Nearly

Harry’s invigorated spirits carry him through several hours of celebrations in the Common Room despite a building headache and he decides that, instead of giving in to it and going to bed like he would normally do, he is going to take Seamus’s advice for once and simply drown it… Which is why he is draped over Pansy at midnoght, trying to get his tongue to work properly so that he can tell her something really important… Halfway through his struggles with his consonants, he forgets what the important thing is that he’s meant to be telling her, but his sense of urgency never wavers so he continues talking anyway. Pansy doesn’t seem to mind his rambling or his slurring, though, because she’s too focused on whatever she’s saying to him — so it’s all good, Harry thinks happily. 

Harry has actually lost count on how may drinks he’s had, because his goblet keeps refilling itself — he thinks it must be spelled, somehow. Or the house-elves have something to do with it. It’s not until he hears Draco’s voice somewhere to his left saying ’Seamus, he’s had enough!’ rather sharply, that it occurs to Harry that maybe Seamus is the house-elf prying him with firewhiskey (or whatever the spirits in the drink is. Harry stopped tasting it after the second one.)

Hah, spirits, he thinks and giggles into his half-empty goblet. Good spirits for my good spirits. 

”But, you know?” Pansy says passionately next to him and their heads bump together. 

Harry nods emphatically, even as small giggles keep bubbling up and escaping through the corner of his mouth. He knows. Definitely. 

”Abs’lu’ly”, he slurs seriously. ”Cou’n’t agree more!”

”Righ’? Right? Tha’s whaddam sayin’!”

”Yeah, defini’ly…”

”What are you two talking about?” 

Harry and Pansy’s heads bump together again briefly, before they manage to look up and locate the direction of Draco’s voice. They blink blearily at him where he’s sitting, watching them patiently from the other end of the sofa. Harry squints, trying to determine which one of him he should be focusing on, since there are now two of him and they are both giving him pinched smiles. 

”Er…”

”Wha’d you say, Dracie-poo?” Pansy says slowly, leaning against Harry so that she can see him better and causing Harry to fall back slightly. 

”I said… What are you two talking about?” Draco repeats patiently. 

”Er…” Harry says again. 

He frowns at Pansy, trying to remember. The girl frowns back. 

”Only it sounded very important”, Draco adds. 

Harry nods frantically, nearly head-butting Pansy but the girl chooses the exact right moment to lean back and fix Draco with a wide-eyed stare. 

”It is!” she says vehemently. 

”Yeah”, Harry agrees. 

”Very!”

”Imp’rt’nt, abs’lu’ly!”

”Yes!” Pansy exclaims as if Harry’s has just imparted a new wisdom on her and beams at him. 

”Right…” Draco mutters. ”Well, I brought you both some drinks. Here you go. Make sure you drink all of it—”

Harry struggles to wrap his suddenly numb fingers around the new goblet that Draco holds out, but eventually manages to clasp it in a secure grip and takes an eager swig — then immediately gags and splutters. 

”The Hell’s this?”

”Water”, Draco says, both of him giving Harry an unimpressed look. ”Drink it—”

”You tryin’ t’kill me?”

”Drink. It.”

”Aww Draco, yer no fun!” Seamus snickers. 

He comes staggering over to them and collapses between Harry and Draco on the sofa, half on top of the blonde until he’s roughly shoved away again and he sits up a little straighter. 

”Let them have some fun—”

”They are going to want blood in the morning and I will be the first one to point them in your direction, Finnigan—”

”Spoilsport—”

”Blaggard—”

Harry loses interest in the argument next to him and turns his head back towards his drink, but his head has grown a lot heavier in the last few hours and the force of the turn makes him topple forward and nearly slump to the floor. 

”Whoa, whoa—!”

Why is my head so heavy? Harry thinks faintly. And why does it hurt so much?

Suddenly there are hands clutching his shoulders and an arm pushing against his chest and pulling him back towards the sofa’s backrest. The movement makes his whole head spin and causes the pain in his head intensify, and he bats the hands and arm away impatiently. 

He’s had plenty of headaches in his life, but he’s sure he’s never quite experienced this before. His brain feels like it’s been turned into lead and yet it seems to be pulsing and throbbing like an organism… An organism that keeps sweeling and growing, pushing in his skull… It’s going to crack, he thinks in panic.

He lets the water goblet tumble from his fingers and clutches his head with both hands, groaning. 

My head will explode; Then what do I do?

The hands are back, clutching at him. He tries to twist away from them, but without releasing his head there’s not a lot he can do and he can’t let go of his head because then it will explode and he’ll be dead. Presumably. Maybe one can survive without a head, but Harry thinks it’s highly unlikely. 

”Okay, all right”, someone says. ”Let’s get you to bed…”

The hands stop pushing him back against the sofa and starts pulling him away from him instead. Other hands find his back and push on him. Bastards, Harry thinks. Ganging up on me. Bastard hands. 

He staggers to him feet and sway, nearly losing his balance and falling flat on his face — except something catches him on the way and his face ends up squished against something else, something vaguely familiar — the hands on his shoulders suddenly gain arms and he finds himself cradled in a firm embrace for a moment, before he’s gently pushed up to stand firmly on his own two feet again. They just stand there swaying for a moment, him and the hands, as he gets used to the feeling of his own legs and the manages to find his balance despite the undulating under him and the walls spinning. 

Then they begin to walk. The hands have gained arn arm again and what Harry thinks must be a body, that keeps bumping into him and knocking him off balance when he’s trying to simply put one foot in front of the other. He has half a mind to tell the body and the arm and the hand that if they’re going to insist on jostling him like this, he rather walk on his own.

”Watch the steps now…”

But in the end he decides to say nothing, because it feels rather nice to have the arm around him and the body bumping against him if he’s being honest… 

”Harry, can you…”

And also they smell really nice. He can’t put his finger on what the scent is, with his brain now turned into a quivering Dugbog, but he knows he likes it —

Suddenly the floor drops away and Harry flails his arms, clutching at the body and the arm and the hand in panic. The arm wraps around him securely and another one sprouts out of the body to wrap around him as well. That’s nice, Harry thinks numbly through the torture of the Dugbog thrashing around inside his head.

”Stairs”, a strained voice grunts. 

Right, Harry thinks and tries to look where he’s stepping and almost immediately loses his footing and falls. Or he would have fallen, had the arms not manages to hold on to him. 

”Merlin’s knickers!”

”Sssrrr”, Harry mumbles. 

”What?” the voice pants, sounding in near hysterics. 

”Ssssrrrr!” Harry repeats, annoyed because honestly, how many times should a person have to apologise?

The voice doesn’t demand a third apology, fortunately. It starts muttering about Seamus instead and how it’s going to kill him. Harry doesn’t think this murderous plot is much cause for concern however. It’s only a voice after all, so what can it do? 

Now, if the hands were talking about murdering his friend on the other hand… 

After much struggle, Harry manages to descend the stairs and the floor is once again flat under his feet, even if it is undulating. He tries to get his bearings, but before he can he’s being hauled across the floor and before he knows it, the hands have pushed him away and he’s falling… Gasping in horror, Harry starts to flail in panic, but he’s already landed softly on his back and only ends up squirming in place. 

”Calm down”, the voice snaps, then adds in a rather enraged tone. ”Harry! Stop kicking! I’m trying to get your boots off—”

But before Harry can respond to the voice, the pain in his head reaches its crescendo and his head finally explodes. 

