immediately break out in both men’s faces, but they valiantly pretend like nothing and feign an exaggerated interest in their respective gifts from Harry. But considering Harry got Remus a new quill and a fresh supply of ink and Sirius a new pair of dragon hide gloves, he knows they can’t be that interested… he’s more than happy to play along however, since he knows there’s not a lot of things that would make his dad blush, and the things that would, he really rather not hear about!

He quickly feigns an interest in his own gift, even though it’s another jumper. This one isn’t knitted though. It’s made from a rather soft fabric in an unusually vivid shade of emerald green and it’s got some sort of hood attached to it in the same fabric. Harry blinks at it. 

”Do you like it?” Sirius asks tentatively. ”We can take it back if you don’t, they gave me a receipt and said it guarantees an exchange, so if we go together you can pick out something else you like better… but I thought it was a nice colour, and most of the other jumpers had writings on them…”

”Writing?” Harry asks nonplussed. 

”Yeah, like slogans or brand names”, Sirius says and shrugs. 

”It was a muggle clothing shop”, Remus cuts in. 

”Muggle-infused fashion is all the rage on the continent, Tonks said”, Sirius says a little defensively. ”Just wait. Around this time next year, all the kids in Britain will be wearing stuff like this!”

”Maybe you want to save it for next year then, Harry…” Remus says with a teasing smile in his husband’s direction, but he clearly senses that the other man is genuinely worried Harry won’t like the jumper, because he immediately reaches out across the back of Harry’s shoulders and combs his fingers through the man’s hair. ”I’m only joking. I think it’s great and Harry will look really handsome in it…”

”You can change it, if you want”, Sirius tells Harry again, a small wrinkle of worry appearing between his eyebrows. 

”No, no, I love it”, Harry says quickly. ”Really!”

”Okay, one more left…” Remus says and gives the last, and smallest, gift a prod with his finger. 

Harry eagerly rips the paper off and discovers a small, nondescript wooden box inside. He lifts the lid gingerly and reveals one, sole leaf inside. He frowns in confusion and looks up at Remus. His confusion only grows when he spots the small, secretive smile on the man’s face.

”What…”

”That’s a mandrake leaf”, Remus says. 

Harry widens his eyes and gasps, hardly daring to believe it… but when Remus’s smile grows wider, confirming his suspicion, he lets out a squeal of delight and throws himself against the man. Remus chuckles and hugs him back. 

”You’ll have to keep it in your mouth for a month—”

”I know, I know, I remember!” Harry exclaims, pulling away from his daddy’s embrace again and turning to hug his dad too, knowing he’s probably the reason Remus has caved in and decided to let Harry become an animagus early. ”Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Sirius laughs and claps him on the back. 

”Don’t think it’s going to be an easy process…” he warns half-heartedly. ”Having that in your mouth for a month, that’s the least of it…”

”Yeah, I remember what the book said…” Harry says and nods. 

”Here, let me help you with it…” Remus says and grabs his wand again. 

Harry places the small leaf under his tongue and then tilts his head back, so that Remus can put a Semi-permanent Sticking Charm on it. 

”How does it feel?” he asks with a smile. 

”Weird”, Harry says, moving his tongue around experimentally. 

”You’ll get used to it”, Sirius says. ”You just have to be a bit careful when you use your tongue, you know when you eat and… well, when you eat.”

He looks extremely uncomfortable and quickly changes the subject.

Later in the evening, when Remus is out in the small garden feeding the gnomes, Harry asks Sirius how he managed to persuade the other man to let him start the process to become an animagus early. 

At first, Sirius tries to pretend he’d done no such thing and that it was all Remus’s idea. But finally he gives in with a sigh and says, ”It was the Dementors… last summer… I didn’t persuadehim exactly, I just told him that oneway to keep you safe from another Dementor attack, apart from teaching you the Patronus Charm, would be to let you study animagi magic — because Dementors don’t bother with animals, they only go for humans and, as far as we know, they can’t tell the difference between a real animal and a wizard in animagi form.”

Harry grins. Not only did Sirius persuade Remus, he did it in a rather cunning and foolproof way as well. If Harry didn’t know better, he’d think a Slytherin came up with it. 

”Thanks”, he says. ”I can’t wait to get started.”

It’s not until he’s said good night to his dads and crawled into bed that Harry reaches for the picture frame with Draco’s drawing and, propping it up against his bent legs, he reaches for his wand and gives the picture a tentative tap. 

Immediately the two figures in the drawing come to life and just like Harry had guessed, the dark-haired one is in the middle of some story and the blonde one is listening avidly, his smirk twitching at something the other boy says. 

Then, as Harry watches with bated breath, the slender fingers of the blonde’s hand, that had been splayed casually over the other Harry’s arm, float up to nestle in his messy dark hair and Harry can almost feel them in his own hair and shivers pleasantly. 

The Harry in the picture stutters to a stop — mid-sentence, by the looks of it — and the shading in his cheeks grows a little darker with a very realistic blush and he tilts his head back to accept the urgent kiss that the blonde plants on his mouth. 

Harry isn’t sure which of the two boys in the drawing deepens the kiss, but it soon turns very heated and Harry feels his pulse quicken and his cock begin to swell with interest as the two figures’s hands begin to roam desperately. The other Harry’s hair is messy beyond ridiculous after merely a few seconds of the blonde fisting it and pulling him closer. Then, with Seeker speed, the shorter boy springs up from his position and straddles the taller boy’s lap, and Harry gasps softly. 

Feeling embarrassed and excited in equal measure, and utterly unable to look away or even so much as blink, Harry stares as the two boys in the drawing grind together a few times and then gapes as the blonde more or less throws the brunette down on his back on the love-seat. Two bulging hard-ons are visible in the space between them for a second, before the blonde drapes himself on top of the other Harry and continues to devour him. 

Harry feels his mouth go dry as he watches the image of himself wrap its legs around the other boy’s waist eagerly and reaching up behind him to grab onto the armrest, as the blonde head ducks down and begins to kiss its way down the length of his throat, popping the buttons on his shirt open and flicking the material aside as he continues further and further down the smaller boy’s chest. 

When the blonde finally sits back, once again revealing both boys’ bulging crotches, and leers down at the smaller boy and reaching for his belt, Harry gives the drawing another hurried tap with his wand and fumbles with the picture frame in his hurry to hide it in his bedside drawer along with all the other Christmas gifts non-suitable for dads. 

Flopping back down on his back on the bed, Harry takes a shaky breath. His swollen cock is straining against the confines of his underpants and tenting his pyjama bottoms slightly. Glancing down, Harry thinks he can almost see it throb through the layer of cotton. 

He holds his breath and listens for any sign of movement outside his bedroom door and when he hears nothing, he breathes out again shakily and thrusts his hand down his pants. He’s halfway to his orgasm, with fragmented images of Draco’s naked body, smirking lips and glittering eyes playing on the inside of his eyelids, when he remembers the bottle of Slick™ Blaise gave him… a brief memory of a slender finger rubbing against his hole flickers into his mind… maybe if I try it on myself, I’ll get a better idea of what it would feel like… just a little bit, just one finger… 

But before the idea has fully formed and turned into a decision, the orgasm ripples through him and he goes rigid, arching his back and squeezing his eyes shut. 

Next time, he thinks numbly, once he’s got his breathing back under control. I’ll try it next time.

