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-Five: Wisdom

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Harry all but cringed. Unadopt? Was that even a word?

He shook his head to clear it of irrelevant thoughts, and tried to get his mind back onto what mattered. The dream.

All right, so he'd had a seer dream about Snape unadopting him. Pretty scary, considering all his seer dreams to date had come true. Of course, there had been that time Snape had woken him up claiming that Harry had been screaming in Parseltongue. Harry had counted that as a seer dream for a while, but later he'd really wondered if it had been. In the first place, he didn't remember dreaming it so couldn't know if it had followed the past-spinning-into-future pattern. And in the second place, he wasn't sure Snape knew what he was talking about. He still didn't see how anybody could scream in Parseltongue, anyway!

So, that one probably didn't count, which left Harry with a horrible fact to face: his seer dreams always came true, and he'd just seer dreamed that by the beginning of spring, Snape wasn't going to want Harry Potter for a son any longer.

Of course, for all Harry knew, the man felt that way already. Yesterday's events would certainly seem to bear that out.

But the dream had very strange implications, considering Harry's entire situation. In the dream, he'd been all packed to leave the dungeons, so clearly he was going to go back to the Tower. But Snape would never make him leave the protection of the wards, not unless Harry's magic was back in full. But an unadoption would undo the wards anyway, wouldn't it? Even hating him, Snape wouldn't take a step like that... unless, again, Harry didn't need those wards any longer.

Harry took a breath. All right, all right. So what did the dream mean? If it was true, it just had to mean that by early spring, his magic would be back.

But what if the dream wasn't a seer dream at all? He'd woken up sort of assuming that was the case, but panic had a way of choking off rational thought. Now that he was more awake, and calmer, it occurred to Harry that in one important sense, he'd never had a seer dream like that one.

Because in that one, he'd dreamed about a real concern, a real problem, something already on his mind.

He hadn't gone to sleep back in Sirius' house worrying about the house on Privet Drive being destroyed or fretting that he'd punch Ron or that Draco Malfoy, of all people, might start declaring them brothers. Those dreams, and all the others, had come from absolutely nowhere. Whereas this one...

Well, he had gone to sleep last night worried and upset and pretty much wondering if Snape was ever going to forgive him. It hadn't just been the fight causing him to feel that way. It was all day with a locked door, and the fact that Snape hadn't answered Harry's knock in the night. Though for all he knew, there might be a good reason for that. Still, he'd been worried. Horribly worried.

And then he'd dreamed.

He remembered what the Muggle psychology book had had to say about dreams. They reveal our deepest fears...

Well, that certainly fit. He'd never felt exactly secure as Snape's son. It had always struck him as... well, fantastical. After all, this was Severus Snape. There was too much past history between them for the adoption to seem completely natural so soon. And then that awful fight, and the way Snape had taken points, and the horrible thing he'd said, so of course Harry ended up filled with jitters about whether he was really wanted or not.

Anyway, he was used to being unwanted. The other feeling was the one that was hard to believe, and even harder to get used to. So maybe the dream hadn't been prophetic. He'd just been living out one of his worst fears. When he thought about it that way, everything made perfect sense. Even the key. To Harry, Snape having his vault key really sort of cemented their new relationship. So what else would his mind dredge up to scare him, except a return of the key?

But what about the pattern? some thought snuck through to ask. The past. The spinning. The future. If it was just an average dream, why did it follow that particular pattern? Why did the dream disguise itself as something more than it was?

Good question, but when Harry thought about it, there was indeed an answer. Because the seer dream pattern is known to me by now, he firmly told himself. It was my.... what did that book say?... it was my subconscious, taking hold and making the dream the worst sort of nightmare I could have, the kind I'll actually wake up still believing. Or maybe it was my subconscious trying to warn me, even. Like... look out, Harry, this could end up happening... if you let this latest fight get out of control. Maybe my mind was trying to tell me that I'd better work harder to work this all out, or I could lose my father.

And I don't want to lose him.

I really, really don't.

So, Harry realised, whether the dream was a warning or just a nightmare, making the first move toward a reconciliation would be the mature thing to do. It seemed like forever since he'd thought about it, but he'd started this year trying to be a bit more mature, hadn't he? Lately, in the upheaval of the adoption and everything else, he'd lost track of that.