When he comes to he’s standing in a dark, curtained room and his head feels incredibly light, the way it always does after a headache and the sudden absence of pain fills it. A single, three-armed floor candelabra stands in the middle of the room, just slightly to the side of the centre and the flickering light bathes the room in eerie shadows. 

He stands behind a black velvet armchair, gripping the back of it tightly. His fingers are long and spindly, and it could be the dim light of the room, but they look deathly pale, as if he hasn’t been out in the daylight for years and years, but this is only a fleeting observation, and his focus is almost immediately pulled towards the floor in front if the chair… In the pool of light from the candles, a man in black robes is kneeling, bowing so low that his head is almost touching the floor… He is visibly shaking… 

”I have been badly adviced, it seems”, Harry says and his ice-cold voice comes out sounding high-pitched and wheezy, barely above a whisper and yet the effect is just as powerful as if he would have shouted at the top of his lungs because the kneeling figure on the floor gives a sudden lurch and the shaking in his body doubles in strength. 

”Master, I crave your pardon”, he croaks, without lifting his head. 

”I do not blame you, Rookwood”, Harry says coldly. 

He unclenches his hands from the back of the chair and slowly walks around it, inching closer and closer to the cowering man in circles, like a vulture circling its’ meal. 

”You are sure of your facts, Rookwood?” 

”Yes, My Lord, yes… I used to work in the Department after — after all …”

”Avery told me Bode would be able to remove it.”

”Bode could never have taken it, Master… Bode would have known he could not… Undoubtedly, that is why he fought so h-hard against Malfoy’s Imperius C-Curse…”

”Stand up, Rookwood”, Harry whispers. 

The kneeling man scrambles to his feet, nearly tripping over in his haste and finally Harry can see his face. It’s pockmarked and sallow, his eyes are sunken but alert as he keeps darting terrified looks at Harry’s face. Although the man, Rookwood, is standing stooped as though halfway into a bow, he is clearly a fullgrown man of above average height, and yet Harry is taller than him which would normally strike him as odd, but at the moment, he is too caught up in the cold rage stirring under his skin. 

”You have done well to tell me this”, he tells the man. ”Very well… It seems I have wasted months on fruitless schemes… I only wish that you would have told me sooner… But no matter… We begin again, from now. You have Lord Voldemort’s gratitude, Rookwood.”

”My Lord… Yes, My Lord”, Rookwood gasps in relief, his eyes watering slightly. 

”I shall need your help. I shall need all the information you can give me.”

”Of course, My Lord, of course… Anything…”

”Very well. You may go. Send Avery to me…”

Rookwood clearly doesn’t need telling twice, because with a spasmodic bow he begins to scurry backwards and quickly disappears out a door half-hidden in the shadows. Harry watches him go grimly, gritting his teeth. Imbeciles, the lot of them, he thinks furiously and the rage slowly build inside him, burning white hot and threatening to burst out of him. But he tamps it down firmly. Only for a moment. Saving it for Avery —

Turning around a small, restless semi-circle, Harry glares towards the wall. A cracked mirror dotted with the signs of old age hangs there and Harry moves closer to it. As his reflection grows larger and clearer in the dark glass, a smooth face whiter than a skull floats out of the shadows and stares back at him through scarket eyes with slits for pupils —

”NOOOOOO!”

Harry startles awake to the feeling of being restrained and starts to flail even more desperately. 

”Harry! Harry, stop! Wait—!”

He can feel hands on him and realises he’s manages to get himself twisted up in the bed-hangings and Draco is trying to free him. He stops moving around immediately, gasping for breath and in the next moment, the hangings come away and he stumbles out of bed and land in an ungraceful heap at the blonde’s feet. He retches, and the feet jump back startled. 

Harry groans, curling up into a ball and clutching his head. It’s still pounding in pain and now his scar is searing as well. Another wave of nausea hits him and spasms, retching again. 

”Should I get Snape?” Draco asks uncertainly, squatting down next to him and gently rubbing his back. ”Harry? Do you want me to get Sna—?”

”No”, Harry groans. 

He uncurls and reaches out to grab the side of his bed and pulls himself shakily on top of it again. He lies panting miserably for a moment, vaguely aware of Draco sitting down next to him, now rubbing gently circles on his chest and sore belly. 

”Was it a nightmare?”

”No…” Harry gasps. ”Vision…”

The hand stills over his heart. Harry focuses on its comforting weight there for a moment and just breathes. 

”What… What did you see?”

”Him… And a… Death Eater…”

”Wh-who?”

”Rook… Wood… And he was just… Getting… Avery… When I woke up…”

”Are you sure you don’t want me to get Professor Snape?”

Harry shakes his head, then groans again. He reaches up blindly and presses his cold palm to his clammy forehead, feeling his hot scar pulsing underneath it. 

”He’s angry… Avery gave him the wrong information… But Rookwood is going to help him now, so… He’s on the right track again…”

Finally getting his nausea and breathing back under control, Harry struggles up to sitting and blinks into the darkness. He holds up his hands in front of him, relieved to see they’re back to normal again. 

”It was horrible…” he says hollowly. ”I was You-Know-Who… I…”

”Fuck…” Draco whispers next to him. 

Harry swallows thickly and turns to meet his eyes for the first time. The blonde’s face looks deathly pale in the darkness and his eyes are wide, even though he clearly just woke up, judging by his messy hair. 

”What’s going on?” Blaise croaks sleepily from the other side of the dorm. 

”Nothing, nightmare, sorry”, Harry calls out. 

He gives Draco a significant look and they both scramble back to sit in the middle of the bed instead, so that they can readjust the bed-hangings and throw a Silencio. 

”You-Know-Who was questioning Rookwood about something and Rookwood said that your dad had cast an Imperius on Bode to get him to do something—”

”Who?” Draco frowns. 

”Bode, he was my dad’s colleague, in the Department of Mysteries. Remember he had some kind of accident and was taken to St Mungos, where he was killed by a plant?”

”I don’t know”, Draco shakes his head impatiently. ”Is it important? You said something about Father?” 

”Yes, it’s important! Your father cast an Imperius on him so he could remove something from the Department of Mysteries, something that Voldemort wants, but Rookwood has just told him that Bode never could have removed it anyway, even if he hadn’t resisted your father’s Imperius! Voldemort was furious, said that was months of planning in vain, so whatever is in the Department of Mysteries, it’s obviously important to him!”

”Any idea what it could be?”

”Not a clue”, Harry shakes his head. ”But I keep dreaming about the door to the Department of Mysteries and in the dream I feel this longing to get it open and get to the other side… I never understood what the big deal was, but clearly Voldemort has been thinking about it all these months, yearning for whatever’s inside and I’ve been channeling that in my sleep!”

”Okay…” Draco nods. ”So what’s going to happen now?”

Wincing in pain, as his scar begins to sear once more, Harry clamps his hand back onto his forehead and rubs his scar furiously. Somewhere, Avery is being punished for giving Voldemort the wrong information, he knows. 

”Harry?” Draco says worriedly. 

”I’m fine”, Harry says shortly. 

”You should tell Profess—”

”No”, Harry shakes his head firmly. ”No. I’m not supposed to be seeing this stuff anymore. And if I was any good an Occlumency, and if I had done my relaxaton exercises like I’m supposed to, I wouldn’t have seen it… If I go to Snape and tell him, I’ll have to explain to him that not only did I not do my relaxation exercises before bed, I was also completely sloshed…”

”Yeah”, Draco mumbles. ”Better not.”