Over the next couple of weeks, in-between stuffing their faces with everything chocolatey and engaging in long-winded tournaments of Exploding Snap with Sirius, Harry and Remus continue practising the Patronus Charm and finally, on Twelfth Night, Harry manages to conjure a corporeal Patronus. His stomach swoops, but as soon as the Patronus form registers with him, it sinks again and the silvery creature immediately evaporates into thin air.

”What…” Remus’s proud smile slowly fades and he gives Harry a questioning look. 

”But… but… I don’t understand… That’s a horrible memory! Why would it do that?” Harry demands and throws himself down on the nearest surface, which happens to be the armchair Remus usually favours when he’s reading a book in front of the fire. 

”You thought of a horrible memory?” Remus frowns in confusion.

”No, I thought of a really good one! But that —” he gestures at the spot where the Patronus had been. ”I mean a ferret! A FERRET! I hate ferrets!”

”Why do you hate ferrets?” Remus asks carefully, looking more and more confused. 

”I mean, I don’t hate ferrets, but I hate that Moody transformed Draco into one and—” 

”Wait, what? Moody transformed Draco—?”

Harry lets out a pained groan and Remus gingerly sits down on the sofa next to the armchair and gives him a patient and compassionate look while he listens to him.

”No, not the real Moody — Barty Crouch Jr., when he was impersonating Moody, last year — he transformed Draco into a ferret, then he made him bounce up and down on the floor — and it broke his arm!” 

”All right…” Remus says calmly. ”That does sound awful, but Harry—”

”I don’t want that to be my Patronus!” Harry wails. 

”I understand, but that’s—”

”What’s Draco going to think! He’s really sensitive about that — still — any mention of ferrets and he has a strop! Now he’s going to think I actually thought the whole thing was funny, like everyone else! And I didn’t—!”

”I’m sure you didn’t”, Remus says in a soothing voice that makes Harry bristle, because that’s how you talk to little children when they’re scared a Boggart is hiding under their bed. ”And I’m sure Draco knows that too—”

”But what else is he going to think when that’s my happiest memory!” 

”No”, Remus says firmly and shakes his head. ”That’s not how the Charm works — no, listen to me Harry, before you start shouting again — the Patronus charm didn’t choose to assume the form of a ferret because of that one memory. Even if that would have been the memory you thought of to conjure it, that’s not how the charm works… so even if it has chosen a ferret to represent Draco—”

”But Draco’s nothing like a ferret!” Harry exclaims, cutting the man off once more. ”Ferrets are sneaky and twitchy and — and — ” 

Remus raises an amused eyebrow, ”Sounds very Slytherin, to me.” 

”— and squeaky!” Harry adds petulantly, shooting the man a glare. 

”They’re also very playful and social animals”, Remus says lightly, as if commenting on the weather. ”They tend to be territorial and cunning, as well… again, very Slytherin…” 

”Ha-ha”, Harry mutters.

”That’s enough, Harry”, Remus says firmly and pushes to his feet. ”You’ve just managed to conjure a corporeal Patronus. This is cause for celebration, not moping! I’m going to make a chocolate cake!”

*

On the last day of the holidays, the last person Harry would expect to show up at the cottage raps on the front door and glares back at them from the other side of the threshold when Remus opens it. 

”Severus”, he says in surprise and Harry can hear the smile in his voice from his vantage point behind his back. 

”Professor!” Harry exclaims happily. ”What are you doing here?”

”The Headmaster has sent me to discuss something with you”, the Potions Master tells Harry curtly, then flits his dark eyes over to Remus. ”All of you. If it’s not inconvenient—”

”No, no, of course not — come in, come in”, Remus says and steps aside with a sweeping gesture. ”I’ll put the kettle on!”

”Thank you, that won’t be necessary…” Professor Snape mutters and strides into the hall, his black robes billowing dramatically behind him as always and Harry beams, but quickly reigns it back in when he receives a sour look from the man. 

”It’s good to see you, Professor”, he says and tries not to smile too widely, just in case the man thinks he’s poking fun at him. ”Did you have a good Christmas?”

”It was acceptable”, Snape mutters evasively, but his scowl softens slightly and he follows Harry into the kitchen. 

”Won’t you stay for tea?” Harry asks him with an imploring look. ”Dad was called in to work, so he’s not here, if that’s what you’re worried about…”

He catches Snape’s eyes flickering away from his own face and up to a point behind him, presumably to lock with Remus for a second, before they flit away completely and shutter. 

”No, I shan’t stay long…” Snape mumbles. ”I’m simply here because—”

”Surely you have time to stay for one cup of tea?” Harry insists. ”Daddy made a really delicious chocolate cake the other day—”

”Harry”, Remus admonishes gently.

”Sorry…” he mumbles, slumping a little in his seat. 

He’s not sure why he wants Professor Snape to stay for tea so badly. It’s not like he’s dying to spend time with the man exactly. But something tells him that the man doesn’t really have that many people to spend the holidays with and, even though he and Sirius clearly detest each other for some reason, at least he and Remus seem to get on well enough… and after everything they’ve been through, and getting to know the man better, Harry has actually grown quite fond of his Head of House and he wants to help him somehow.

”I guess I could stay for one cup…” Snape says quietly and Harry’s head shoots up in surprise, earning a half-hearted glare from the man before he glances over at Remus again. ”If it’s not an imposition—?”

”Of course not”, Remus says kindly. ”Do you want tea, or coffee?”

”Or hot chocolate?” Harry adds. 

”Certainly not”, Snape tells him swiftly, before turning back to Remus. ”But coffee would be… tolerable… I suppose.”

”You don’t like chocolate?” Harry asks with a cheeky grin. ”You’ll have to try daddy’s cake, though! I promise, you’ll love it!”

”Harry, that’s enough”, Remus says. ”I’m sure Professor Snape will have a piece if he feels like it. Stop pestering the man.”

Harry glances over at the Potions Master again and blushes slightly at the glint of amusement in the man’s dark eyes. They sit in companionable silence for a moment while they wait for Remus to finish preparing the coffee and the cake, and when he finally joins them and serves them both a cup of coffee each, Snape inclines his head and murmurs a soft thank you. 

”You’re welcome”, Remus murmurs, his smile twitching slightly. ”It is good to see you…”

Professor Snape looks extremely uncomfortable at this display of affection, however mild and it makes Harry’s chest pinch, thinking he must not be very used to people showing him kindness… 

Remus quickly takes pity on him and turns his attention to Harry instead, handing him a cup of steaming coffee as well. Harry accepts it with a smile, then quickly pulls the sleeves back down over his hands when they ride up, conscious of the scar on the back of his left hand. 

”Are you cold?” Remus asks him. 

Harry quickly shakes his head, then glances over at Snape and catches his perceptive eyes flit between his hands and his face, and holds his breath. But the Potions Master says nothing and his face gives nothing away either, which Harry is extremely grateful for.

Before Remus can question Harry further, Snape straightens up importantly in his seat and shakes the hair out of his face. 

”The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, that it is his wish that you study Occlumency this coming term, Harry. You will receive private lessons once a week, but you must not tell anybody outside your immediate circle of friends about it, least of all Dolores Umbridge”, he speaks in a smooth rush of words, then raises his coffee cup to his mouth and takes a cautious sip before adding, ”I will be teaching you.”