But Draco had been right; hiding in his room sulking--yes, he recognised it now, he had been sulking--was pretty childish behaviour. Even if he'd sort of been trained to make himself scarce when Uncle Vernon was on a rampage. Snape wasn't like Uncle Vernon; Harry knew that.

Of course, Harry told himself, he hadn't been completely juvenile the day before. He had in fact already tried to work things out with Snape, but the man had locked the lab and then later, hadn't answered the knock on his bedroom door. Well, maybe he'd still been too angry to talk. Or maybe he hadn't even been home. How would Harry know? It wouldn't be the first time Snape had worked in his classroom office, or the larger potions lab that adjoined it, until the wee hours of the morning.

Give the man the benefit of the doubt, Harry decided.

Give the dream a good dose of doubt, too, he mentally added. Until he had some real reason to believe it, he was going to assume the dream had just been his own wandering mind. Because that's what most dreams were, right? They reveal our deepest fears.

So... he'd work hard to get back on good terms with Snape, and try his best to stay that way. And then the man wouldn't have any reason to unadopt him, right? Everything would be fine.

But your seer dreams always come true, a nagging little voice whispered in his mind. Always. Always always always.

Harry mentally shouted back at the voice: Shut up.

Because he wasn't going to think that way. He just wasn't. Rolling out of bed, he fetched some clean clothes, and went into the bathroom to shower and change.

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When he emerged, Draco was sitting up in bed. "You're up early."

The Slytherin boy's voice was matter-of-fact, holding none of last night's scathing scorn. Maybe he'd gotten it out of his system and was ready to be friends again? A bit encouraged by that, Harry made sure his own tone was level as he admitted, "Yeah, I didn't sleep so much."

"Nightmare?" Draco's voice that time was actually concerned, which of course made Harry feel like even more of a jerk than before.

"No, just... feeling guilty, I guess," he quietly admitted. "I shouldn't have said that, about your money. I'm very sorry."

Draco gave a shrug as though it wasn't any big deal, but to Harry the gesture seemed deliberate, not relaxed.

At a loss for how to proceed, Harry ventured, "What would you like for breakfast? I could Floo for whatever suits..."

"You go have breakfast with Severus," Draco advised. "I have a feeling the two of you are overdue for a little father-son chat."

Now Harry was left feeling like a total heel. "Oh, no... I mean, I don't want... well, I do, but..." He started over. "I really do think that Severus would have liked to adopt you, too--"

"I know," Draco interrupted. "We had quite a long talk about it."

"So come on out to breakfast," Harry urged. "I don't want you to feel excluded."

"Are you afraid to go out there alone and face him?" Draco challenged.

Hearing it put that way made Harry realise that he actually was. It was one thing to tell himself that he hadn't really had a seer dream about being completely rejected, but it was quite another to believe it. If he went out there to breakfast, and the man was still hateful and awful, still telling him to get out of his sight... well, that would be bad enough news that Harry was frankly reluctant to leave the room at all.

Giving up on waiting for an answer, Draco went on, "Listen, I shouldn't have said you were a coward, all right? I know for a fact you aren't. Your bravery on Samhain was impossible to miss, and it showed the Death Eaters up for the weaklings they are, and that's what opened my eyes to what I was about to choose." The Slytherin boy met Harry's eyes. "I somehow doubt I'd have lasted long in his service, which means your lack of cowardice saved my life. So.... what I said about your magic... I just meant, I'm really frustrated and worried that it's taking so bloody long to get it back, and I guess I think you have some... issues, getting in the way."

Yeah, issues... like dreams predicting an unadoption. If Harry was sure of anything, it was that he definitely had some issues. Starting with, how was he going to approach Snape to get them past their awful fight? What if his father still hated him?

"I'm not afraid to face Severus," he lied, biting his lip. "But um... just for reference, do you know how mad he still was last night? I mean, did he say anything about it?"

"We were actually pretty wrapped up in a Potions project."

Harry wasn't sure what he thought about that. He decided the best thing he could do was shelve it. "Are you sure you won't come out and have breakfast with us?"