On Monday morning, the house noticeboard has a new notice pinned to it and on closer inspection it turns out to be an advertisment for all students, in Fifth Year and up, who might want to join something called The Inquisitorial Squad, signed as always by the High Inquisitor herself. Harry glares at it, feeling dread and rage start coiling in his stomach. 

He turns to Draco to comment, but his voice gets stuck in his throat at the thoughtful expression on the blonde’s face. Sensing Harry’s attention, he tears his eyes away from the notice again and returns his stare. 

”You’re not seriously thinking of joining?” 

Draco shrugs tensely. 

”What?” Harry exclaims, embarassed to hear his voice climb up into falsetto. 

”Keep your enemies closer…” 

”Yeah, but… This is a bit extreme, isn’t it?”

The blonde shrugs again. 

”Someone needs to keep an eye on her. Blaise and the girls won’t do it, they don’t like to get involved. Seamus would, but there’s no way she’ll take him, he’s still on her list of suspects and probably one of the people she’ll want this Squad to keep an eye on…”

”Well, better you then me, then…” Harry mutters, glaring at the notice again.

”If she wouldn’t take Seamus, you really think she’d take you? You’re like Enemy Number One…”

Harry turns to face him again and notices the smirk on his face. 

”You don’t have to sound so pleased about that…”

”Maybe I like it…” Draco says suggestively. ”Maybe I have a thing for bad boys…”

”Really?” Harry says in surprise. 

Draco’s smirk twitches and then smoothly morphs into a soft smile. 

”No, not really. I just have a thing for you…”

As it turns out, Draco had been wrong in thinking the girls wouldn’t want to get involved because they’re the first to sign up after Draco and they’re not the only ones. Harry counts seven signatures from their year alone, besides Draco and the girls, Theo also decides to sign up, as do Crabbe, Goyle and Millicent. And those are just the Fifth Years. There are at least ten older students on the list as well. 

When Draco, Theo, Pansy and Daphne return from the first meeting, they reveal that only Slytherins have decided to join the Inquisitorial Squad, or at least they’re the only once Umbridge has decided to accept, and her main reason for creating the Inquisitorial Squad is that she suspects Dumbledore is secretly training students in Defence Against the Dark Arts. 

”But the way she talks about it”, Draco says shaking his head. ”It’s more than just annoyance at being stepped on the toes. It sounds like she thinks he’s building an army or something, like he’s grooming students to help him overthrow Fudge…”’

”That’s insane”, Harry says. ”Like properly barmy. She is literally out of her mind.”

”Yeah, and guess who she suspects are the generals of this little army of Dumbledore’s?”

”Who?” Blaise asks curiously. 

”Granger and the Weaslette…”

”You said it, Harry”, Seamus says drily. ”Out of her mind.”

”No, hang on…” Draco says, smirking. ”It’s not that far-fetched… Harry, remember that time Granger and Weasel came up to you in the library and talked about wanting to start a DADA study group? And they wanted you to lead it?”

”Yeah…” Harry says slowly. 

”Well… Think maybe they started it without you?”

”I don’t know”, Harry shrugs. ”It’s possible… Are you going to get them into trouble?”

”No…” Draco snorts. ”As much as I want to beat Granger in the O.W.L.s, she’s currently the enemy of my enemy so… Truce, or whatever…”

”How gallant of you”, Harry grins. 

”It’s only temporary.”

The fact that only Slytherins have joined the Inquisitorial Squad and now have a power over the students of the other three Houses, immediately causes friction. After only one day, Montague goes missing.  Harry suspects the older boy was trying to abuse his power and bit off more than he could chew, and he feels a bit torn about that. 

He knows Draco and his friends won’t abuse their power too much, or if they do it’s harmless — for example docking a few points from Granger for being annoying, but not turning her in for running a secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. 

It’s all about perspective, after all, Harry thinks. 

But the tension between his House and the other three is really something that he could do without. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, as they leave a drizzly March behind and trudge into a dreary April, Harry and the rest of the Fifth Years become more and more aware of the impending O.W.L.s and feeling the stress more and more keenly. 

After having broken down in Herbology, a tearful Hannah Abbot stammered out that she is clearly too stupid to sit any exams and then requested dramatically to be taken out of school immediately. Professor Sprout, Hannah’s Head of House, kindly refused this request and sent her to the Hospital Wing and thus she became the first of many students to be given Calming Draughts by Madam Pomfrey. 

Within a week, at least five more students have been prescribed the same remedy and although Draco wasn’t one of them, Harry secretly thought he should be. The blonde is looking paler than ever and has large shadows under his eyes, since he’s now only getting about three hours of sleep a night, despite Harry carefully trying to encourage him to get some more rest. Whenever he tries, however, the blonde snaps at him and in his sleep-deprived state begins to accuse him conspiring against him, secretly hoping that his precious Gryffindor friend Granger will beat his O.W.L result. 

Harry rolls his eyes, but refrains from retorting, knowing there’s no point. 

*

”Get up…”

Harry sighs heavily and pushes to his feet. His knees click painfully as he straightens up and he wipes the cold sweat from his forehead. 

Professor Snape is glaring at him tiredly from his spot across the floor of the office, wand gripped tightly in his hand by at the moment hanging innocently at his side, Harry is relieved to discover. 

Once again, he’s come to kneeling on the uncomfortably hard floor of the Potions Master’s office, after having had his mind poked and prodded while having to endure an onslaught of jumbled memories, most of them from when he was younger but none of them very pleasant — it was all skinned knees, broken bones, nightsmares and Remus telling him off for not doing what he’s told and putting himself in danger at Hogwarts — and then of course, there was the odd embarassing memory as well… 

”That last memory”, Professor Snape says quietly. ”What was that?”

Harry frowns, trying to remember, but it’s getting more and more difficult to pinpoint any one specific memory from the rush of images and sensations that he experiences when Professor Snape breaks into his mind and digs around. 

”Ehm, I dunno, you mean the one when I spilled ink all over daddy’s—?”

”No…” Snape says slowly. ”I mean the one with a man kneeling in the middle of a dark room…”

”Oh… That…” Harry says, feeling his heart sink into his stomach. ”That… Is nothing…”

”Nothing?” Snape repeats softly, his dark eyes narrowing. 

”Yeah, nothing, ehm… Important…” Harry says, feeling a fresh layer of cold sweat break out along his hair line. 

”Harry… How did that room and that man come to be inside your head?”

Unable to look the man in the eye any longer, Harry ducks his head and glares moodily at the floor in front of him. Stupid floor, he thinks, reminded again of his bruised knees. Stupid, hard stone floor. I should ask Snape to get a rug or something —

”Harry.”

”Yes, Sir…”

”How did that room and that man—?”

”I had another vision”, Harry says before he can change his mind. ”I’m sorry. I should have told you, but I didn’t want you to be angry with me because I went to bed without doing the exercises — it was just the once — I was, er, exhausted, you see and —”

”You had another vision”, Professor Snape repeats softly. 

”Yes, Sir. I dreamed I was You-Know-You talking to that man, Rookwood, he’d just told—”

”I don’t need to hear it”, Snape snaps. ”I don’t need you telling me the Dark Lord’s business, Harry.”

”Yes, Sir…” Harry mumbles. 

”This is the only vision you’ve had since the one of Mr Weasley getting attacked?”

”Yes, Sir.”