Another look passes between the two grown men and Harry frowns. The amusement, or whatever it had been, that had glittered in both men’s eyes only a moment ago is now nowhere to be seen. If anything, a sense of foreboding has settled over the kitchen like a heavy blanket. 

”What… erm… what is it, this occlu-men-thingy?” he asks warily. 

”Occlumency”, Remus corrects him gently. ”It’s very advanced magic.”

”But essential for you to learn, according to the Headmaster”, Snape cuts in pointedly. 

”How advanced?” Harry asks his daddy, worrying his lip. 

He knows Professor Snape has very limited patience for when students are incompetent or slow to pick up on what he’s teaching them, remembering how Potions used to be before he got the hang of it and he really don’t wish to go back to that. Most of all, he doesn’t want Professor Snape to be disappointed with him. Not after everything he’s put the man through…

”Very advanced”, Remus says, but smiles kindly at him. ”But if I was going to have private lessons in it, I’d want Professor Snape to teach me…”

Another look passes between the two men. 

”Severus is a very accomplished Legilimens.”

”What’s that?” Harry asks. ”And what’s Occlumency?”

Professor Snape takes a deep breath and then speaks in a well-rehearsed rush, familiar to Harry as it is how the man usually speaks when he’s teaching, ”Occlumency is the magical defence of the mind against external penetration—”

Harry’s heart stutters in his chest… external penetration… like… being possessed…

”—It is an obscure branch of magic and, as Remus has already pointed out, quite advanced but also very useful should you master it. Legilimency, is simply the opposite of Occlumency, the ability to penetrate the mind of another. A Legilimens is someone with the ability to do this, under the right circumstances, or to occlude should someone else try and break through your mind’s protective barriers.” 

”And… and you can do that?” Harry asks, gazing at the other man in wonder. ”You can read minds?”

”Not… quite…” Professor Snape mutters, shifting in his chair. ”I will go over all of this in detail with you in your first lesson.”

”All right”, Harry nods, accepting that he will have to wait for the information. 

But from what Snape has said so far, it sure sounds he can read minds, to Harry. He didn’t think it was possible for him to be more impressed by his Head of House, but clearly he’d been wrong. Is there anything he can’t do?

”Don’t worry about it being too advanced for you”, Snape says suddenly. ”I will help you grasp the principles and after that, it’s just down to practice and discipline… I realise your lack of focus will put you at a disadvantage—”

Harry splutters indignantly.

”—but I’m hoping that a learning atmosphere without any distractions around you will counter-act your usual inability to concentrate—”

”There’s nothing wrong with my ability to concentrate!”

”Piece of cake?” Remus offers Snape with a smile and the other man shoots him a half-hearted glare. 

”I’ve got an E average in Potions!” Harry insists stubbornly.

A small smirk flickers onto Professor Snape’s face, but fades just as soon when they hear the front door open and shut. 

In the next moment, Sirius waltzes into the kitchen. His wide grin falls as soon as he catches sight of Professor Snape and instead he scowls darkly. 

”Darling”, Remus says lightly. ”Professor Snape is here to talk to Harry about giving him private lessons in Occlumency—”

”With whom?” Sirius demands. 

”With me”, Snape says silkily, his dark eyes flashing with challenge. 

”Why?” Sirius more or less barks out, his hands balling into fists at his sides. 

”The Headmaster seems to think it would be prudent—” Snape hisses, his voice growing quieter as if to counter-act Sirius’s raised tone. 

”Then why can’t he teach him?”

”We think this is great news”, Remus interrupts in a loud and clear, before Snape has a chance to reply and Sirius shoots him a sour look. ”Come and sit down. Have some cake.”

”…’m not hungry”, Sirius growls and turns on his heel, stomping back out of the kitchen again. 

Harry glances between the two remaining grown-ups worriedly, as a moment’s tense silence spreads out between the three of them. Professor Snape is glaring at the barely touched cup of coffee in front of him and Remus is staring out the window pensively.

”I believe I have out-stayed my welcome…” Snape murmurs finally. 

”Don’t be silly”, Remus says immediately and tears his eyes away from the window again. ”Stay. Finish your coffee.”

”Thank you, but I really ought to get going…” Snape says and stands up swiftly, then hesitates for a second and looking at a point halfway across the table in Remus’s direction. ”I appreciate your hospitality.”

”It was nothing”, Remus says quietly. 

Snape’s eyes flicker up to meet his for the briefest moment, then he gives him a small nod of acknowledgement. 

Harry looks between the two of them, a feeling of unease settling into the pit of his stomach. He realises there’s a lot more going on then he’s aware of, and he hates not knowing what’s going on… ever since he found out about his daddy’s condition, he’s been especially sensitive to the idea of his dads, or anyone really, keeping things from him. 

”Harry…” Snape says and pins him with a serious, but also rather kind look. ”Your first lesson will be at six o’clock on Monday evening. But I’ll see you tomorrow at the feast.”

”All right”, Harry nods. ”Yeah. See you tomorrow…”

As soon as the front door shuts with a click, Sirius comes storming back into the kitchen bursting with a fight and Remus gives Harry a small nod of permission to take his coffee cup into his bedroom. He hurries to comply and has barely made it into the hallway when Sirius starts barking out expletives in the kitchen behind him. He quickly ducks into his bedroom and shuts the door. Sirius is shouting so loudly that Harry can still make out the words, but Remus’s voice becomes an unintelligible undercurrent of calm. 

Sinking down on his bed with a sigh, Harry cradles his coffee cup close to his face and thinks. He’s always known his dad and Professor Snape hate each other, but he’s never understood why. They probably don’t have enough in common to get on, he figures. But it’s not like they’re school children anymore! Even if they’re not friends, they should still be able to be civil around each other — like Professor Snape and daddy are!

Maybe that’s the problem, Harry muses. Maybe dad’s jealous or something. 

Well, that’s rich, he thinks then. According to dad himself, he’s the one who experimented back in Hogwarts, with both wizards and witches, while daddy was in love with him since day one! If anyone has a right to be jealous — it’s him!

Sighing heavily, Harry drains his coffee cup and flops back on the bed and reaches for one of the copies of Snitch on his bedside table. He realises that there’s no point in him taking sides, when he doesn’t even know the full story… he just hopes that whatever happened between Professor Snape and his dad in the past, that they’ll be able to get over it at some point. 

Glancing over at his bedside table, Harry sighs again. He hasn’t opened the drawer all holiday, but the thought of its contents, especially Blaise’s gift, has been haunting him day and night. Not so much the gifts themselves, because the more he thinks about it, he’s sure Blaise never really meant for him to use the lubrication exactly — or even if he thought he might, Harry is sure that his primary reason for choosing it, and the books, was to make him uncomfortable. So it’s essentially a joke gift. Which is fine. 

But the thoughts triggered by the gifts are anything but a joke to Harry and in combination with the words Draco spoke to him the last evening at Hogwarts, and brought up again in his letter, not to mention the drawing he made for him, they have become a massive albatross around his neck. 

He knows he really wants to do that with Draco. Ever since the Prefect’s Bathroom when Draco slipped his fingers in-between his buttocks and gently rubbed against the sensitive skin there, he’s thought about it almost every time he’s touched himself. But he also knows that he’s not quite ready for it. Not yet. And he’s not sure how to explain that to Draco without hurting his feelings, or making him angry. 