"Think I'll have a lie-in," Draco said, faking a yawn. He slid back down into his bed, and waved a laconic hand for Harry to leave. "You go on."

So, Harry did, wondering all the while what sort of reception awaited him on the other side of that closed door.

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"Good morning," Snape calmly said when Harry emerged from the bedroom. The man had been perusing the Daily Prophet, but he laid it aside as Harry slid into his seat at the dining table.

"Er... good morning," Harry slowly answered. He wasn't quite sure how to act. Snape didn't seem boiling over with fury, certainly, but Harry still felt apprehensive. He poured himself a cup of tea, only to stare into his cup when he realised it was actually coffee. Ugh.

"Not your preference, I take it." Snape conjured a pot of tea along with a new cup, then poured and added milk, just the way Harry liked it.

"Thanks," Harry murmured, glancing at Snape over the top of his cup as he wondered what else he should say. Small talk, maybe. Before he could come up with anything, Snape broke the silence.

"Has your scar been bothering you?"

Harry almost flinched. All he could think was that Snape was trying to see if his magic was finally starting to stream back. Was he so eager to be rid of Harry?

"No, sir." Something inside him seemed to deflate with the quiet words, and it only got worse when Snape pressed:

"Are you certain? Not even a twinge?"

Shaking his head, Harry decided he'd better change the subject. "Er.... anything interesting in the Prophet, sir?"

"You might say that," Snape drawled, pushing the paper across the table. Horror in the Lake District, the headline read. "There was a large-scale Death Eater meeting yesterday."

So that's why he asked about my scar, Harry realised. The dream must have set him on edge; he was seeing double meanings everywhere. And he had to stop it, otherwise he might get so jittery that it caused yet more problems. He had to act like everything was normal. "Um, does the Order know anything? About what Voldemort might be planning?"

Snape shrugged. "There was a survivor to the latest carnage. A cat, actually. The Order is meeting later today to discuss whatever memories Minerva or Albus can charm from the animal." Correctly interpreting the look on Harry's face, Snape growled, "No, you may not attend the meeting."

Well, that certainly seemed like things were back to normal. Pushing his chair back, Harry went to the Floo and ordered some breakfast. When the food appeared on the table, Snape raised an eyebrow. "Hungry, are we?"

Hmm, maybe he had overdone it a bit. "I didn't each much yesterday," he excused himself, and began loading bangers, eggs, French toast, and thick ham slices onto an empty plate.

"How much is not much?" Snape darkly inquired.

Harry thought briefly of exaggerating a bit, then decided that would be bloody stupid in the circumstances. "Couple of pieces of candy," he admitted, flushing as he began to eat.

"A couple of pieces of..." Snape frowned, then assessed him critically. "Were you feeling ill?"

Harry swigged down some orange juice as he wondered how to answer. He could just say yes and that would be that. But just as before, he had a sense that lying to his father wasn't going to help them in the long run. And after that dream, it was the long run that concerned him. "Just worried, I think. I mean, you were awfully mad at me."

"And this made you stop eating?" Snape asked, his voice incredulous.

"I wasn't hungry."

Snape stared at him for a moment, his eyes calculating something, but instead of replying, he served himself some eggs and began to eat. Only after he had finished did he speak again. "Did you find some time yesterday to decipher the Gryffindor well-wish?"

"Not so much, no."

"You worked on your assignments?"

"Um, no."

Again, a long stare. "You are feeling more yourself today, I trust."

"Yes, sir."

Nodding, Snape pushed to his feet and began draping himself in the formal robes he hung by the door each night when he returned from teaching classes. Harry watched in confusion. "It's Sunday, isn't it?" Then it came to him. "Oh, the Order meeting."

Snape shook out the folds in his robes. "That's a bit later. At the moment I must attend a conference with the Weasleys."

So much for appetite. Memory crashing in on him, Harry shoved his plate away. He'd begun feeling a bit better when it seemed that Snape wasn't angry at him any longer, but the Ron issue brought all his own anger roaring back. He struggled to repress it, to stay mature even in the face of Snape being anything but. "Ah, Professor... don't you think you overreacted that night? To Ron and all?"

