A Year Like None Other

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or this fictional universe. JK Rowling, some publishers, and some film companies own everything. I'm not making anything from this except a hobby.

Summary: A letter from home sends Harry down a path he'd never have walked on his own. A sixth year fic, this story follows Order of the Phoenix and disregards any canon events that occur after Book 5. Spoilers for the first five books. Have fun!

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A Year Like None Other

by Aspen in the Sunlight

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Chapter Fifty-Three: Money Matters

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"Okay, I've got it at last," Harry said one night as he pored over the thick books Madam Pince had lent him weeks earlier. "You'll tell me if I'm wrong, won't you? Even if it's just one plant I've misidentified?"

Draco did his best to look bored and superior, but he nodded.

Meanwhile, Ron growled as he kept writing his lines.

Harry gave his friend a sympathetic glance. He didn't know how far Ron had gotten, but he just had to have made it well into the nine-thousands by then.

Catching the friendly look Harry gave Ron, Draco growled too.

Harry decided he'd do better to ignore them both and focus on what mattered for the moment: the Gryffindor well-wish. "Okay, here goes," he announced, checking the notes he'd built up over the past few evenings. "Bluebell flowers, almond blossoms, strawberry leaves, sage leaves, sunflower seeds, and iris flowers!"

"Not a wrong answer in the list," Draco confirmed, nodding.

"But not a complete list, either," added Snape from across the room. Harry glanced up to where his father was seated on the couch, legs elegantly crossed as he read a potions journal.

"I've covered every blossom, leaf, and seed, sir," Harry objected. "What do you mean, the list isn't complete?"

Snape smirked a bit. "The sunflower seeds have been adulterated. In fact, I'd advise against eating them."

"Poisonous?"

"No, merely unpleasant."

"I'll never solve it," Harry lamented as he plucked a seed out of the vase and studied it. "They're a bit browner than usual, I suppose, as though coated... but how am I supposed to know what they've been soaked in?"

"You might try asking a Gryffindor," Snape pointed out.

"Now you're recommending I cheat?"

"Actually, identifying the plants is often done through direct inquiry," Snape admitted. "Especially if one is not gifted in herbology or its sister science, potions." He was looking at Ron as he said it, which Harry thought odd, until it occurred to him that his father was giving him a pointed hint. Ask a Gryffindor...

"Ron," Harry ventured, a little hesitantly. "I don't suppose you'd know what Ginny and the others put in my well-wish?"

The Gryffindor boy kept resolutely writing, his brow wrinkled in concentration as he scratched quill across parchment.

"Ron," Harry tried again to get his attention. No such luck.

"Mr Weasley," Snape drawled in a tone that could only be thought threatening, though it was no louder than Harry's had been. Sure enough, it did the trick.

Ron looked up, his gaze a bit clouded. "Yes, sir?"

Snape narrowed his gaze. "Harry was talking to you."

Ron grimaced, the lie blatantly obvious as he all but sneered, "Oh, was he? So sorry, I didn't hear a word. What did you want, Potter?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, you've been my best friend for five years!" Harry exclaimed. "Stop it with this 'Potter' rubbish! You sound like Snape and Draco used to, which I'd think would be enough to cure you of it."

"Perhaps he needs to write several thousand repetitions of Harry has a first name," Snape mused, the words idle for all his tone of voice remained a potent threat.

"Harry," Ron conceded, scowling. "What did you want?"

"I think you heard me. About the well-wish?"

Ron didn't bother denying it, not with Snape there just itching to assign more lines. "Since it's not from me--not one part of it, is that clear?" he scathed, "I've no idea what went into it. Now, if you don't mind, I have seventeen more blasted sentences to write!"

Only seventeen? Harry couldn't help feeling relieved for his friend. As badly as Ron was handling the whole adoption thing, Harry hadn't enjoyed watching him come down night after night to suffer this punishment. He didn't care what Snape had to say about it, ten thousand lines was unreasonable. It had amounted to over four solid weeks of detention, which was completely out of line for something that was not in fact a Hogwarts matter. It wasn't as though Ron had vented his anger during class, or in the halls, or even to Snape himself. The incident had been a fight between friends, nothing more, and not for the first time, Harry felt a wave of frustration overtake him that Snape couldn't see that.