And as much as the thought of talking about sex with either of his dads is a mortifying one, Harry knows he needs to ask Remus for his advice on this before he heads back to Hogwarts. 

He waits until his dads’s voices quiet down out in the kitchen, then ventures out of his bedroom again. He finds Sirius sprawled out on the sofa listening to the Wireless, but there’s no sign of Remus anywhere.

”All packed?” Sirius asks him.

”Ehm, yeah, almost… where’s daddy?”

”Romilda owled and asked if he wouldn’t mind helping her with a Boggart”, Sirius says and reaches out to lower the volume on the Wireless. ”Hey, Harry, listen… I’m sorry about before… I just… Snape just gets under my skin, I know that’s no excuse for acting the way I did, but…”

”That’s okay”, Harry mumbles awkwardly. ”Is that why daddy left?”

”No, no”, Sirius hurries to reassure him. ”No, we’re fine.”

Harry nods, relieved. 

”We’re more than fine, we’re great”, Sirius says, rubbing the back of his neck. ”Your daddy and I love each other. Very much—”

”I know”, Harry says. ”I’m glad you’re not fighting… so, erm… when is he coming back?”

”Shouldn’t be too long, unless it’s a particularly strong Boggart. Why? What’s up?”

”Nothing, really, just… wanted to talk to him… about somthing”, Harry mumbles.

”Well, maybe I can help?” Sirius offers and turns the Wireless off completely. 

Harry hesitates, then shakes his head. But at the look of hurt that flashes in his dad’s face, he sighs and says, ”It’s about sex, all right?”

The hurt in Sirius’s face quickly morphs into an amalgam of panic and embarrassment, but despite this he stammers out a bracing, ”Well, I’m not exactly a virgin!”

Harry gives him a half-hearted glare, remembering the talk they had at Grimmauld Place in the summer. 

Although, he thinks. That’s actually a good point. If dad is more experienced than daddy, it would be good to get his perspective on this…

But Sirius is notoriously bad at these types of talks. Harry remembers when Remus had The Talk with him a couple of years ago. Sirius had literally fled the room that time… Harry gives him a doubtful look now. The other man returns it stubbornly. 

Fine, Harry thinks. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon… 

”Well, okay… er… how old were you the, ehm, first time you had… er… you know… sex?”

”Thirteen”, Sirius replies without batting an eye and Harry blinks. ”What?”

”Thirteen?” Harry repeats incredulously. ”When you, when… when you had, you know… ehm…"

”What?”

”Er…”

”Oh!” Sirius exclaims, as the Knut drops. ”Nononono! No! NO! Much older, much, much… much older! Adult!”

”Oh”, Harry says, feeling slightly relieved. ”Okay!”

”Yeah, no, gosh, Harry! Hang on — why? — is Draco pressuring you to have a-anal sex?” Sirius frowns sternly. 

”No!” Harry quickly shakes his head. ”No, not at all, it’s just… well, our friends keep joking about it and he… well, he doesn’t seem so… ehm, bothered by it and… yeah…”

”Right… all right, that’s… that’s fine, then”, Sirius mutters. ”But if he was pressuring you, or asking you, or even so much as hinting—”

”Dad…” Harry mutters wryly, rolling his eyes. 

”I’m just saying, he’s just bloody well going to have to wait—!”

”Dad—!”

”Just saying…”

Despite everything, Harry can’t help but to smile. Sirius gives him a sheepish look, then fidgets a little awkwardly as if the embarassment from talking about sex is finally kicking in. Harry walks over and takes the seat next to him on the sofa. 

”You can turn the Wireless back on”, he offers and pulls his legs under his body. 

”You sure? You don’t want to… continue talking?” Sirius asks hesitantly, his eyes shining with relief when Harry shakes his head. ”Well… if you’re sure!”

He reaches over and turns the knob eagerly and the trembling barritone of Septimus Curio, lead singer in The Rhythmic Runes, fills the air around them. Harry smiles and leans against his dad slightly. Sirius immediately puts his arm around him and gives his shoulder a light squeeze. 

They listen to the rest of the Witching Hour, bickering good-naturedly about which band is better, Spellbound or The Weird Sisters, and Harry is just beginning to nod off when Glenda Chittock wishes the listeners a good night, before introducing the late broadcast of The Wizarding Wireless Network News. Sirius nudges Harry’s temple with his nose. 

”You should go to bed, runt…”

”Just five more minutes?”

”You want to listen to the news?” Sirius asks sceptically. 

”I want to wait for daddy to get back”, Harry admits, glancing up at the other man sheepishly. ”Not to talk to him, you know, about that stuff… I just want to say good night to him, that’s all…”

”Tell you what”, Sirius says and plants a kiss on his forehead. ”You get ready for bed and when daddy gets home, I’ll tell him to go tuck you in…”

”Even if I fall asleep before he gets home?”

”I’ll tell him to wake you”, Sirius assures him gently, giving his shoulder another squeeze. 

Harry relents with a nod and, unfurling his heavy limbs, he pushes to his feet and totters out of the living room, bumping his shoulder against the doorframe drozily on the way.

”Careful…” Sirius murmurs behind him. 

Harry falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, but after what feels like merely a second, he’s gently shaken awake again. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he turns over and peers up at the blurry figure sitting on the side of his bed. 

”Hey cub… your dad said you wanted me to let you know I got back alright?” Remus whispers and Harry feels his fingers card through his hair. ”I’m fine, pup… go back to sleep…”

”Wait…” Harry croaks and reaches out blindly to grab the man’s hand. 

”I’m not going anywhere”, Remus assures him softly. ”I’ll be right here. You go back to sleep.”

”Daddy… you know I love you, right?”

There’s a brief moment of silence when Harry squints up at his daddy’s blurry silhouette, struggling to keep his eyes open while the hypnotic rhythm of Remus’s fingers combing through his hair is expertly lulling him back to sleep. 

”Of course I know, pup…” Remus murmurs. ”I love you too. More than anything.”

”I know…” Harry mumbles sleepily. 

The next thing he knows, he’s lying curled up under his covers and sunlight is streaming in through the window. He blinks his eyes open and squints out into the room. He can hear at least one of his dads’ tinkering out in the kitchen. He arches his back languidly and stretches his arms over his head, knocking his knuckles against the headboard. 

When he opens his bedroom door, the smell of coffee and fresh-baked bread hits him and his stomach gurgles happily. 

He pauses in the doorway of the kitchen and takes in the scene in front of him. Sirius is sitting in his usual seat at the table, reading the Prophet and Remus is bent over him, pouring coffee into his cup. They both look up and smile at him in greeting. Harry smiles back. 

”Morning, runt…” Sirius says lightly. ”Did you finish packing?”

”You already asked me that”, Harry mutters and takes the seat across from him at the table. 

”And you said ’almost’, which we all know is Harry for ’I’ve opened my trunk and thought about putting some things into it’…”

Remus snorts, but immediately swats at his husband’s head playfully, He misses him by an inch however, because Sirius leans away from him just in time and shoots him a teasing grin. Harry beams, happy to see that his dads have made up.

”There’s plenty of time”, Remus says and pours coffee into a second cup for Harry. ”I’m actually surprised you’re up this early, Harry. Usually we have to drag you out of bed when it’s time to leave…”

Harry accepts the cup from him with a smile, grabbing it with both hands, eager to warm them on the hot porcelain. The sleeves of his pyjama top fall down his arms and the light pink scar tissue on the back of his left hand gleams up at him — the words ’I must’ taunting him — and he quickly puts the hand in his lap, hidden from his dads’ view under the table. He ducks his head and brings the coffee cup to his mouth to blow on the hot beverage, while steeling himself… did they see? 