"I've actually been extremely patient with Mr Weasley's idiocy," Snape had the gall to claim.

"You call ten thousand lines patient?" Harry gasped.

"Harry," Snape drawled, his booted heels clicking on the stone floor as he approached the boy again, "why do you think I required him to write his lines down here?"

Baffled, Harry remembered, "So he couldn't cheat, you said."

"Don't you suspect I could have accomplished that objective another way, had I wished?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I figured you had Fred and George in class enough years to be a bit wary of Weasley inventiveness."

Mouth quirking a bit, Snape murmured, "There is that, I suppose. However, I required Mr Weasley to serve his detention here because his true punishment wasn't lines at all."

"I don't follow."

Snape's hair swayed as he shook his head. "I thought you would, eventually. Draco realised almost at once what was really going on. He didn't like it, but I told him it was none of his concern. But you... you never once questioned the arrangement? At times you aren't very Slytherin at all."

That comment stung. Harry didn't think it was meant to, not particularly, but it did. What was more, it brought up a whole host of resentments that had been festering for far too long. "I'm a Gryffindor, too," he pointed out. "And... but..." Harry swallowed, wondering if this was the right time to broach this particular subject.

"But?" Snape mildly queried.

That certainly sounded like he was willing to listen, at least, which caused a strong sensation to wash over Harry. Acceptance. The dream was just a dream. Everything was going to be all right. "Well... it's just that I think you expect me to be like a Slytherin, sir. And... that's not working for me. Because I'm not as Slytherin as you," he scowled, "or Draco. If you'd explain your plans instead of just plotting circles around me, I'd really appreciate it."

Snape had raised an eyebrow at the phrase plotting circles.

"Like Samhain," Harry sighed, deciding he'd better explain. "I know you think that trust born of struggle is the strongest kind or something --kind of like your learn by experience theory-- but honestly, I'd have realised sooner that Draco was sincere if I'd have known why he abandoned Voldemort's cause. All your plotting did was put me under one hell of a strain for months. Do you even know what it's like to feel like you might get hexed into oblivion any second?"

Snape pulled his chair back out and sat down, his expression intent. "I suppose the Weasleys can wait a few moments," he decided. "As for knowing what it is to live in fear for my life? Yes, I do know what that is like."

"Right, Voldemort. Spying. All right, I'm sure you do. But imagine feeling like that here in your own home, every hour of every day, for weeks, and you can't even leave to get away from it! There were actually times near the start when I thought Draco might poison me. Don't laugh. I'm not joking."

"I see that you're not," the Potions Master murmured.

"And Hagrid, there's another example. You had to deprive me of his company for weeks and weeks, just so that when I might be able to Floo, I'd really want to? But being cut off from all my friends isn't going to make me want my magic back sooner, Professor. It's just going to depress me and make everything a whole lot worse. Because I'm a Gryffindor, too. I need my friends." Harry sucked in a breath. "You treat me like you think I'm a Slytherin--"

"Which you would unequivocally be had you not imposed your foolish whim on the Sorting Hat."

"Would isn't the same as is," Harry pointed out. "I've been raised Gryffindor, so to speak. It's too late now to turn back the clock. It's part of who I am. Besides, do you really think the Hat would have let me veer into another house if I hadn't fit in there as well?"

Snape stared at him for a moment. "No," he finally admitted, his voice quiet. "You are both. I do actually know this."

"But you forget it whenever you have to make a.... er, a parenting decision," Harry claimed. "Or, seems like, anyway."

"So what do you suggest?" Snape inquired, his tones a big haughty.

"Talk to me," Harry simply said. "Look, you said we'd negotiate. That's all I want."

"That was in reference to rules," Snape pointed out. "But... I do see your point."

"Good," Harry approved, thinking that was probably enough of that. For now, at least. He still didn't think that Snape really got it--plotting was just too ingrained in the man--but maybe he'd think twice about using quite so much manipulation. Back to the reason this had all come up. "So... you implied that Ron's lines were another one of these Slytherin plots, I think? They weren't his true punishment? Then what was?"