”Harry, look at me.”

Swallowing thickly, Harry looks up again. Professor Snape’s dark eyes bore into him. 

”This is the only vision you’ve had since the one of Mr Weasley?” he asks again. 

Harry nods. Professor Snape’s eyes narrow further, but then he nods as well. 

”We will start again… Wand at the ready… One… Two… Three… Legilimens!”

The room is suddenly swept into darkness and Harry stares in mute horror as a cloaked creature is swooping towards him, its rattling wheezy breaths seemingly sucking all the joy and life out of Harry who feels himself grow weak and cold… He becomes aware of the shape of his wand in his hand and clutches it a little more firmly. He takes a deep breath, staring the creature down with determination… 

And then he sees Professor Snape again, through the image of the Dementor gliding towards him, he can make out his Head of House standing in front of him, his dark eyes staring at him intently and his mouth moving as he mutters under his breath… And the harder Harry stares at him, the clearer he becomes and the foggier the memory of the Dementor becomes. 

Raising his wand, Harry bellows, ”Protego!”

Suddenly the Dementor has vanished again — Snape staggers back, a look of surprise on his face as his wand arm flies upwards — and then another rush of images wash over Harry, except these are not his memories, he realises immediately: Looming in front of him is a hook-nosed man that he’s never seen before in his life and he is shouting at a crying woman, Harry feels fear and anger rage inside him as he huddles in the corner, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them desperately… He is lying on his back on a bed in a small, sparsely decorated room staring up into the ceiling, shooting down flies with his wand… He’s at Hogwarts, trying to mount a bucking broomstick while a scrawny girl with freckles and pig-tails is pointing and laughing… The hook-nosed man is back, now shouting at him while the crying woman is the one huddled in the corner, except the man is not nearly as tall anymore, that is to say, Harry is now almost as tall as him, and still he feels like the man is looming over him, his black eyes gleaming with hatred as he spits out the word ’Queer!’ with the deepest loathing —

”ENOUGH!”

Harry is suddenly pushed hard in the chest by an invisible force and goes flying backwards, staggering unsteadily as he tries to keep his footing, but almost instantly loses his balance and falls back against the wall of shelves behind him. He hears something crack behind his head and numbly thinks I hope it wasn’t actually my head —

Professor Snape’s chest is heaving and he is glaring at the shelf behind Harry grimly. Harry steps forward again on unsteady legs. Behind him something tinkles and drips. 

”Reparo”, Snape hisses. 

Harry chances a look behind him and sees an empty, but whole glass jar standing in a pool of dripping slime. Reaching up to feel the back of his head tentatively, covering the new bump there he feels some of the slime in his hair and pulls a face. 

”Well…” Snape says and Harry snaps his head back to face him. 

”I… I did it…?” He breathes out, hardly daring to believe it. 

”Yes”, Snape says tersely, avoiding his eyes. ”That was good work, Harry.”

He stalks over to the Pensieve and Harry watches curiously as he removes a few more silvery strands of memories from his head and deposit them into the ones already swirling inside it. 

Those were Snape’s memories, he realises with a jolt. That man and the woman crying, those must have been his parents —

”We will try again”, Snape says curtly. ”You may use a Shielding Charm again, if you wish. Clearly, it was effective.”

Harry doesn’t dare respond. The Potions Master seems to be vibrating with a contained emotion and Harry is scared to find out which one it is. Instead, he nods his head and plants his feet squarely on the ground, raising his wand with a steeling breath. 

”On the count of three… One… Two… Three… Legilimens!”

Harry is hurrying through the corridor outside the Department of Mysteries, but once again he is still aware of Professor Snape standing in front of him, muttering under his breath and he is just about to fire off another Shielding Charm when he sees it… The door… It’s open… 

His heart lurches in his chest. He begins to run, desperate to get to the door which is becoming clearer and clearer while Professor Snape gradually fades away again. 

With an eruption of pure excitement and relief inside his chest and stomach, Harry bursts through the open door to the Department of Mysteries — finally! — and finds himself inside a circular room with all black walls, floor and ceiling, lit by blue-flamed candles mounted all along the walls between more black doors… So many doors, all around him… Harry knows where he needs to go, but which door will lead him there—?

”HARRY!”

The circular rooms with all the doors are suddenly engulfed in darkness. Harry opens his eyes. The stone ceiling of Professor Snape’s office comes into view and he realises he’s lying flat on his back on the floor, panting as if he’s really been running through a corridor… 

”Explain yourself!” Professor Snape demands and in the next second his scowling face is shoved into Harry’s field of vision. 

Harry sits up with a groan. The back of his head is throbbing and he feels feverish, like he used to feel all the time when he’d just started learning Occlumency. 

”I… I don’t know what happened…” He says truthfully, trying to push himself to his feet, but ends up standing on all fours for a moment, catching his breath. 

”Get up”, Snape snarls, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him roughly to his feet. 

”Sir, I swear, I’ve never seen that before”, Harry mumbles, stumbling slightly on the spot. ”I’ve told you, I’ve dreamt about that door, but it’s never opened before, ever…”

”You —”

Suddenly, a woman’s scream can be heard from somewhere outside the room and Snape cuts himself off and jerks his head upwards, frowning at the ceiling. 

”What the…”

Harry looks up as well, straining his ears… He can hear commotion of some sort and someone sobbing and wailing loudly… That must be the Entrance Hall, he thinks. 

”Did you see anything unusual on your way here, Harry?” Snape asks him. 

Harry shakes his head. In the Entrance Hall above their heads, the woman screams again. Professor Snape clutches his wand with determination and strides towards the door. Blinking in surprise, Harry shakes himself from his trance and hurries after him. 

He catches up with Professor Snape at the top of the spiral staircase and nearly bumps into his back when the Potions Master stops suddenly at the sight before him. 

It looks like every single student has gathered in the Entrance Hall, thronging in the doorway to the Great Hall and all around the walls, and some are even crammed together on the Marble Staircase, eagerly craning their necks to see what’s going on… Harry does the same, stepping out from behind Snape a little more, he stands on tip-toe and looks over to the centre of the Entrance Hall where the crowd of students have left a space. 

In the middle of the space Professor Trelawney is standing, looking completely wretched with her hair sticking up in various places and her bottle bottom glasses hanging lopsided on her face, so that only one of her eyes appears magnified and the other looking shockingly small by comparison. They’re both swollen and red, leaking tears that run down the woman’s face as she sobs, mouthing silently as she stares in terror at something in front of her. Her many scarves and shawls are hanging loosely off her and some are even trailing behind her on the floor, giving the impression that she’s literally falling apart. 

What could possible have happened to make her lose it like this? Harry thinks, eyeing the wand gripped in one of the woman’s hands and the half-empty bottle of cooking sherry clutched in the other. 

”No! NO!” She shouts shrilly. ”This cannot be happening! I refuse to accept it!”

”You didn’t realise this was coming?” a familiar high-pitched voice says calmly. 

Taking a step to his left, so that he is standing slightly in front of Professor Snape, Harry can see Umbridge standing at the foot of the Marble Staircase, watching Professor Trelawney with a malicious little smirk on her face. ”Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow’s weather, you must surely have realised that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of improvement, would make it inevitable that you would be sacked?”

”You c-c-can’t — you c-can’t s-sack me — I’ve b-been here sixteen years! Hogwarts is my home!”

”It was your home, dear”, Umbridge says sweetly. 