"I'm glad you're almost done," Harry softly vowed, not that it appeased Ron one whit.

"Yeah, me too," Ron grumbled, and he didn't mean merely that a relief from writer's cramp would be welcome. He meant he didn't want to be anywhere near Harry; it was clear to everyone in the room.

Speaking of writer's cramp, though... Harry went over to his father and sat down on the couch with him, saying, "Could you spell my hands again, sir? The charm seemed to last about six days this last time, but now they really hurt again."

Snape took out his wand and touched it to each finger and palm, murmuring in Latin, and then quietly said, "Arabic gum, Harry."

"You'd like me to fetch some?"

Snape laughed, the deep sound imbued with a father's pleasure. "No. Your well-wish. The sunflower seeds are coated in Arabic gum."

"Oh..." Flexing his hands, Harry beamed. "Thank you, Professor."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught Ron watching him with his father. When Harry glanced that way, though, the Gryffindor boy wasted no time in looking down at his scroll.

"Well," Harry said, making his way back to the table, "with Ginny's book, it should be a snap to find out now what the well-wish means."

"Won't that be interesting," Draco snarked. "I'm looking forward to seeing your face when you unravel it."

Harry couldn't imagine Ginny and Neville and the rest of them wishing bad things for him, so he didn't have any idea what Draco meant. Sure, none of the Gryffindors would have chosen for him to have Snape as a father, if it had been up to them, but they'd more-or-less accepted it... except for the two who'd always been his closest friends.

Not that Ron was acting like such a friend just then. Or Hermione either, really... though she wasn't anywhere near as bad as Ron. At least she had the grace to try to keep their friendship going, even as she hinted at her concerns and worries.

"You're just having me on," Harry told Draco.

"Use your book," the other boy told him. "You'll see."

"Professor?" Harry questioned, beginning to feel a bit anxious.

"Your friends have expressed their sentiments with exactitude," was all Snape would say. That didn't sound too bad. But then again, Snape was a master of the diabolical double-meaning.

"I'll just get to work then," Harry decided, flipping open Well We Wish You to look for the entry on bluebells.

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The research, even with Ginny's book, was a bit harder than Harry had anticipated. In the first place, the book didn't cover all seven things that were in his well-wish, and in the second, the entries it did have were far from complete. It covered sunflower blossoms and stamens but not the seeds, for instance. He'd just managed to figure out that strawberry leaves were a wish for luck and love --didn't sound bad to him-- when Ron shuffled his parchment and announced,

"There. Ten thousand, Professor. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be on my way--"

"One moment, Mr Weasley," Snape interrupted.

Ron was half-way to standing, but that had him flopping back down in his chair. "What?"

"You went from seven thousand nine hundred and eighty-one to seven thousand nine hundred and eighty-three, skipping the intervening number," the Potions Master intoned, some horrible kind of dark humour lurking in his voice. "Your punishment was for a full ten thousand sentences."

Harry was about to object that that was awfully petty, but Ron had already snatched the quill back up off the tabletop and was scratching off another sentence. Probably for the best. It was sure to get Ron released more quickly than arguing over the matter.

Or was it?

"There," Ron said again, stressing the word.

This time he stood all the way up before Snape drawled, his voice unmistakably ringing with dark pleasure, "There's also the matter of numbers eight hundred fifteen, two thousand forty-seven, and five thousand one hundred and four, all of which are positively illegible and do not come up to the standard I demand of my students."

"Professor!" Harry cried out. "Be reasonable!"

"I don't need you taking up for me, Potter," Ron snarled. Without even sitting, he rushed out three more sentences and then fuming, stomped over to where Snape sat and dangled them in his face. "There! Satisfied, now, you..." Apparently thinking better of whatever insult had been about to cross his lips, Ron hastily amended it to a scarcely more polite, "Sir?"

"Allow me a moment to consider the matter, Mr Weasley," Snape softly replied, but Harry heard the dangerous undertone in his father's voice. Uh-oh.... He sat on pins and needles while Snape studied the scroll he'd taken from Ron, the feeling only growing worse when his father stood up and from a high shelf, fetched the heavy roll of parchments that held the rest of Ron's sentences. One by one he unrolled the scrolls and examined them, his dark eyes rapidly assessing the massive amount of work Ron had accomplished.