Snape drained the cold coffee in his cup, grimacing as though he didn't care for the taste, then poured himself some fresh. "I'm not even certain that 'punishment' is an apt term. I merely thought that if your friend was required to spend enough time here, he would eventually come to realise that you were going to be fine."

Harry felt his eyes go wide. "The lines were nothing but a pretext?"

Snape sipped his coffee and nodded. "This adoption has disrupted your relationships with your closest friends. You have repeatedly told me what your friends mean to you. Harry." He waited until the boy looked at him once more. "It was never my intention to deprive you of them."

Talk about plots inside plots... It took Harry a moment to really grasp it, mostly because the scheme was so completely misguided. "So that's why you gave him such a huge number of lines?"

Snape shrugged. "Mr Weasley, however, is proving recalcitrant indeed."

Well, duh, Harry almost said, but he knew that rudeness wasn't going to help his cause. "This is just what I was trying to explain before," he pointed out. "Your plan. It's way too Slytherin. I could have told you it wouldn't work, if you'd just discussed it with me."

A rather derisive look settled on Snape's face. "You, of course, being an expert on teenaged boys."

"I just know Ron. He doesn't do subtle. He's got more of an all-or-nothing sort of personality."

Snape appeared to think that over. "And so? What would you have advised, had I brought the matter up beforehand?"

"Well, that he needed to see a lot of us together. And more than that, he needed to see you being a father. Because... all right, it's like this. Even when you were spending time with me, you were mostly being like a professor, you know."

"You still think of me as primarily your teacher," Snape gleaned, sounding... well, not too pleased by that, actually. That was nice.

"No," Harry insisted. "I don't, but Ron would have thought that. Look..." He tried to think back. "What he mostly saw was you quizzing me. Ron wasn't going to see that and start thinking, there's Harry's father, right?" Harry gulped, and crossed his fingers for luck, juvenile and Mugglish as that was. "I'd just like to know... are you going to let Ron come back next year, Professor?"

Snape's sigh sounded exasperated. "Harry, I thought you understood by now. I've no interest in expelling him."

"So that was just an awful threat to try to make him do another ten thousand lines?" Harry's own sigh was even more exasperated. "There you go again. No offence, but--"

"Why is it," Snape asked sardonically, "that whenever you say no offence, you invariably follow it with something highly offensive?"

"But tricking him into extra lines was a terrible idea," Harry went right on, undeterred. "How's Ron going to calm down enough to stop and think about what he sees here if he's boiling over with rage?"

Snape raised his chin a fraction. "Mr Weasley was in charge of his own punishment. For all I cared, he might have done a mere hundred lines. I planned to release him from detention the moment his behaviour indicated he understood that you were in no danger here."

"But he doesn't think I'm in danger!" Harry exclaimed. "He knows, and he even said, that he doesn't think you were, er... you know... with me."

"I should hope not," Snape retorted, crossing his arms. "He does however think the adoption likely to be to your detriment."

Harry scowled. "And you did a really good job convincing him otherwise, didn't you? He probably thinks you punish me the same way, with months of lines."

Snape shook a rueful head. "In that case, I shall simply have to take your advice and be sure Mr Weasley has more opportunity to see us interact as a family."

"You... then you aren't going to expel him?"

Now it was Snape who was scowling. "Didn't I just say that was never my intention? I have explained the entire situation to the Weasleys, including the matter of the misspelled word, and while they too disapproved of my methods, they did not think it amiss that their son be required to learn that his... hysteria is misplaced."

"When'd you see the Weasleys?" Harry asked, wondering if that was where Snape had been the night before.

"I have not seen them in person, Harry. Order members have a variety of ways to communicate."

Oh yeah, Dumbledore had mentioned that. "All right, but if everything is settled, then why are they coming here for a conference?"

"It yet remains to persuade Mr Weasley to resume doing lines."

Harry thought a moment about that. It was wrong. Horribly wrong, but should he push his luck with Snape? Then again, the stupid dream hadn't been a seer dream; of course it hadn't. Snape wouldn't unadopt him. Some deep part of him knew that the same way he knew his name. It was fixed. Permanent. He had a father, now. And he wanted to be a son, which didn't mean just blindly accepting whatever bizarre Slytherin manipulations Snape could dream up. It meant discussion, give-and-take, negotiation.