Professor Trelawney gives a involuntary spasm, then sink down to sit on something standing just behind her sobbing uncontrollably. Harry realises it’s a big trunk that she’s sitting on and that another one is standing next to it, upside-down as if it’s been literally flung down the stairs. 

”Now kindly take your things and leave this castle. You are embarassing us.”

Professor Trelawney begins to rock back and forth where she’s sitting on her trunk, hugging herself and crying uncontrollably. 

Suddenly someone breaks free of the crowd in front of the Great Hall and Harry can see Professor McGonagall stride up to Trelawney with assured steps. She stops next to her and pats her firmly on the back and hands her a handkerchief. 

”There, there, Sybil… Calm yourself down… Here you go, blow your nose… It’s not as bad as you think, you are not going to have to have to leave Hogwarts—”

”Oh, really, Professor McGonagall?” Umbridge says, her tone now rather chilly. ”And your authority for that statement is…?”

She begins to walk towards the other two women, but stops dead when a low, deep voice wafts over from the front doors, ”That would be mine…”

The students standing in front of the doors scuttle aside to reveal Dumbledore framed in the doorway, and leaving the oak doors wide open behind him, he calmly steps inside the Entrance Hall and joins McGonagall and Trewlany, putting a calming hand on top of the latter’s trembling shoulder. 

”Yours, Professor Dumbledore?” Umbridge says coldly, then lets out a small, icy tinkle of laughter. ”I’m afraid you do not understand the situation. I have here —” she pulls a parchment scroll from within her robes and holds it up with an air of triumph, her buldging eyes gleaming. ”— an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister for Magic. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to inspect, place upon probation and sack any teacher she — that is to say, I — feel is not performing to the standards required by the Ministry of Magic. I have that Sybil Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissed her.”

Dumbledore continues to smile wanly throughout Umbridge’s little speech and his pale-blue eyes continue to twinkle with serene confidence. Harry frowns. It sounds like Trelawney is done for, so he doesn’t get why Dumbledore is still smiling at all… He looks up at Professor Snape questioningly and sensing Harry’s eyes on him, the Potions Master glances down at him briefly, but gives no indication of his thoughts. 

”You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge”, Dumbledore says and inclines his head gently. ”As High Inquisitor you have the right to dismiss my staff. You have not, however, the right to ban them from the school grounds. I’m afraid that the power to do that, still lies with the Headmaster, and it is my wish that Sybil Trelawney continues to live at Hogwarts.”

Umbridge blinks in surprise, before scowling furiously. She opens her mouth to retort, but before she can say anything. Trelawney herself has pulled herself back to her feet unsteadily, laughing harschly around a hiccough. 

”No, no, Albus — I’ll g-go — I know where I’m not wanted — I shall leave Hogwarts and se-eek my fortune elsewhere!”

”No”, Dumbledore says sharply. ”It is my wish that you remain here, Sybil. Please.”

He then turns to Professor McGonagall and asks her quietly to escort Trelawney back to her rooms. Professor Sprout breaks free from the crowd as well then and totters forward and together she and McGonagall seize Trelawney by the arms and gently guide her past a furious Umbridge and up the marble stairs. Professor Flitwick quickly follows them, levitating the two trunks in front of him.

”And what”, Umbridge asks Dumbledore in a deadly whisper. ”Will you do with her once I have found her replacement who will be wanting the lodgings?”

”Oh, that won’t be a problem”, Dumbledore says pleasantly. ”I have already found us a new Divinations teacher and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor —”

”You’ve found—?” Umbridge says shrilly. ”You’ve found? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Number Twenty-two—”

”The Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if — and only if — the Headmaster is unable to find one”, Dumbledore finishes her sentence fore her, with another curteous bow of his head. ”Fortunately, I have already found one. Thanks all the same… Now… May I introduce you?”

Turning to face the still open oak doors through which drifts wispy tendrils of night mist. Harry cranes his neck curiously to see the new professor and is surprised to hear the sound of hooves approaching the doors… He imagines he can hear Professor Snape let out a soft snort behind him, but he’s to intrigued by the new professor to look around to see if the Potions Master is actually smiling. 

There is chorus of intrigued murmurs around the crowd and Harry gasps when suddenly a face emerges from the dark mist. It’s a face that he’s seen once before, he realises. Several years ago, inside the Dark Forest: It’s an oddly square face with very sharp cheekbones, with blonde hair hanging in tufts down its sides, and two brilliantly blue eyes gleaming under a tufted fringe. It sits on the broad shoulders of a man’s upper body, that smoothly morphs into the palomino body of a horse. 

”This is Firenze”, Dumbledore says, turning back to smile at a dumbstruck Umbridge once more. ”I think you will find him suitable.”

When Dumbledore dispels the crowd, telling them to get to bed, Harry begins to look around for a a sign of blonde hair and is just moving away from Professor Snape when the man grabs him by the arm and fixes him with a hard look. 

”We shall resume your lesson tomorrow evening. Same time. And you better do your exercises before bed tonight, have I made myself clear?”

”Yes, Sir…” Harry says heavily. 

”Good. Now off to bed with you. Go.”

He points Harry sternly towards the spiral staircase behind them and Harry nods, dragging his feet towards it, thinking he’ll meet up with Draco in the Common Room instead. When he gets there, he’s the only one there but he is soon joined by the rest of his house, including his boyfriend and all their friends, everyone talking excitedly about the scene they’d all witnessed in the Entrance Hall. 

Harry finally excuses himself and retires to the dorm and dutifully goes through his relaxation exercises carefully, before collapsing into bed and falling into a deep sleep. 

The next evening, Harry manages to force Professor Snape out of his mind with a Shielding Charm for the second time and the man allows him a moment of triumph, smirking slightly as he tells him he’s doing well. 

”However”, he adds seriously. ”Now, you need to find a way to squeeze me out of your mind in such a way that I don’t realise what you’re doing… After all, as effective as the Shielding Charm has proved to be, it’s hardly discreet, now is it? And that rather defeats the purpose of dispelling the attacker, if you don’t want your attacker to know you’ve dispelled them…”

Harry feels his grin fall and slumps in disappointment. 

”Now, now, don’t be disheartened, Harry… You’ve made great progress… A Shielding Charm, however indescreet, is still an effective way of shielding your mind from the Dark Lord’s penetration… You have done good. We are merely taking you to the next level.”

Harry nods in understanding, sighing softly. 

”We will try again… Wand at the ready… On the count of three…”

Harry raises his wand and takes a deep breath. Professor Snape counts to three and immediately the spell whacks Harry in the mind and a memory rushes to the front, filling up the vision of his mind’s eye… He feels his heart begin to pound as he recognises the inside of the bed-hangings of his four-poster and to his utter horror, he realises he’s not alone… His memory self looks down and there is Draco, sprawled between his legs and grinning up at him as he begins to pull his pyjama bottoms and pants down in one swift movement —

Suddenly the memory dissolves and Harry stumbles forward with the force of the spell leaving him, gasping and blinking frantically. He feels his cheeks burn with embarassment and his heart is still hammering away inside his chest. 

There is a loaded pause and Harry stares at the floor, mortified. 

”All right”, Professor Snape says in a clearly put upon casual tone of voice, that tells Harry he must feel mortified as well. ”Let’s… Let’s try something different…”

Harry swallows thickly and risks a look at the professor. The man is clearly avoiding his eyes as well and even though he’s not exactly blushing like Harry is, he definitely looks ruffled. 