Quite obviously, Snape didn't consider his revenge sufficient yet. His voice was rich with unholy glee when he finally announced, "It appears you have misspelled impugn on every one of these ten thousand sentences." Shaking his head with obviously false sympathy, he pronounced, "You will simply have to begin again and do the entire set over, Mr Weasley."

For a moment, absolute silence permeated the dungeons. Then it was broken by incoherent rage.

"I'm not doing the entire set over!" Ron screamed, his face going a tomato-red shade that was really very ugly.

"Professor, that's just vindictive," Harry pointed out, trying to keep his voice calm. Snape respected reasoned argument far more than emotional scenes, after all. "If the spelling really matters to you so much," he offered by way of compromise, "then require Ron to fix each sentence, all right? Don't make him start from scratch."

Ron, Harry noticed, didn't tell him to mind his own business, not that time. In fact, he looked between Harry and Snape with a light in his eye that almost looked like he hoped Harry had a little family influence to put to use...

"Since I went to the trouble of writing the sentence out for Mr Weasley in the first place," Snape told Harry, "the least he could have done was honour his punishment enough to copy it correctly."

"I copied it perfectly!" Ron yelled, his colour only getting redder, though Harry would have sworn that wasn't possible. "I spelled impune just like you did! I know, 'cause I checked! Harry told me it was spelled wrong, and I snuck a peek at the one you wrote, and I was writing it the way you said! I can prove it!"

"By all means," Snape said, his tone confident and relaxed about the matter. Well, it should be. Harry didn't think the Potions Master ever spelled anything wrong.

Ron curled a lip and stomped pell-mell over to his bookbag, where he made a mess of the table, strewing things left and right as he searched for the spare bit of parchment Snape had written on, all those weeks ago. For a while there, Harry thought he must have lost it and the argument would be moot. But then, at the very bottom of the largish leather pouch, Ron's fingers encountered a scrap he snatched up and held triumphantly in the air. "See?" he crowed. "See?"

"I suggest you see," Snape recommended. "After which you can clear my table of the detritus you've littered across it. Then, you may begin again at number one."

Ron bared his teeth and glared down at the model sentence Snape had written. Without warning, the most horrible look Harry could imagine crossed his face--purple by then. The expression was raw fury, and confusion, and then wiping both those out, an absolute longing to kill someone with his bare hands.

Someone? It seemed pretty clear the one he wanted to kill was Snape.

"You blood-sucking Slytherin!" he screamed, his voice going hoarse with the force of it. "This paper said impune with a U-N-E, I know it did! I checked! And now it says something else, 'cause it was hexed to change the minute I'd completed my detention, wasn't it, you great greasy git!"

"Ron!" Harry shouted, appalled.

"Oh, don't believe me?" Ron snarled, turning his ire on Harry. "What, you think I'm a liar? You think I'm so stupid I don't know a G from an N? Or that I'm trusting enough of him not to check, for Merlin's sake, when you said I was making a mistake?"

"I believe you!" Harry shouted back, because he did. He knew Ron well enough to be sure. "But stop calling Snape names before you get in worse trouble! Let's just get this worked out, all right?"

"I'm perfectly amenable to a resolution," Snape calmly announced, which heartened Harry until his father went on, "It merely needs to include another ten thousand lines."

So much for not calling names, Harry decided. "You really are being quite an arse about this whole thing," he told his father in a conversational tone.

"Yeah!" Ron shouted. He fell silent at a glare from Harry.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I believe I told you that I knew what would best instruct Mr Weasley. Accepting substandard results is decidedly not it. I don't believe your friend has learned much at all from the past several weeks of detention."

"Ron," Harry announced, turning his way, "tell him you're sorry, all right? Tell him you know he wasn't doing anything nasty to me, 'cause you know full well he wasn't. Those were rotten things you said. Now apologize and mean it!"

Ron swallowed something. Whatever it was, it looked huge. Turns out, it was. He had swallowed his pride. "I'm sorry, Professor," he choked out, looking at the floor instead of at Snape. "I.... That was bad, saying you were.... you-know, with Harry here. I know that's not the case." When Snape appeared absolutely unmoved, Ron added in a panicked rush, "I'll never say anything like that again, I swear! Not to anyone!"