"Don't you think the Weasleys were really good about the adoption?" he asked, deciding he'd sort of smooth into his real topic. Snape would probably notice, but then again, he would probably approve. He liked to see Harry manoeuvre; he'd said so. "I mean, they could have come unglued like Ron did; they have sort of looked on me as another child in the family. But they were really, really great. Didn't even resent it."

Snape gave him a longish stare, probably wondering what he was up to. "Arthur and Molly Weasley are rational adults," he finally answered.

"Yeah, but they have feelings, too," Harry pointed out, then went in for the kill. "Don't you think they'd appreciate it if you showed their son a little of the consideration they've already shown yours?"

Snape's nostrils flared. "Oh, very good, Harry. However, it's in Mr Weasley's best interests not to toss away a close friendship. His parents concur. He will have to do his lines. This time I will put forth more effort to see that he comes to terms with me being your father."

Harry bit his lip. "I appreciate that, sir, I really do. But all this manipulation... I don't like it. I really don't. I mean, I got pretty upset when you tricked me into using the Floo, so how can I help you trick Ron like this?"

"The alternative is to let him decide when next he will venture down here."

"No, the alternative is to get him down here in some less cruel way," Harry retorted.

Snape frowned. "That would create the unfortunate impression that a professor, a master of his craft, had not been allowed to enforce his standard of discipline."

"Yeah, I'm real worried about your reputation," Harry sourly put in, then realised that had come out awfully rude. "Sorry. I meant, I think you'll still be able to terrify the pants off--" Shite, that wasn't much better, was it?

Snape, however, cracked a smile. "I really must go speak with the Weasleys, now," he announced. "What do you recommend I tell them?"

Harry did a double-take. "You're asking me? Night before last, I begged you to relent!"

"I admit, at that time I was frankly irritated with your inability to see what I was really doing. But now that you know my plan, if you still think it ill-advised..." The Potions Master lifted his shoulders. "You're my son, not my student, though hopefully soon you will be that as well. Still, here, you will always be my son first, and as we have established, there is a time and place for negotiation. So. What do you wish me to do?"

That put Harry in a bit of a quandary. He didn't have any brilliant ideas for how to solve this mess. He just knew one thing for sure. "Don't make him do any more lines. Or anything else that looks like a punishment," he hastily added, seeing horrid visions of Snape demanding Ron scrub the floor without magic or something. He wouldn't put it past him. "But... well, I do like the idea of him spending time down here. You'll think of something."

"I'll think of something," Snape echoed, shaking his head. "You haven't any more constructive ideas than that?"

Harry looked up, and smiled. "No. I trust you to handle it, now that you know how I feel."

"Now that's manipulative," Snape remarked, sounding more pleased than not. "I really must go now. You will not likely see me again until evening."

"Oh right, the Order meeting," Harry murmured. "Are you still using Sirius' house for that, even after what happened with Lucius Malfoy?"

"We are still using your house, yes," Snape stressed.

Which reminded Harry. "You said you'd see about getting me some legal help to sort that out--"

"Let's discuss that this evening when I return," Snape suggested. "All right?"

"All right," Harry slowly agreed. Things seemed all right now --or at least Snape didn't seem angry any longer-- but Harry was strangely aware that all those things that had been said the night before last were still hovering between them. Get out of my sight. You don't deserve to be my son. And Snape must have meant them, at least somewhat, considering he'd stayed away from Harry the entire day before, even locking him out of the Potions Lab. He couldn't help but feel they'd better talk that out. It didn't feel right to just ignore the horrible fight they'd had. Ignoring things made them worse... like when he'd ignored the whispering in the walls, and students had ended up petrified.

He wasn't going to be as immature as that. Not this time. Even as he decided that, however, a choking feeling swept over him. He didn't want to bring up all the ugliness of their fight, he really didn't. But.... it seemed like he probably should. Otherwise, those awful words would always be lurking around in the back of his mind. "Yeah, all right. We'll discuss it tonight."