”Whenever I cast the spell on you, your mind immediately takes me to memories you fear or are… embarassed… about, in other words, memories that you don’t wish me to see, basically handing me weapons”, Snape says plainly. ”So this time I should like you to try and invite me to see harmless memories, as opposed to trying to block me out entirely… If you are successful, the next step will be to try and guide me towards false memories, but that is highly advanced and I doubt we will get there… At least not this year… For now, just focus on harmless memories that you don’t mind me seeing, and we’ll take it from there. Understood?”

”Yes, Sir”, Harry says immediately. 

”All right. Wand at the ready, on the count of three… One, two, three… Legilimens!”

Harry feels the spell burrow into his mind and when Professor Snape and the office begins to flicker out focus, instead of panicking he focuses on his deep breathing, just like his relaxation exercises, and allows himself to be filled with a sense of calm… 

Then as he feels Professor’s Snape’s spell nudge against his mind once more, instead of trying to push back, Harry welcomes it and gently guides it towards a recent memory of studying with Draco in the library… He focuses on the sound of the large clock, ticking away above their heads, tick-tock, in time with his breathing and his heart beat, tick-tock, tick-tock… He watches the dusty sunlights splay across the blonde’s hair, making it glow… tick-tock… tick-tock… 

Then slowly, he feels the pressure of Professor Snape’s spell ease away from his mind and the memory dissolves. Blinking, he refocuses on the office around him. 

Professor Snape lowers his wand slowly and to Harry’s immense shock, a small smile flickers onto his face. 

”Well done, Harry…” He murmurs. 

Harry beams, feeling his face flush again but for different reasons this time. 

Suddenly there’s a knock on the door and Professor Snape frowns at it, striding across the office to open it. Draco is standing on the other side and Harry is immediately reminded of the memory he allowed their Head of House to see and quickly ducks his head and stares at the ground. 

”S-Sorry”, Draco says. ”I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

”It’s all right, Draco”, Snape says swiftly. ”Harry and I just finished up tonight’s lesson… What is it?”

”It’s Professor Umbridge, Sir… She needs your help.”

”My help?” Snape repeats and Harry can just picture the unimpressed curl of the man’s lips. ”What with?”

”They’ve found Montague, Sir… He was jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor!”

Harry finally looks up and glances between Draco and Professor Snape’s now rather furiously scowling face. 

”How did he get in there?” The man demands. 

”I don’t know, Sir”, Draco says. ”He’s a bit confused…”

”Very well”, Snape mutters.

With those parting words, the man sweaps from his office, closely followed by Draco, and Harry is left standing alone in the middle of the room. 

He is just about to follow them, when something catches his eye… A patch of silvery light squirming on the doorframe, which reminds him of the pale blue light from the candles in the circular room with all the doors in the Department of Mysteries, that he caught a glimpse of during last night’s Occlumency lesson… 

Turning around, Harry’s eyes settle on the Pensieve on top of Professor Snape’s desk, it’s contents swirling around like the Dark Lake on a particularly windy day… Snape’s memories, Harry thinks with an excited jolt. Things he doesn’t want me to see, in case I manage to break through his defences…

Curiosity rising inside of him, Harry takes a couple of steps closer to the desk, his gaze never wavering from the silvery substance inside the stone basin. He’s already seen a few of them by accident. Images of the man’s childhood and adolescence by the looks of it, and one brief snippet from a Hogwarts memory even… What else could Snape be hiding from him? Could there be memories of his dads in there? Maybe some embarassing memories like the one of Harry’s that he accidentally let Snape see tonight. If that’s what they are, then Harry really don’t need to see them — 

But… Harry stares at the Pensieve’s swirling contents thoughtfully. Surely the memories he’s already glimpsed were embarassing? Yet it hadn’t occurred to Snape to hide them in the Pensieve before Harry glimpsed them. So maybe the memories that he’s been adament about keeping safe from Harry’s eyes are more important than that… Maybe they have something to do with Voldemort… Maybe Professor Snape knows about what’s inside the Department of Mysteries… 

Glancing over his shoulder at the closed door, Harry feels his heart begin to hammer in earnest as he considers his options… If he is caught, Professor Snape will show no mercy… But on the other hand, the man has to make his way all the way up to the fourth floor and back down to the dungeons again, giving Harry ample time to take a quick peek before leaving the office…

Mind finally made up, Harry shuffles over to the Pensieve and eagerly leans over the edge and thrusts his face into the swirling substance of Snape’s thoughts and immediately the floor of the office lurches beneath his feet and he is plunged head-first into the first memory… 

*

”Having fun?” 

Harry feels his blood run cold. Turning around slowly, he stares up into the enraged face of his Head of House, his face white with rage and his black eyes all but shooting sparks. Harry opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. As he blinks, a tear escapes down his cheek and quickly bats it away, feeling his cheeks flush with embarassment. 

Professor Snape grabs a hold of his arm in a painfully hard grip and the next thing Harry knows, he’s rising into the air and the sunny summer’s day dissolves around him and he’s standing in the Potions Master’s gloomy office once more. 

Professor Snape’s fingers tighten even further around his arm and then he’s roughly shoved back. He staggers away from the Pensieve and from the Potions Master, trying and failing to blink the tears from his eyes. As many times as Harry has been on the recieving end of the Potions Master’s furious glare, sure he’s half a heartbeat away from being cursed into oblivion, he has never seen the man shake so violently with repressed rage… Harry’s knees buckle beneath him and he staggers back another step. 

He feels stunned. His body is numb from the chill inside him at having witnessed… Having witnessed his dad… He shakes his head dumbly. He can’t believe it. It was horrible. His dad was horrible, and James too, and his daddy… His daddy did nothing to stop them!

”Well…” Professor Snape says, his voice strangled with repressed rage. 

Harry blinks, focusing on the man’s face instead of the memory of his younger self, hanging upside-down in the air. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something, anything, to apologise, but his voice catches in his throat and he ends up gaping soundlessly, as he stares at his Head of House in horror… Just before his vision blurs with a layer of unshed tears, Harry catches a flicker of betrayal and hurt in the mask of fury on the older man’s face and feels a stab of shame.

”Amusing, weren’t they? Potter and Black, very funny indeed, wouldn’t you say?”

Harry begins to shake his head. 

”No? You didn’t think that was entertaining? Everyone else certainly did. Your fathers were definitely popular when we were at school — all three of them!” He snarls. 

”I — I — I don’t — I didn’t —” Harry stammers, as fresh tears well up in his eyes. 

”Get out!” Snape barks. ”Get out of my office! Out! OUT! I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU — GO!”

Harry nearly trips over his own feet in his hurry to flee the room. The door slams shut behind him and a second later he hears something smash against it. He stares at the closed door in horror. Something heavy in his chest drops into his belly and stays there like a big lump of ice weighing him down. 

What have I done? He thinks miserably. He’ll never forgive me!

*

Towards the end of the last week of term, Draco begins to calm down a bit about his revision, knowing he’ll have all of Easter break to study without any lessons, Quidditch practise sessions or Prefect duties getting in the way, which is why, Harry figures, he doesn’t have an apoplectic fit when Umbridge calls a last minute meeting with the Inquisitorial Squad. He gives Harry an apologetic look and leans in to peck him on the lips, then leaves with Theo and the girls. 