His heart is pounding in his chest… liar-liar-liar…

He can hear Sirius rustle the pages of his paper… is he putting it down? Is he angry? 

Liar-liar-liar…

”Still nothing about Arthur”, Sirius says casually and Harry snaps his head up. ”I’m surprised no-one at St. Mungo’s has leaked the story yet…”

”There’s no story if they don’t know where he got attacked”, Remus says, just as casually as he sits down next to his husband and reaches for a piece of toast. 

Relief floods Harry with such force he feels almost light-headed from it. They didn’t see!

He knows he should tell them. Now, while he has the opportunity. But… He sips his coffee carefully. He really doesn’t want to ruin this moment with them. Besides, he tells himself. They had a massive row yesterday and only just made up. They deserve to enjoy a good, carefree morning together. We all do. As a family. 

After breakfast Sirius hugs Harry good bye and leaves for work and Harry spends the rest of the morning helping Remus with the house work and then retires to his bedroom to pack his things, while his daddy sits down to do some writing. 

They both take a break for a late lunch and then spend the rest of the afternoon playing wizarding chess in front of the fire, until it’s time to leave. Harry carries Hedwig’s cage and Remus levitates his trunk for him and together they make their way across Hogsmeade towards the station. 

They reach the station just as the Hogwarts Express pulls into the platform and Remus levitates Harry’s trunk towards one of the carriages, before pulling into a massive hug. 

”It’s been so good to have you home, Harry”, he murmurs thickly, sniffling into his hair. ”You be good now and keep out of trouble, okay?”

”Yeah”, Harry croaks, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat. 

”And I’ll see you soon, okay? Next Hogsmeade weekend. Bring Draco too, if you want. And if he wants”, Remus says, pulling back slightly to peer into Harry’s face with a watery smile. ”Okay?”

Harry nods and blinks quickly a couple of times, to get the sting out of his eyes. Remus cups his face and then leans down to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. 

”I love you…” he murmurs. ”Be good.”

”I will”, Harry promises, his chest pinching at the thought of the words etched into his hand. ”I promise I’ll stay out of trouble for the rest of the year!”

”Harry!” 

Remus eyes flicker to a point over Harry’s shoulder and his smile widens. He gives Harry a final, quick peck on the forehead and then takes a step back and raises a hand in greeting. Harry has barely turned all the way round when he’s enveloped in a pair of long, lean arms and pulled against an even leaner body. The scent of coconut and peppermint settles over him and he inhales happily, hugging the other boy back. 

It only lasts for a second, and then Draco is pulling away from him again so that he can shake Remus’s hand. Harry exchanges an amused look with his daddy, but the man returns Draco’s handshake and gives him a kind smile. 

”It’s good to see you again, Mr Lupin. I hope you had a good holiday?”

”It was, thank you”, Remus says and then, with only a mischievous twinkle in his eye as warning, he squeezes the blonde’s hand firmly and pulls him into a quick, one-armed hug. 

Draco stumbles back, blinking in shock. 

”And please, call me Remus…” 

Harry beams as his daddy gives Draco a gentle pat on the shoulder and then pushes past him to shake the hands of all of Harry’s other friends casually, as if it’s not a big deal at all that he just hugged Draco for the first time. Draco is standing rigidly, still clearly in shock, when Harry brushes their fingers together and then he shakes out of it slightly and meets his gaze. 

”You okay?” Harry asks with a teasing smirk. 

”What? Yeah. Of course”, Draco mumbles, blushing a bright pink. ”Why wouldn’t I be? Are you? Okay? I-I- m-mean, how are you? How was your ehm h-holiday?”

”It was great”, Harry says, chuckling. 

Draco takes a deep breath and composes himself again, his eyes growing sharp as he returns Harry’s smirk. 

”Yeah?” he murmurs. ”Did you get any good presents?”

It’s Harry’s turn to blush. Luckily his daddy returns to say good bye and saves him from the embarrassment of having to come up with something clever to say, and by the time they’re squeezed into the carriage with the others, Draco seems to have forgotten about it and is happily lounging against the wall of the carriage with his arm slung loosely around Harry. 

”So, Harry…” Blaise says casually, smirking coolly at him. ”What was the best gift you got this year?”

”They were all good”, Harry says, shooting him a warning glare. ”But actually, my dads got me something kind of cool… check it out—”

He stick his tongue out and shows them the mandrake leaf stuck to the underside of it. 

”What the hell is that?” Seamus asks, frowning. 

”A mandrake leaf”, Harry says and leans into Draco again. ”It’s the first step towards becoming an animagus!”

He’s met with a chorus of gasps and coos and Draco gives him a look of delighted surprise, with just a hint of admiration. 

”No way!” Seamus exclaims. ”You’re goin’ ter be able to turn into a cat or something, like ol’ McGonagall?”

”Yeah, or something”, Harry agrees happily. 

”That’s wicked! Wonder what animal you’ll be… do you get to pick?”

”No”, Harry shakes his head. ”But I have a pretty good idea of what I’ll be…”

And then he tells them about Remus’s new Patronus being a swift and that it’s supposed to represent him and Remus’s theory that that’s probably Harry’s animagi form as well. 

”So you’ll turn into a bird?” Seamus snickers. 

”That’s perfect”, Draco murmurs, ignoring the Irish boy’s joke. ”That’s so you…”

Harry turns to meet his gaze and smiles, feeling the other boy’s fingers brush circular patterns on his arm. 

”I can just picture it”, Draco adds. ”You darting all over the place like a lunatic, as usual, except you won’t even need a broom anymore…”

Harry chuckles, ”Yeah, I hope he’s right. I’d love to be able to fly without a broom!”

*

The first week back passes in something of a blur. You’d think they were moments away from a massive disaster, the way the teachers are talking and piling homework on them. But to be fair, the prospect of failing an O.W.L. is a kind of disaster and one that Draco at least is doing everything in his power to avoid. Harry and the others are little more relaxed about their revising, but Harry is starting to feel the pressure as well, with every passing day and every assigned homework essay. 

Draco even starts talking about leaving the Quidditch team, so that he can spend the time he’d usually spend on practise to revise, but Harry manages to talk him out of it, reminding him that he loves Quidditch and the regular physical exercise will help him concentrate on his studies as well. He hopes this is true, because when Flint gives them the new training schedule, he almost considers leaving himself…

”Don’t be absurd”, Draco mutters, scanning his revision planner with frantic eyes. ”If you leave, we don’t stand a chance at winning the Quidditch Cup either…”

Finally, the first week draws to a close and Monday evening rolls around. Draco looks up at him in surprise when he disentangles himself from him on the loveseat and says he needs to get going to Snape’s office. 

”Why?”

”I’m getting private lessons in something called Occlumency this term… Dumbledore’s idea—”

”They’re making you take another class? In your O.W.L. year?” Draco says, aghast. 

”Yeah…” Harry shrugs. ”I don’t think I’ll have to sit an O.W.L. in it our anything though… it’s kind of a secret.”

”Why?” Draco frowns. ”What is it?”