"I'm certain you shan't," Snape remarked in a tone so smooth it was almost oily. "After all, twenty thousand lines is bound to deter anyone. Now, clean my table off and get to work!"

"Stop it!" Harry ordered, at the same moment Ron screamed, "I won't!"

Snape chose to reply to Ron's statement instead of Harry's command.

"You won't?" he echoed, brows lilting. "That's quite a thing to say to your Potions Master. You won't... Well, I believe that Hogwarts policies are quite clear about what happens in an instance like this, Mr Weasley. Should you choose to reject your chastisement, that is certainly your prerogative. Mine is to expel you, and do not think for an instant that I'll hesitate to do just that."

"You wouldn't," Ron and Harry both gasped at the same time.

"Didn't I just say I would?" Snape inquired of the air. "I thought I was quite clear."

"That is so unfair!" Harry shouted. "He did your punishment already!"

"He hasn't done the punishment I had in mind by any means," Snape calmly disagreed, a hint of a smile playing about his mouth. "Whether he will or not is up to him, but one thing not to be tolerated in Britain's premier school of wizardry is outright defiance."

"Fine, expel me!" Ron declared, stomping to the table and shoveling all his belongings into his bag. "I don't care. Fred and George are getting along nicely without a fancy-pants Hogwarts diploma, and so will I!" He began to head for the door.

"You need your N.E.W.T. scores if you're to have a decent career!" Harry called out to forestall him.

"Oh yeah, you and my Mum agree on just everything these days, don't you?" Ron sniped. "Well, I say Fred and George had the right idea. They had more pride and guts than to put up with Umbridge's shite, and I have enough respect for myself and Gryffindor, than to put up with his!"

The door was open by then, Ron practically yanking it off its heavy hinges, his pull was so violent. "Don't go," Harry implored. "We can work something out. I'll write some of your lines for you, for God's sake!"

"I don't believe you will, no," Snape put in, his voice composed. "Esprit de corps is all well and good, but in this instance, you can't do Mr Weasley's learning for him."

"Look, I know you hate him, but--"

"Mr Potter," Snape remarked, a layer of frost coating his words, "being my son doesn't give you carte blanche to criticize me, especially in the presence of third parties. There is such a thing as filial respect."

"I'm going before I start casting Unforgivables!" Ron screeched, and then he was running down the hall, not even bothering to close the door.

Snape closed it for him with a laconic wave of his wand.

Harry drew in a breath. "Well. He's gone now, so let's hash this out. What the hell do you think you're doing? You can't expel Ron!"

"Actually, I can," Snape returned, still with that same cold calm.

"Ron's done a tonne for this school," Harry said firmly. "Dumbledore will never stand for this."

"Oh, no? Let's review the facts, shall we?" Snape favoured Harry with a thin smile. "One, Ronald Weasley is not the projected saviour of wizardkind who must be shielded from outside danger at all cost. He is most decidedly not immune to expulsion. Two, he grossly slandered a faculty member in the presence of other students, no less. Shocking behaviour. Three, though I was entirely reasonable and proposed an alternative to expulsion, he has refused to do it to my satisfaction."

"Your so-called alternative was crap and you know it!" Harry shouted. "And what's more, it's not like Ron spread his comments around the entire school! It was just down here, just that once, and then he buttoned his lip up tight! And nobody believed him anyway, so it didn't do your reputation or your career any harm at all!"

"His comments were slanderous, all the same."

"If you expelled every student who slandered you, half the school would be gone by now! We all thought you were an evil bastard hell-bent on helping Voldemort! You did everything you could to make us think that, so of course we slandered you!"

"As you say, students were meant to think that. The misdirection suited the Order's needs. Anyone intelligent enough to form conclusions was going to form the ones we wanted."

"It started way back before the Order needed to misdirect anybody! And speaking of the Order, the Weasleys will have your head if you expel him. And so will Dumbledore, just like I said!" Harry folded his arms in front of his chest and glared triumphantly in Snape's direction.

The Potions Master didn't look worried in the slightest. He didn't even raise his voice, though it did hold quite a sneer as he announced, "I quite assure you, the headmaster will see things my way no matter what arguments Arthur and Molly Weasley may bring to bear. Potions Masters are notoriously difficult to engage. Very few have the patience to deal with children--"

"Yeah, including you!"