Harry is relieved to tell the truth. Ever since he stole a look at Professor Snape’s memory of his dads, it’s been eating away at him but he hasn’t had a moment to himself to really process his feelings… After about a quarter of an hour of thinking about it, however, it becomes clear that the more he processes, the worse he feels. If he’s honest with himself, there’s nothing he can do about this. He needs to talk to Professor Snape and make things right with him.

But first, he thinks heavily. I need to talk to my dads. 

The very idea of confronting them with this, especially his dad, has Harry’s insides squirming. But there’s nothing for it. He needs to confront them and he needs to hear their side of the story, or he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to look them in the eyes again — it’s not like he’s likely to ever forget what he’s seen, after all… He shudders as the memory floats back to his mind’s eye. His dad as a teenager, grinning maliciously as James taunted Snape. 

And for what? Harry thinks desperately. Snape had been sitting alone, minding his own business… James just did it because — because my dad said he was bored, so James wanted to cheer him up! 

Harry blinks some wetness from his eyes and glares down at the book in his lap. He needs to talk to him. Both him and daddy. To Hell with Umbitch, he decides. He is going home for Easter, even if it means he’ll be expelled, he doesn’t care anymore!

But just in case, he writes a short letter to his dads explaining the situation and what Umbridge said when he showed her TheQuibbler, complaining innocently that he won’t be able to come home for Easter now, knowing his dads will sort it out for him. It won’t be the first time they’ve got him special permission from the Headmaster to come home to celebrate a holiday, so he feels confident that they’ll be able to this time as well. 

So that will solve that problem, he thinks dully as dread pools in his stomach once more. Then, of course, I have to actually have the conversation with my dads as well. 

He’s still preoccupied with this worry, when his friends return from their Inquisitorial Squad meeting looking rather exhilirated. Draco spots him where he’s sitting on his own in the corner of the Common Room and makes a beeline for him, his silver eyes glittering and he begins talking in an excited rush even before he’s sat down next to Harry. 

Apparently Granger’s DADA group had nearly been exposed tonight, when one of its members, a Ravenclaw girl that Draco doesn’t remember the name of, snitched to Umbridge who sent the Inquisitorial Squad to catch the group red-handed when they left their secret meeting room. 

”It’s this really amazing room on the seventh floor”, he tells Harry excitedly. ”It’s called the Room of Requirement and it can come and go at will, you just have to summon it somehow… Anyway… So we get there, but they’re already running all over the place, because someone must have tipped them off, but Pansy and I manage to corner Granger and the Weaslette—”

Harry blinks, frowning at the blonde uncomfortably. 

”Relax”, Draco says immediately. ”Obviously, we let them go — after a bit of teasing — they’re fine!”

”Okay”, Harry mumbles, sinking into his thoughts about confronting his dads again. 

Draco huffs in annoyance next to him. 

”Harry”, he says in exasperation, ”I don’t think you realise what I’m telling you!”

”I heard you”, Harry counters glumly. ”So Umbitch’s plan to catch Granger’s DADA group got thwarted. Big deal—”

 ”Big deal”, Draco repeats incredulously. ”Harry! Pay attention!”

Then the blonde reaches into his inside pocket and produces a piece of paper that he hands Harry with a flourish. Harry takes it and frowns down at the list of names scribbled onto it… And the heading Dumbledore’s Army… 

”Not only did we save the besserwisser and her girlfriend from expulsion”, Draco says quietly. ”If Umbitch had got her hand on this… Dumbledore would be in Azkaban by now!”

”What…” Harry says. ”Come off it…”

”Of course, we know that they just chose to name their silly little DADA group that as a joke… But what do you think Umbitch would think? What do you think Fudge would think? He’s convinced Dumbledore is conspiring against him — this would give him just the excuse he needs!”

”Wow, all right… That’s… Yeah…”

Draco sits back with a proud smirk. 

”Feels kind of good, doesn’t it… Doing the right thing…” He says casually. 

”And having half of Gryffindor in your debt has nothing to do with it, of course”, Harry says drily, but can’t help but to smile fondly at his boyfriend when he shrugs and flicks the fringe out of his eyes. ”Well, either way… I like this look on you…”

”What look?” Draco asks in surprise. 

”You know… The satisfied glow of having done the right thing”, Harry teases, sliding a little closer to him on the sofa. ”Or maybe I just have a thing for good boys…”

”Dorcus…” Draco murmurs, but his voice sounds slightly breathless and Harry is happy to see his pupils dilate when he glances at Harry’s mouth and licks his lips. 

”Yeah, you’re right”, Harry says lightly. ”I don’t. I just have a thing for y—”

The end of his sentence is muffled, when Draco leans in and captures his lips in an urgent kiss, but Harry doesn’t mind all that much. In fact, he doesn’t mind at all… 

*

On the first morning of the Easter holidays, Career Advice pamphlets appear in the Common Room as well as a notice on the house noticeboard, informing the students that all Fifth Years are required to meet with their Head of House in the first week of Summer Term, to discuss their future prospects. The lump of ice in Harry’s belly grows at the thought of sitting down with Snape and talk about his future like nothing’s wrong. 

During breakfast, Hedwig returns with a reply from his dads stating that he’s welcome home for lunch on Easter Sunday and if Umbridge has a problem with that, she is also more than welcome to join them so that they may discuss it with her. 

Despite the dread still coiling in his stomach, Harry can’t help but to huff out a chuckle. He shows the letter to Draco, who simply smiles and nods. 

”Yeah, I’ve seen that one”, he comments. ”Remus is awesome…”

”Yeah, he is — Hey, what do you mean you’ve seen that one?”

”That letter, I’ve seen it”, Draco says, nodding towards it. ”It was one of the ones I opened last night—”

”What are you talking about?” Harry demands nonplussed. 

”I’ve told you”, Draco insists. ”Umbi— er — Professor Umbridge”, he quickly corrects himself with a cursory look around to make sure he’s not overheard. ”She has the Inquisitorial Squad intercepting all the mail.”

”But — How?”

”I don’t really know”, Draco admits with a tense shrug. ”She just gives us the letters, we read through them and bring them back to her and report anything suspicious.”

”She better not have hurt Hedwig”, Harry mumbles, giving the owl a more careful look as he pets her, but she seems fine. 

When Easter Sunday rolls around, Harry struggles to keep his breathing even as he gets dressed in tense silence, feeling Draco’s cautious eyes on him the whole time but avoiding them. Finally, when he’s ready to leave he looks up and gives the blonde a pinched smile. 

”Sorry you can’t come, it’s just that—”

”You don’t have to explain”, Draco says quickly and looks away. ”It’s a holiday and you want to spend it with your family, that’s… That’s absolutely fine… I understand—”

”No, you don’t…” Harry mumbles. ”But I can’t talk about it now, or I’ll just…” 

Start bawling like a big baby, Harry thinks bitterly. 

Draco frowns at him. 

”Harry? You okay?”

”No”, Harry says truthfully. ”I’ll tell you about it when I get back, all right?”

”Why, what’s wron—?”

”Later”, Harry insists. ”Please. I have to go…”

Draco scrambles to his feet as Harry turns to walk out of the dorm and slaps his arms around him in a urgent hug, burying his face in the crook of Harry’s neck and breathing in deeply. 

”Okay…” He says in a small voice. ”I love you…”

”I love you too”, Harry says, hugging him back tightly. 