”I’m not really sure yet. I’ll tell you about it later…”

Snape’s office is as gloomy as ever, the many glass jars lining the walls creating a mosaic of colour, gleaming softly in the low light from the candles on the desk. Professor Snape emerges out of the shadows like an ominous bat and looms over him. Harry attempts a smile, but it comes off as twitchy at best. His stomach is a jumble of knots and he keeps flashing back to the conversation in the kitchen and his daddy telling him Occlumency is very advanced magic…

”Have a seat, Harry”, Professor Snape tells him calmly. ”Before we get started, I’d like to talk to you…”

Harry nods and walks up to the chair in front of the desk. An avalanche of bad memories washes over him, of each and every other time he’s sat in this chair… in trouble. 

Professor Snape swoops down and sits down in the chair on the other side of the desk, staring at him steadily over the rim of a stone basin… hang on, I know what this is, Harry thinks and gives the stone basin a second look. 

The last time he saw this, it was hidden in a cupboard in Dumbledore’s office and full of a swirling silvery substance — memories —

”This is a Pensieve”, Snape murmurs. 

Harry tears his eyes away from the runes etched into the basin along the rim and nods. 

”Harry… why haven’t you told your dads about the blood quill yet?”

Harry hangs his head and sighs. 

”The longer you wait—”

”I know”, Harry mumbles. ”I know, Sir… I just… I’ve tried telling them, but there never seemed to be the right time and…”

That’s not true, at all, of course. Harry has been deliberately avoiding telling his dads about his scar all year. But for some reason he thinks Professor Snape is more likely to let him get away with it, if he thinks he’s at least been trying. 

”If you don’t tell them by the end of this term, I will have to”, Snape tells him firmly. ”Now. Occlumency.”

Harry straightens up and gives the Potions Master his full attention, his body thrumming with nerves once more. 

”As I told you when I visited your home, this branch of magic seals the mind against magical intrusion and influence… The Dark Lord is a very skilled Legilimens—”

”He can read minds too?” Harry cuts in, feeling his blood run cold at the idea and adding a belated Sir when the Potions Master shoots him a sour look. 

”The mind is not a book to be opened at will and examined at leisure, nor are thoughts etched on the inside of skulls to be perused by any intruder”, Snape says curtly. ”The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, but those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and interpret their findings correctly, but it’s less about reading specific thoughts and more about sensing emotions or viewing memories…”

Harry feels colder and colder the more Professor Snape speaks, his hands and face growing numb and his heart beating a steady tattoo in his tight chest. 

”The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Because only those who are skilled at Occlumency are able to conceal those feelings and memories that contradict the lie.”

”So… he could know what we’re th-thinking… right now, Sir?” Harry asks quietly. 

Something in Snape’s dark seems to soften, even if his voice remains cold and crisp when he tells Harry that with the Dark Lord being at a great distance from Hogwarts, he would struggle to penetrate their minds even without the considerable protections placed on the castle, and Harry relaxes slightly again. 

”Hogwarts is guarded by many ancient spells and charms to ensure the bodily and mental safetly of those who dwell within her walls”, Snape reassures him. ”Time and space matter in magic. Eye contact is often essential to Legilimency.”

”So, then, why does Dumbledore think it’s so important that I learn this?” Harry asks, dreading the answer even before the words are out of his mouth. ”Sir?”

”Well… it would seem… that the usual rules don’t apply to you, Harry”, Snape admits, pursing his lips in annoyance, as if the very notion of rules that he’s spent his whole life learning and mastering bending unpredictably is a personal insult to him. ”The curse that failed to… kill you…”

The man pauses for a brief moment to take a deep breath, his eyes flitting away to glare at a pickled toad on the nearest shelf. 

”… seems to have forged some kind of connection between the Dark Lord’s mind and your own, allowing your mind to share his thoughts and emotions when you are at your most relaxed and vulnerable — when you are asleep, for instance — and the Headmaster thinks it inadvisable for this continue. In short, he wishes me to teach you how to close your mind to the Dark Lord.”

Harry’s heart is hammering by the end of Professor Snape’s spiel and fear is pumping through his veins. But despite this, a small voice pipes up at the back of his mind… but why? 

Harry recognises this voice. It’s not inner Remus, or even his inner Snape. It’s his own voice speaking, but it’s his Gryffindor side… this is the voice that has persuaded him to sneak past massive three-headed dogs to steal the Philospher’s Stone from under the nose of Voldemort himself; to venture into the Dark Forest in the middle of the night to talk to giant spiders that want to eat him; to go against his Head of House’s express orders to stay in the safety of his dorm and instead wilfully break into the Chamber of Secrets to face a real life monster… 

But still…

Even if Harry himself wants nothing more than to close his mind to Voldemort… why would Dumbledore want that? It’s been useful so far, hasn’t it? Mr Weasley would be dead if it wasn’t for this connection, after all…

He suddenly becomes aware of Snape’s eyes on him again and quickly tries to smooth his face out into a neutral mask, but it’s too late. Snape is already studying him with narrowed eyes flashing with suspicion and Harry swallows thickly. 

”It’s just… it can be a bit useful though, can’t it, Sir?” He asks carefully. 

Snape says nothing for a long time, just continues to study Harry like he’s one of the specimens in the jars around them, while tracing his thin lips with one slender, potion-stained finger. Harry squirms a little under the scrutiny, but maintains the eye-lock.

”It appears that the Dark Lord has been unaware of the connection between the two of you”, Snape says finally, his voice slow and deliberate, each syllable spoken with silky precision. ”Until very recently.”

Harry’s stomach plummets. 

”Up until now, it seems that you have been experiencing his emotions and sneaking a peek at his thoughts, without him being any wiser… however, the vision you had shortly before Christmas was such a strong incursion upon the Dark Lord’s thoughts—”

”But”, Harry speaks before he can stop himself, as a sudden thought strikes him. ”I saw into the mind of his snake, not—!”

”Don’t. Interrupt me. Harry…” Snape snaps icily. 

”S-sorry, Sir”, Harry mumbles immediately and slumps a little in his seat. ”I just thought… if it’s Voldemort’s thoughts that I’m—”

”Don’t say his name!” Snape snarls in an unusually loud voice. 

Harry flinches and ducks his head again, slumping even further in his seat. A tense and heavy silence settles over the office. Peering over at the Potions Master cautiously, Harry catches him rub his left arm through the sleeve of his robes while once again glaring at the pickled toad. 

”Sorry, Professor…” he says quietly. 

”Never mind”, Snape says curtly. ”It’s a valid question. I believe you visited the snake’s mind because that’s where the Dark Lord was at that particular moment…”

”Wh-what do you m-mean, Si—?”

”I mean he was possessing the snake at the time, so you dreamed you were inside the snake, too”, Snape snaps, wrenching his right hand away from his left wrist and clamping both hands down on the armrests of the chair. ”The important point is, now that the Dark Lord is aware of your ability to access his thoughts and emotions, he has also deduced that the process is likely to work in reverse; that is to say, he has realised that he might be able to access your thoughts and feelings in return. Which brings us back to Occlumency.”

Professor Snape suddenly springs to his feet and swirls around to stand next to his chair and before Harry has even registered what’s happened, he’s got his wand in his hand. Harry starts, blinking at the wand apprehensively. 

Snape slowly raises it to his head and with the tip touching the roots of his long, black hair and when he pulls  it away again, a silvery strand of some smoky substance comes away from his head as well. 