Snape completely ignored the interruption. "Albus Dumbledore certainly needs me more than he needs the goodwill of a minor official in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Department."

"All right, maybe it's within your power to to expel Ron," Harry acknowledged, going to stand right before Snape. "But don't, please," he entreated, looking up, green eyes intense. "For me. He's my friend."

"He," Snape stressed, "is no friend at all."

"He is, but even if you don't think so, that's beside the point. What counts is that I'm still his friend, Professor." Reaching out, Harry rested his palms on Snape's forearms. "So I'm asking. I'll beg if that's what you want. Don't expel Ron, sir. Please, please don't. For me."

Something like regret filled Snape's eyes, telling Harry even before the man spoke what his answer would be. "This isn't a matter for you to decide," he announced, shaking off Harry's touch. "I can't abide open defiance. If you'll excuse me, I do believe the expulsion paperwork awaits me in my classroom office."

As Snape flooed away, Draco burst out into raucous laughter.

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"Shut up, it isn't funny!" Harry immediately objected.

"The fuck it isn't funny," Draco retorted, still laughing. "The little shite should have been expelled when he tried to make me eat slugs, but no, everybody decided that his hex backfiring was punishment enough. I've been waiting for this day for years!"

Harry narrowed his eyes in warning, but Draco wasn't deterred in the slightest. "I wonder if the house-elves will send up some champagne if I say we've cause for celebration," he mused.

"You're so hateful!" Harry cried.

"It's his own Gryffindorishness getting him into hot water," Draco said, laughing even harder at the word he'd coined. "All that insistence that life should be fair. Well, it isn't fair! If it was, you wouldn't have lived all those years with people who hated you, and I wouldn't have lost the lion's share of my money when I made the choice to side against my father. Weasley needs to grow up. Hell, anybody with half a brain would just have written the next ten thousand and been done with it. If he's stupid enough to throw away his education, he's too stupid to be here, anyway!"

"Ron doesn't deserve what Snape's decided to do!"

Something flashed in Draco's eyes. Something ugly. "Oh, you want to discuss what people deserve, do you? What about what Severus deserves from you? You said you believed Weasley over him!"

"I did not! Snape didn't deny the paper was hexed!"

"You took a Weasel's side, over that of your father and Head of House!" Draco raged on, stomping up to yell straight into Harry's face. "Your behaviour about this whole detention issue has been disgusting from start to finish! I've lost track of the times you've tried to get Severus to lighten Weasley's punishment!"

"Because it was unreasonable!"

"No, it wasn't. It was merciful, you idiot! Severus generously let Weasley write lines instead of expelling him forthwith, and why do you think that was? Because the Weasel is such a good friend of mine? Shite, Harry, Severus did you a huge favour and what did you do? You argued with him for weeks, called him an arse to his face, and when it came right down to it, took sides against him!"

"I stood up for what was right!" Harry shouted. "Ten thousand lines is bloody vengeful, that's what it is!"

"Oh yeah? Well what do you think would happen to me if I accused McGonagall of shagging a student in her spare time?" Draco grimly nodded at the look that crossed Harry's face. "Brings it home, does it?" he sniped. "You can't imagine her merely assigning lines, can you?"

"No," Harry admitted.

"Well, there you have it," Draco pronounced. "Severus stood up for you, so to speak, and I for one don't blame him in the least if he's decided it just wasn't worth it. You chose Weasley over the man who rearranged his whole life to help you, then let you in it! You don't deserve to be his son!"

"You're just jealous," Harry accused.

"Jealous, of you?" Draco scoffed. "Of a Gryffindor so cowardly that he has to be bribed before he'll try the slightest trace of magic on his own? I might burn up!!!" he mimicked Harry's worries, saying them in a high, girlish voice. "Yeah, I'm jealous. I really, really wish I made a habit of stomping all over Severus every chance I get, right. I wish I was so effing stupid it took me weeks to identify a few plants, or that I was pathetic enough to make a sodding snake my closest confidant while I completely ignored a father who clearly wanted to be there for me--"

"Shut up!" Harry screamed, stung by the criticism. "You are jealous! You said it yourself, when you ran into trouble Snape helped get you emancipated, but me he adopted! And you can't stand it, that he passed you over and chose me, can you?"