Snape moved toward the door, then looked back. He looked as though he might say something more, but after a moment, he swept out into the hallway without a word. A wave of his wand, and the door thudded closed behind him.

Harry took in another deep breath, and told himself acceptance.

He does accept you; it's obvious. He does...

All the same, he couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved by the conversation he still had to have with his father.

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By the time Draco emerged, Harry had recovered his equilibrium and finished his breakfast. The Slytherin boy served himself and cast a warming charm to freshen his food, then looked straight at Harry to suggest, "Let's make sure you finish researching that well-wish, today. How does that sound?"

"Like you've been eavesdropping. You heard Severus ask about it."

Draco didn't deny the allegation. He didn't even look disturbed.

"I don't know that I'll be able to concentrate," Harry murmured, wondering what was going on in Snape's conference with the Weasleys. Maybe he shouldn't have left matters to his father, considering the daft scheme the man had come up with last time. Ten thousand lines....

"You need to do something," Draco insisted. "I'll even help you, all right?"

That certainly startled Harry out of his morose thoughts. "You're offering to help me cheat?"

Draco laughed and leaned back in his chair. "Slytherins always cheat. I thought you knew that." Then he sobered slightly. "But no, I wasn't, actually. I thought I might just nudge you in the right direction. You do want to know what your house wished for you, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "I'll go get that book Ginny gave me."

"No rush, I'm going to enjoy my breakfast first. But as long as you're collecting books, fetch one called Plant to Potion from my trunk. I think it might come in handy."

Looking in Draco's trunk turned out to be a rather enlightening experience. The sheer volume of stuff the boy kept in there! Harry couldn't believe it. The trunk contained wizardspace, obviously, holding vastly more than its physical dimensions would indicate. Might be something to ask for next Christmas, Harry mused. He wondered how expensive a trunk like that would be.

After Harry brought out all his books and notes, spreading them out on the table which Draco had already cleared of breakfast items, the Slytherin boy asked what Harry had discovered so far.

Harry checked a scroll of parchment. "Arabic gum to purify evil; strawberry leaves for love and luck."

"Luck only," Draco corrected. "You only got the smaller leaves, which represent the secondary quality."

Harry thought that little tidbit was quite a nudge, but he wasn't complaining. Draco wasn't done, though.

"I'll give you a hint about what's left," the Slytherin boy offered. "Except for the bluebell, they all mean the same thing. The same wish, over and over. I think your friends were trying to make sure you didn't miss their point."

"Which was...?"

"Unravel the plant meanings and find out," Draco shrugged.

So, Harry did.

It was easier with Draco there to keep him from going up blind alleys in the research. It was also a lot easier with Draco's book, which covered practically everything. Still, it was more than merely looking things up. The book focussed heavily on potion properties, which Harry had to think about a while before he could relate them to more general magical characteristics.

He was nibbling a turkey sandwich as he finished the last item on his list. Setting his quill down with a sigh, all he could say was, "I'm not quite sure what to make of this."

Draco looked up from his own lunch. "So you're done?"

Harry nodded. "The bluebell's a wish for truth. And the almond, iris, sage, and sunflower all represent wisdom."

"Ten points to Slytherin," Draco lightly joked, nodding in approval.

"Half of them will go to Gryffindor," Harry retorted, thinking of how Snape had circumvented the house counters when he'd been mad at Harry. That had been just awful, and not only because Gryffindor had got the short end of the stick.

"Right. So forget that," was Draco's reply. "Well, you know all the wishes now. Any thoughts?"

Harry checked his notes, then murmured, "Hmm. Well, my friends were nice about it, mostly, but they aren't too comfortable with the adoption. They've wished me luck and to be able to purify evil, probably because they think I'll need those to survive being down here in Slytherin." He looked up, but Draco didn't smile. "Then they want me to have the truth... I suppose that means they think I'm fooling myself. But most of all, their wish for me is wisdom. All right, I get it. They think I don't know what I'm doing, so they're wishing I would see reality and know how to deal with it."

"That's about it, yes."

"So why did you say you couldn't wait to see my face when I found out?"