A memory, Harry realises with a jolt and watches as Professor Snape deposits it into the Pensieve between them. 

Professor Snape repeats the action several times, until the Pensieve is swirling with at least five of his memories and he grabs the whole thing and puts it on a shelf out of their way, before returning to stand behind the desk facing Harry with his wand at the ready. 

”Stand up and take out your wand, Harry.”

”Wh-why, what… what are we doing, Sir?” Harry asks warily, as images of the Duelling Club begins to swirl around in his head. 

”I am going to try and break into your mind”, Snape says softly. ”You… are going to try and stop me… you may use your wand to attempt to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of.”

”R-really?” Harry says in surprise and clutches his wand nervously, getting to his feet. 

”Yes… remember when you successfully threw off the Imperius Curse last year? You’ll find that a similar power is needed for this. But don’t expect to succed right away. And don’t feel disheartened when you don’t, either. I don’t expect you to succeed initially — not because of any fault of yours, you understand — this is very advanced magic and will require a lot of practise before you get the hang of it… but I want to assess your level before I get into the specifics with you. Now, wand at the ready, Harry…”

Harry nods and raises his wand, taking a deep, steeling breath. 

”Good”, Snape murmurs quietly. ”Now, brace yourself… legilimens!”

The office and Professor Snape begins to swim before Harry’s eyes; image after image races through his mind, blinding him to his surroundings. 

Harry is five and flying his toy broomstick around the garden, Sirius chasing him happily and Remus watching from the back door. Then suddenly Harry swerves a little too quickly and loses his balance and before he knows it, he’s slid off the broom and fallen the five feet to the ground. For one heart-stopping second, the wind is knocked out of him and he is gripped by an ice-cold fear that he’s somehow died from the fall. As soon as he manages to suck in a breath into his lungs again, it escapes him again in a sob. In the next moment, Sirius has grabbed him and lifted him from the ground and Harry clambers onto him, crying miserably… 

He’s eleven and getting fitted for his school robes in Madam Maulkin’s and a blonde boy is trying to impress him by being snooty and Harry thinks it’s kind of cute, until Remus returns and the boy sneers at his slightly worn-out robes… Later that eveing Remus is tucking him into bed, petting his hair gently as he tells him, ”If you are both sorted in the same house, I’m sure you’ll get to know each other better and you’ll realise that there’s a different side to him.”

”How do you know?” Harry asks suspiciously. 

”There always is”, Remus tells him simply and smiles…

He’s sprawled on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets, watching in shock as Riddle suddenly falls to his knees, screaming in agony before suddenly disappearing…

He’s supporting Draco’s weight as they’re making their way back through the tunnel connecting the Chamber of Secrets with the rest of the castle, when Professor Snape emerges from the darkness in front of them, his black robes rumpled but billowing more dramatically than ever and his dark eyes blazing with fury, and Harry’s heart sinks into his stomach…

He’s thirteen and watching in mute horror, from behind Professor Snape’s back, as his daddy collapses in a spasming heap in a pool of moonlight, then begins to transform into a wolf and howls up at the moon…

He’s twelve and he and Draco are standing on opposites sides of the dorm, staring at each other. Draco’s pale face s streaked with tears and when he blinks, another couple spill over his lashes and run down his cheeks, even as a bright smile breaks out across his face —

No, not that, a voice speaks up at the back of Harry’s mind. That’s private —

— Draco kills the distance between them in three quick strides and grabs Harry’s head in a tight grip, crashing their lips together —

No —

”— not that — AHHH!” Harry lets out a startled yell as a sharp pain explodes in his knee. 

Blinking tears from his eyes, Harry sits up from his sprawled position on the floor and looks around in confusion. Snape’s office comes back into focus and he realises he must have banged his knee on the desk and fallen to the floor. He struggles to his feet again, feeling disoriented and slightly out of breath.

Professor Snape is watching him apprehensively from the other side of the desk, rubbing at a red welt on the inside of his right wrist. 

”Did you mean to cast a Stinging Hex?” he asks coolly. 

Harry shakes his head. 

”I thought not… for a first attempt, that wasn’t too bad. You did manage to stop me eventually, but you wasted a lot of time and energy shouting. You also let me get in too far initially, because you weren’t focused enough.”

”It all happened so quickly”, Harry mutters. ”Did you… did you see everything I saw?”

”Flashes of it. But you needn’t worry. I’m hardly concerned with petty teen dramas…” Harry shoots him a half-hearted glare, to which the other man responds with a small smirk. ”Let’s try a different approach… close your eyes…”

Harry swallows thickly, feeling his stomach coil with dread. He’s not sure he’s up for another round so soon. All in all, the experience was wholly unpleasant, regardless of bumped knees… a headache is already building behind his eyes. But he nods and raises his wand once more, letting his eyes flutter closed. 

”Now… clear your mind…” Professor Snape’s silky voice slithers over to him and Harry shivers slightly and even though he tries his best to comply, random thoughts keep flitting into his head. ”Let go of all emotion… empty your mind… focus…”

Stop thinking, Harry tells himself. Empty mind. No thoughts. Don’t think… 

I’m doing it! I’m not thinking — oh, wait…

”You’re not doing it, Harry…”

I know, Harry thinks churlishly. I’m trying though!

”You need to be more disciplined than this, come on now… focus… let’s try again, on the count of three… one… two… three… legilimens!”

A great, black dragon is rearing in front of him and jet of fire bursts forth from its mouth… 

Ron spins him round and round on the dance floor at the Yule Ball and when he stops, Harry crashes into his chest with a laugh…

He averts his eyes from a muggle poster of a naked woman and blushes in embarassment and Sirius snickers next to him and asks cheekily,”Definitely gay, then?”

Remus’s strong arms are around him, holding him up, holding him together; Harry can feel the growl grow inside the man’s chest even before it escapes his mouth and he burrows even deeper into the embrace; suddenly he’s lifted off the ground completely and his daddy is carrying away from the Stadium… 

He falls forward onto all fours in the middle of a circle of masked wizards, snickering and taunting him… Voldemort steps out of the shadows and smirks down at him coldly… Pain is coursing through his body in relentless currents, growing steadily in intensity until it’s obliterated any fear or anger he might have had, until he can’t even think anymore; his entire existence is narrowed to a fine point and that point is pure pain…

”Noooo!”

When his surroundings regain their focus around him, Harry is once again kneeling on the floor and this time he feels like his brain itself has been battered and brusied from someone trying to physically remove it from his skull and his chest is tight, his lungs squeezed together and he has to gasp for breath.

He can hear Professor Snape let out a disgruntled sigh above him and forces himself back on his feet, but his legs are shaking uncontrollably under him and it takes all of his strength to remain upright. Cold sweat is running down the sides of his face and he’s panting desperately. 

”You are not focusing”, Snape says through clenched teeth, a single drop of sweat trailing down one of his temples. 

”I’m — trying —” Harry gasps. 

Snape huffs out another sigh. 

”Let’s try again”, he says. 

”No — wait —”

”Harry! You are allowing me access to memories you fear, just handing me weapons against you! What kind of match do you imagine you would be for the Dark Lord, when you wear your heart on your sleeve like this?”

”I — I —”

”Unless you learn to control your emotions, he will penetrate your mind with absurd ease!”

”I — I don’t — know — how!”