"He chose you, yeah!" Draco shouted back. "And I dealt with it! But it makes me sick that after that, you keep choosing Weasley! Fuck, Harry! It's like he's all that matters to you!"

"And what matters to you, Malfoy? Money! Yeah, that's right. Money matters and that's about all that does!"

Draco clenched both his fists. "How can you say that? I lost a shiteload of money coming over to your damned side in this war, Potter!"

"Big effing deal when you knew you'd have a big pile left!" Harry accused. "I know about your trust account, the one you have nominal control over even now. Yeah, money matters to you. You just about choked when you thought I was giving my vault to Snape! And even when you knew I was just giving him control of it until I'm grown, you told me I was off my rocker!"

"Yeah, because that was bloody stupid of you!"

"You think so because your money is all that matters to you!"

"That's not true! Look at where I'm living, look at what I've chosen! Severus knows--"

"I'll tell you what Severus knows," Harry interrupted in a deadly cold voice. "He knows you'd choose money over him in a flash, Malfoy. Why do you think you weren't adopted, too? The casewitch wanted things that way. She practically demanded it. And Snape said no."

Draco blinked in shock, almost seeming to wilt before Harry's eyes. "He... he did not," the Slytherin boy weakly asserted. "You're... you're making that up."

"He said he knew you'd rather have your mountains of Galleons than him for a father!"

"Harry!" said a shocked voice from behind him. A voice that was cold, clear through.

Turning, Harry saw his father highlighted by the dying flare of the Floo. Caught up in the vicious argument, he'd never heard the roar of the flames.

Harry cringed, wondering how much Snape had heard. He wasn't left to wonder long. "Five hundred points from Gryffin--" the Potions Master began to roar.

"No! Stop!" Draco cut him off, blond hair flying as he rushed forward. "Don't take points! Half of them will come from Slytherin!"

"True," Snape acknowledged, lowering his wand, but only for an instant. "Well, well. An interesting dilemma. However, as Mr Potter is not the only Gryffindor who has seriously displeased me this evening, I do believe a solution is at hand," he growled, glaring at Harry. "Five hundred points from Gryffindor on behalf of Ronald Weasley!"

Furious that Snape would involve Ron like that, Harry sniped, "That's a bit like ten thousand lines, isn't it? Do you even know any punishments that aren't laughably excessive?"

"So you're laughing, are you?" Snape scathed, disgust lacing every syllable. "I've misjudged you, it seems. How dare you say such things to Draco!"

"How dare I tell the truth, you mean?"

"Your truth, not mine," Snape retorted. "Did I say he'd choose money, Harry? Did I give him a choice?"

"You didn't give him a choice because you knew what he'd choose!"

"I didn't give him a choice because that was best for him, you simpleton! I care about Draco too, or has that conveniently escaped your slipshod memory?"

Simpleton, not idiot child. That stung. But Snape wasn't through. "Moreover, information about Draco's trust was private, arising in the context of a confidential interview! You knew I expected you to respect that! Now you not only bandy it about, you attribute to it motives I certainly never intended it to have? You have betrayed my trust!"

"He called me stupid!" Harry defended himself. "He said I didn't deserve to be your son!"

"At the moment, you are being stupid!" Snape harshly announced. "And you don't deserve to be my son!"

Harry stood rooted to the spot, something in him dying with those words. "Professor--"

"No!" Snape shouted, taking a step forward, his eyes glaring daggers. "Don't say another word. What you have told Draco is indefensible, absolutely indefensible!"

"But--"

"Get out of my sight," Snape ordered in a markedly calmer tone. To Harry, that was all the more frightening. Yelling and blustering he could take; Uncle Vernon used to do it all the time. But this deadly cool voice, coming from a man who sounded like he genuinely didn't care if Harry lived or died... this was worse. Much, much worse.

Harry nervously cleared his throat. "Professor?"

"Now, Harry. Out of my sight. I don't wish to see you."

Ever.

The word hung between them, unsaid yet tangible, the past months shattering under the force of it.

Harry went to his room and slammed the door, then got into bed and buried himself under the covers.

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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:

Chapter Fifty-Four: Out of Sight

~

Comments very welcome,

Aspen in the Sunlight