"That they wished wisdom for you no fewer than four bloody times?" Draco scoffed, "It's so transparent. But ironic, too. Because whether they know it or not, Severus is an incredibly wise choice of father. Who but Severus both knows the Dark Lord so very well and is on the side of Light? Who else could teach you whatever dark magic you need to survive the coming battle, yet make sure it doesn't corrupt you? Severus has been there. He's been through Hell and come out on the other side, so he'll know how to keep you from making the same journey."

Harry swallowed. "You've... um, you've given this a good deal of thought."

Draco shrugged. "When he adopted you, it was either that or leave here. And of course I couldn't leave. So yeah, it bothered me, how things worked out, but I got over it."

"I really am sorry I said--"

"You must have an apologizing-thing as well," Draco interrupted. "You already said sorry once today. It's all right, Harry. I was mad at the time but since I've said no end of mean things to you, including some rotten things that very night, I suppose we're even."

I suppose we are even... the phrase reminded him of something Snape had once said. Wanting to get even must be a Slytherin thing. Strange how Snape and Draco liked to deride Gryffindor fairness, when they were so obsessed with getting even....

Thinking of fairness, though, reminded Harry to ask something that had been on his mind a little while. "Do you suppose I have to write a thank-you note for the well-wish, now that I've deciphered it?"

"Considering as they're usually given to newborn infants," Draco laughed, "I don't think so. Say, I know. Sometime when Hermione comes tromping on down, mention that Severus is wisdom personified, and see how she reacts."

"Don't be snide about Hermione," Harry rebuked the other boy. "You know perfectly well that she hasn't gone on about the adoption for weeks, now."

"I know her nose is still sort of raised whenever she's down here, like she suspects a stench or something."

"I'd like to see how haughty you'd look if you had to spend some time in Gryffindor Tower," Harry retorted. "It's your own fault she looks that way. No offence, but you don't exactly inspire confidence, Draco. She is a Muggleborn and you have made it rather clear on several occasions that you think that makes her less than human."

Ignoring that last accusation, Draco rallied, "That's just it, Harry. She doesn't have to spend all that time down here. Three, four afternoons a week? Don't you realise she's checking up on you? She might have finally shut up about you being unhealthily attached to Severus, but she obviously still thinks it's true, or else she wouldn't be hanging about quite so much."

"I happen to like her hanging about," Harry coolly insisted. "I like her, in case you haven't noticed."

"She's a real prat!" Draco erupted. "She's just not being so bloody obvious about it any longer."

"She's a friend," Harry corrected, his irritation with Draco fading as he began to understand. Wisdom, he thought. The Gryffindors might have meant that wrong, but it was a wonderful wish, all the same. "She really cares about what's best for me; we just happen to disagree about what that is. I'm not going to hold that against her."

Draco made a face.

Remembering how little the Slytherin boy understood about true friendship helped, Harry thought, as he went on, "You've been really good the past few times she's come down. I mean, I know her attitude angers you, but I'm glad you don't let on to her at least."

"I suppose it helps that she's behaving herself as well," Draco drawled. "About time she emulated my perfect manners."

"Like eavesdropping, you mean?"

Draco had enough sense to flush a bit at that, but he rallied quickly enough. "Just make sure you tell the Gryffindors that their wish has come true because, after all, Severus really is a wise choice of father."

Harry didn't doubt that, but as much as he respected Snape, he knew the man was far from perfect. His ten-thousand-line-plan, for example. Sheer idiocy from start to finish.

But wisdom, Harry sensed, would be to avoid another argument with Draco, who had admired Snape for so long that he simply couldn't see the man's flaws.

Harry could see them. But he could see past them, too. Snape wasn't perfect, but then again, neither was Harry. Then again... he hadn't said that Snape didn't deserve to be his father, had he?

It was no wonder the comment had given him that awful nightmare. Harry wasn't going to dream again of being unadopted, though; he was going to work things out with Snape. Things that morning had been mostly amicable, but Harry counted that for what it was worth. They both wanted to get past the fight, that was all. It didn't mean they'd dealt with it like they should have.

But they were going to. Harry was determined on that much.

And maybe that, too, was simply wisdom.

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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:

Chapter Fifty-Six: Time for Cocoa

~

Comments very welcome,

Aspen in the Sunlight