A Cord of Three Strands

A Cord of Three Strands

By Cindale

Chapter 14

"Anger and Distraction"

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"If I could change, I would

Take back the pain, I would

Retrace every wrong move that I made, I would

If I could stand up and take the blame, I would

If I could take all the shame to the grave, I would"

Linkin Park, "Easier To Run"

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As second term began, it seemed as if Hogwarts was covered with a dark shroud of mourning. Almost every student had a relative or friend who had been killed or seriously wounded in the attack on the floo system. Miraculously, only one student was dead, a fourth year Hufflepuff. Harry hadn't known her, but he still added her name to the growing list of those who wouldn't have died if he had already fulfilled his destiny.

The list of those presumed dead was growing longer every day, though more slowly than in the first days following the attack. Just that morning they had heard about Oliver Wood. His parents had waited almost two weeks before adding his name to the list, hoping he had stopped off someplace without telling them. But when he didn't show up for practice with Puddlemere United, they were forced to acknowledge that he probably hadn't survived.

Harry knew that he should feel grateful that all those he loved had been safe in the castle during the attack, but how long would they remain safe? How long before it was Remus, Ron, Hermione, or another Weasley?

He had tried taking out his frustrations during his training session with Professor Shacklebolt, but the strong emotions had made him clumsy. Shacklebolt had recognized his mood and tried to calm him, telling him that anger would only make it easier for his opponent to win, but Harry had still ended up hitting the floor painfully more times than he could count. Oddly, this had made him feel a little better, as if he was getting a small amount of the punishment he deserved.

As he walked back to Gryffindor Tower, the faces floated through his mind. Sirius. Percy. Cho. Cedric. Michael. Oliver. Colin. Then the names of those he hadn't known rolled through his thoughts, shining like blood red ink engraved on stark white parchment. He stopped walking and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to clear his mind. He could feel the anger buzzing through his veins and churning in his stomach, forcing to him to remember. The anger was slowly becoming his life-force, the only thing that mattered to him.

He sighed, and when he opened his eyes, was surprised to see a real, very alive, face in front of him. "Are you okay, Harry?" asked Luna.

Harry stared at Luna for a moment and was suddenly taken back to the night of the Christmas Celebration, a time before the anger had started to overwhelm him. As he took a step toward Luna, his mind was entirely focused on how nice it would be to have a pleasant emotion again.

She seemed a little surprised when he kissed her, but didn't resist at all, so he did it again. It was working. A little voice in his head that said the reprieve wouldn't last, that it was only temporary, but he ignored it and let himself drown in the sensations of the kiss.

When he finally pulled back, she gave him a knowing look and said, "The vulmaks are affecting you too, I see."

The pleasantness that had replaced the anger in his veins bubbled up in his throat and came out as a laugh, surprising him. "Hi," he said stupidly, realizing he hadn't spoken to her since term had begun. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

"Yes," she said with a genuine smile. "It would have been better if I had gotten what I wanted, but Dad said there just aren't any eggs this time of year."

Harry decided it was probably wise not to ask what she meant by that and kissed her again instead. She responded by deepening the kiss, making him want more, but also causing an alarm to go off in his brain. They were in the middle of the hallway, where anyone could see them, and Harry didn't fancy the thought of having points taken from Gryffindor for snogging, or even worse, his classmates teasing him. He pulled back and nervously ran his fingers through his hair.

"Luna?" She simply looked at him expectantly, so he took a deep breath and continued. "W-would y-you like to ... go for a walk ... tomorrow night after DA?"

"A walk?" she said, looking a little disappointed. "No, not really. It's too ... wait," she said just as the pleasant feelings started to drain from him, "did you mean you want to find someplace private to snog?"

Harry felt his cheeks grow hot, but he realized he was going to have to get used to her saying exactly what she was thinking. "Yes," he croaked.

"Well, I would like to do that," she said matter-of-factly. "I need to study right now, but tomorrow should fit into my schedule." She leaned forward, gave Harry a chaste peck on the lips, and walked away, heading toward Ravenclaw Tower. As Harry watched her go, a silly grin spread across his face that lasted all the way to his own common room.