”Well, figure it out!” Snape snarls. ”We’re trying again! Now, get ready! Legilimens!”

Harry recoils in fear as the pink-haired witch suddenly grows a beak and lurches forward, about to strike…

He’s running through the woods, his heart lodged in his throat and Narcissa Malfoy’s nails cutting into his wrist…

He lands on the Quidditch pitch with such force it knocks the wind out of him and the Triwizard Cup flies out of his hand and tumbles to the side; a roar of cheers and applause rises from the stands, but quickly morphs into screams and worried murmurs; he crawls over to Krum’s dead body, to assure himself that he managed to bring it back…

A Dementor comes gliding towards him and he collapses on the ground, feeling like all the pain in the world has settled into his limbs and frozen his veins; somewhere in the darkness a woman screams, ”No! Please! Not Harry!”

He’s standing with Sirius in a lift that clangs to stop and a witch’s voice announces ”Level Nine: The Department of Mysteries” and Sirius hurriedly steers him out into a corridor lined with black tiles and lit with torches… Sirius says he won’t be a second and Harry grumbles, ”Fine. I’ll just stand here and wait then” and watches sourly as Sirius disappears through the door at the end of the corridor…

”I know! I KNOW!”

Harry is on all fours on the floor and his scar is prickling with pain, but it’s a sense of pure triumph that wells up inside of him, because finally — finally — he remembers where he’s seen that blasted door that he keeps dreaming about!

He pushes himself to his feet and stands shaking in front of Professor Snape, catching his breath. Snape slowly lowers his wand. His face is shuttered, but his eyes are wary as he stares back at Harry. 

”What happened there, Harry?” he asks quietly. 

”Did — did I — d-d-do it?” Harry asks in surprise, feeling his earlier triumph settle comfortably into his stomach. 

”Did you do what?” Snape says slowly. 

”You know — b-block — y-you?” he pants. 

”… No”, Snape murmurs. ”I lifted the spell.”

Harry frowns, ”Why?”

”Why did you start shouting like you’d just won the Daily Prophet’s annual draw?” Snape retorts, narrowing his eyes. 

”Oh — ehm — well, I — I saw”, Harry mutters, rubbing his forehead absent-mindedly as the memory of the corridor and the door he’s been dreaming about for months flickers back into his mind. ”I mean, I remembered — that corridor — I’ve just realised—”

Harry trails off as another memory shoulders the first one aside and stretches out before his mind’s inner eye… he’s sliding over the tiled floor, his snake’s body twisting and coiling… Mr Weasley is sitting slumped against that same door at the end of the corridor, sleeping, but wakes up when the snake approaches… Harry rears back and strikes… 

”Realised what?” Snape says sharply. 

Harry snaps his gaze back to him and registers the hard look in his eyes. 

”Er… just… that door…”

”What about it?” Snape snaps. 

”I never realised, until just now… I’ve seen it before, when I went with dad to his work in the summer. I mean, I had to wait outside, in that corridor, but… that’s the door to the Department Mysteries… and that’s where Mr Weasley was attacked by the snake, isn’t it? Sir?”

”That’s… none of your concern”, Snape mutters with a forced calm, negated sligthly by the agitated look in his eyes. 

”I’ve been dreaming about that corridor, and that door… for months…” Harry says, his heart hammering in his chest. ”Sir… why is Vol- er- the D-Dark Lord thinking about that door all the time? What’s in the Department of Mysteries that he wants to get to—?”

”Enough!” Snape barks. ”I think we’ll call it a night…”

Harry’s scar sears again and he rubs his forehead furiously, but nods. Shivering in the cool, damp dungeon air, he feels slightly nauseous and the idea of another round of this torturous foray into his memories is more than he can bear. 

”But I want you back here on Wednesday night, same time”, Snape adds. ”We’ll continue where we left off then.”

”Wednesday, Sir? I thought you said these lessons would be once a week—?”

”I did”, Snape says swiftly, sinking down in his chair. ”And now I’m saying twice a week. In the meantime, I want you to rid your mind of all emotions every night before sleep; empty it, make it blank and calm, do you understand?”

”Yeah, all right…” Harry mumbles. 

”And I will know if you haven’t”, Snape adds. 

”Yes, Sir.”

His head is still aching when he joins Draco and their friends in the Common Room and he feels almost feverish. 

”How was it?” Draco asks, tearing his attention away from his books when Harry sinks down on the sofa next to him. ”Harry? Are you okay?”

”Yeah — no — I don’t feel too great”, Harry mumbles, clutching his head with one hand and squeezing his eyes shut. 

He feels Draco’s arm curl around his shoulders and gratefully leans into him. 

”Was it very difficult?”

”Yeah, no… try ’impossible’”, Harry mutters wryly, rubbing his forehead against the other boy’s collar bone with the hopes of relieving some of the pain and feels the blonde plant a kiss in his nest of hair.

They sit like that for a while, Harry snuggled into Draco’s side while the blonde continues chatting to Pansy and Daphne. But when Harry’s headache keeps intensifying, to the point where he’s beginning to feel sick, he pulls away from Draco again. 

”I think I’ll just go to bed”, he mumbles. 

”Okay”, Draco says soothingly, rubbing his arm a few times. ”You want me to go ask Professor Snape for a Pain Potion?”

”No, that’s okay… I’m sure if I just get some sleep, I’ll feel better…”

”Okay, if you’re sure…”

Harry begins to nod, but stops himself when the movement makes the ache worse. He’s barely made it to the dorm when his head is split open and he collapses on the floor outside the dorm, convulsing as waves of pain roll through him and he curls up and retches miserably, vaguely aware of voices calling his name before he passes out, but just before the darkness claims him, amidst the intolerable pain, he’s absurdly filled with a sense of pure joy —

He gasps for breath and feels hands on him, grabbing him and pulling him up to sitting, wiping his sweaty hair from his face, just as a dawning sense of dread begins to fill him; Something good has just happened, he thinks and he feels his blood run cold as the different possibilities of what could make the Dark Lord that happy, that triumphant starts to play out in his mind…

The next morning, he gets his answer as he settles down at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for breakfast and a barn owl delivers Draco’s copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry knows it’s bad, even before he sees the front cover, because all the colour drains from the blonde’s face. 

Feeling the bottom plummet out of his stomach, Harry cranes his neck and stares down at the ten portraits crammed together on the front page of the paper and feels the bottom of his stomach plummet. One portrait in particular catches his eye. It’s of a woman and both her beauty and her crazed grin are eye-catching enough in their own rights, but what draws Harry’s gaze to her is neither of those things, but the pang of recognition. He’s seen this woman before. Not in real life — although it felt real enough — but in one of Dumbledore’s memories in the Pensieve. It’s Bellatrix Lestrange, the witch Death Eater who was convicted along with Barty Crouch Jr. and one more Death Eater for the torture of two Order members. 

Harry swallows thickly as he stares into the the heavy-lidded, cold eyes in the photograph; He remembers those eyes most of all and the way she didn’t even bat one of them when the jury handed out the verdict. Barty Crouch Jr. had sobbed and screamed as the Dementers dragged him away, but this woman… Bellatrix Lestrange… had stood tall and proud as she proclaimed that her Master, the Dark Lord, would return and reward her for her faitful service… Harry shivers, and tearing his eyes away from the photograph finally, he stares at the headline above: ”Mass Breakout from Azkaban”