When Harry gets to Creirwyn’s Hollow, his dads are waiting for him outside, smiling and waving at him. He feels the lump of ice in his belly shudder and swallows hard. He realises then that there’s no way he’ll be able to sit through lunch and pretend like everything’s fine, so he decides to get the whole unpleasant business over with. So as soon as he’s hugged both men in greeting, he pulls back and asks if they can sit down in the lounge for a bit, before they eat. 

”Can’t we talk while we’re eating—?” Sirius asks mildly, but Harry immediately shakes his head. 

”Harry, is everything okay?” Remus asks him worriedly, caressing the side of his face whilst peering into his eyes. 

He shakes his head again. 

”All right, okay, let’s — Let’s all have a seat and — And you can tell us  — And whatever it is, we’ll fix it”, Remus says, nodding to himself and Harry can already see his eyes growing wild with worry. 

”Okay, so I’m going to tell you something that happened in my last Occlumency lesson, or just after it, but please let me finish before you say anything…” Harry says, feeling his heart lodged in his throat as his dads watch him warily. ”Okay, so… When we practise Occlumency, Professor Snape keeps some of his memories in a Pensieve, just in case I break through his defences and see into his mind…”

Harry swallows again and takes a deep breath to steel himself. He can feel tears prickle in the corner of his eyes but he wills them away angrily. He can’t allow himself to break down, not now. He needs to do this and he needs his dad to take him seriously. Because the one thing that Harry is the most scared of in this moment, is that his dad will start laughing like he’d done in the memory, or that he’ll dismiss Harry’s feelings about it. 

With a final deep breath, Harry starts talking. He makes sure to keep his voice even and devoid of too much emotion, but by the time he starts describing what he’d seen his dad and James do in the memory, his anger and hurt gets the better of him and he cuts himself off with half-strangled gasp. 

For the first time since he started talking, he looks up to gauge his dads reactions. Sirius looks angry, or at least affronted. Remus looks… Harry isn’t quite sure. Disappointed, maybe. 

”I know what I did was awful”, Harry says hurriedly. ”But I need to talk to you about… About what I saw in that memory… Because… Because…”

Unable to continue talking, Harry just shakes his head. 

”Because what?” Sirius says, his voice as hard as the look in his eyes. 

”Sirius”, Remus whispers immediately. 

”Because — You and James—!”

”What about us?” Sirius demands, just as angrily. 

”You were bullies!” Harry shouts and blinks away a layer of tears angrily, determined not to seem like a little baby now.

Sirius scowls and opens his mouth to retort, but Remus beats him to it with a quiet Yes that has his husband round on him incredulously. 

”You were”, Remus tells his husband calmly, then turns back to Harry. ”But Harry, we were just kids…”

”You were fifteen!” Harry snaps, his chest uncomfortably tight. ”I’m fifteen! You were as old as I am now! And I would never…” 

His voice catches in his throat and he trails off with a shake of his head. 

”I know, Harry”, Remus says and reaches out to grab his hand. ”I know you wouldn’t, and that’s something I am very proud of… But you mustn’t judge your dad or James too harschly. Yes, they bullied Severus—”

”What do you mean we bullied Severus?” Sirius demands. ”He was the freak who was into the Dark Arts! He called muggle-borns, including Lily, Mudbloods! He fought with James every chance he got! It was a mutual rivalry—!”

”Yes, but there were three of you and one of him”, Remus counters. ”Well, four of us and one of him, I should say… I never did anything to stop either of you and I should have. I felt bad about it then and I feel bad about it now.”

Sirius looks stricken and Harry realises he’s hearing this for the first time, and he wonders what his dad thought before… Did he imagine Remus thought it was funny when he and James taunted Snape? Did he genuinely not see their behaviour as anything but than funny pranks? 

”You said you were friendly with Professor Snape when you were at school”, Harry reminds Remus and gives the man a reproachful look, even as the anger inside of him starts to fizzle out again. 

”Yes”, Remus says, looking away. ”In sixth year we… We got friendly—”

Sirius snorts harshly and storms out of the room. Harry watches his daddy’s face closely as he stares after his husband, his eyes suspisciously misty and throat working desperately for a moment before he starts to speak again. 

”That’s my point, Harry… We all grew up eventually, your dad and James too, and… And I don’t want you to think badly of either of them, because they… They didn’t remain bullies, they… Quite the opposite, they were — and your dad is — good people, okay? They might have been petty and mean at one point when they were younger, but they more than made up for it as they grew up. I mean, why would Lily ever date, let alone marry, James if he didn’t change? And why would I be with your dad if he didn’t? Right?”

”Did he, though?” Harry says before he can stop himself. 

Remus’s face crumbles into a look of pure heartbreak and Harry feels it like a punch in his stomach. He wishes there was any way for him to take the words back, but there isn’t. 

”Yes. He did.” Remus says thickly. 

For a moment he becomes blurred as Harry’s eyes well up with the tears he wouldn’t allow himself to show his dad for fear of not being taken seriously. Ironically enough, he knows his daddy will always take him seriously, and now for the first time in his life he really doesn’t want him to. 

”Harry, your dad and I have always done our best t—”

”No, please, stop”, Harry sobs, his tears finally spilling over. ”I know that, please, I’m sorry!”

”Harry—”

”I’m sorry!” Harry exclaims. ”I didn’t mean — I don’t think you’re bad parents, or bad people, I just — I just —”

”Okay”, Remus murmurs softly. 

The next thing Harry knows he’s enveloped in one of his daddy’s strong hugs and shushed like the baby he was determined not to act as, but he is so relieved his daddy isn’t angry or disappointed in him that he couldn’t care less. He buries into the embrace gratefully and sobs quietly. 

”I didn’t mean it like that…” He sniffles. ”But dad is still so mean to Professor Snape, and I always thought he’d been really awful to you guys at school and then I find out it was the other way around, that you bullied him and — he was all alone, daddy! It’s just not fair—!”

”I know, cub…”

”He didn’t have anyone! He still doesn’t have anyone! And he’s really not that horrible, not really”, Harry sniffles again and pulls away just enough to peer up at his daddy’s face. ”When you get to know him, he’s actually caring and funny and—”

”I know”, Remus says again. 

Harry can tell that he really means it, so he nods and takes a deep breath to calm himself down somewhat. 

”It’s not fair that he hasn’t got anyone”, he says a little quieter. ”And it’s not fair that dad hates him and keeps saying mean things to him, I mean he has us and Professor Snape has no-one!”

”Harry… What you have to understand is that your dad grew up in an all Slytherin household where Pureblood witches and wizards were regarded as supreme beings while muggles were regarded as the lowest form of human, almost less than human — I mean, you’ve seen the portrait of his mother, that’s what she was actually like when she was alive. That’s what they were all like in that family. They thought Voldemort had the right idea, Sirius’s brother even joined the Death Eaters… Your dad despised all of it…”

”I know all this…” Harry mumbles. 

”Well, is it so strange to imagine then, that when your dad gets to Hogwarts and sees this — for lack of a better word — weird Slytherin kid, who is always on his own when he’s not trailing after Lily, completely obsessed with the Dark Arts and even rumoured to be a Death Eater…” Remus pauses and sighs. ”I’m not justifying what your dad and James did — and what you saw in that memory isn’t even the worst of it — but all I’m saying is that it’s complicated… And I really think you should talk to your dad about it. Listen to his side of it. You owe him that, Harry.”

”I know. I will”, Harry says and nods. 

”Let me go talk to him first…” Remus murmurs. ”You stay here, I’ll bring you some hot chocolate…”