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Harry's emotions were rather like a Muggle yo-yo during the following days. It was difficult to keep his mind from wandering to topics which made his blood boil with anger. It seemed as though everyone who had lost a family member was giving him accusing glares, though in his more rational moments he told himself it was only paranoia.

He tried to keep his mind occupied with other things, but it seemed everything reminded him of the war. He was training in Occlumency and defence so he could defeat Voldemort. The purpose of the Defence Association was to train the other students to protect themselves from attack. When he looked around in his classes, he saw Parvati and Padma, who had lost an aunt in the floo attack, or Zacharias Smith, who had lost a brother. There was no escaping the reminders. The only things that served to sufficiently distract him were his Firebolt and Luna; therefore, he spent as much time as possible with both.

On one Monday evening, Harry found himself angry and frustrated for an entirely different reason. An impossible Potions essay was due right after breakfast the next day and Hermione was in the weekly prefect meeting. A small part of his mind whispered he should be grateful that the composition had so successfully distracted him from brooding over the war, but it was very little comfort. He finally gave up his feeble attempts at the homework and headed to the library in hopes that he could find one of the Ravenclaws in his class to help him.

He scanned the tables as he entered the library, and his eyes fell on Malfoy, sitting alone near the back. It hadn't occurred to him to ask the Slytherin, but he knew Malfoy did well in Potions, so he braced himself and walked over to the table.

"Can you help me, Malfoy?" he asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

The Slytherin regarded him with an unreadable expression for a moment before speaking in a voice only Harry could hear. "It appears I have little choice. I owe you."

"No, you don't," said Harry, rolling his eyes and sitting across from Malfoy. "It's just that you seem to do okay in Potions, and I'm having trouble with this essay."

"Doesn't the Mu- Granger usually help you?"

"Yes," Harry answered, torn between being annoyed that Malfoy had started to insult his friend and pleased that he had corrected himself. "But she's in a prefect meeting."

"They only last an hour," Malfoy said.

"Yeah," said Harry, unable to contain the smirk that curled his mouth, "but the Gryffindor sixth year prefects usually meet privately afterwards."

Malfoy's nose immediately wrinkled in disgust. "That's a mental image I could have done without, Potter."

"It's only fair," Harry said, a small laugh escaping him. "I shouldn't have to suffer with it alone."

Malfoy stared at him in obvious surprise for a moment and then gave a little chuckle. "All right," he said, still smiling. "Let me see what you've got so far. But I'm not writing it for you."

"I don't expect you to," said Harry, pulling the essay out of his bag. "Just point me in the right direction."

The Slytherin read the parchment slowly, muttering about Harry's poor handwriting the entire time. "How did you manage an "E" on the O.W.L.s?" he finally asked, looking at Harry in wonder. Harry fought the urge to get angry; he was beginning to realize that insults were just Malfoy's natural way of dealing with people.

"I think it was luck," Harry said, deciding there was no reason not to be honest. "There were a lot of questions on the written exam that I happened to remember," he smiled a little, remembering the question about the effects of Polyjuice Potion, "and I did much better on the practical exam without Snape breathing down my neck."

Malfoy gazed at him with a puzzled expression for a moment and then gave a short laugh. "You had me going there for a moment. But I wish you'd tell me the truth - it could come in handy when we take our N.E.W.T.s next year."

"I am telling the truth, you pillock," Harry said, no longer able to control his anger. He grabbed the essay out of Malfoy's hands and stood to leave, but the Slytherin's voice stopped him.

"It won't matter what you made on your O.W.L.s if you fail this term, Potter. Sit down." Harry struggled silently for a moment, and then sank back into the chair as he realized a decent mark in Potions was worth a few insults from Malfoy. The Slytherin snatched the essay and appeared to be reading it again as he said, "Potions is all about finding the balance between precision and subtlety - and you don't have either. Actually, I'm amazed that any Gryffindor can make it in Potions."

Harry forced himself to relax, ignoring the insults while trying to understand what Malfoy was telling him. He would never admit it aloud, but he knew precision and subtlety were not exactly his strong points. He struggled to wrap his mind around the concepts as Malfoy described the theory behind the potion to him, hoping for a sudden comprehension that never came. Nonetheless, the Slytherin proved to be a surprisingly good tutor, if not a patient one, and in the end Harry's essay exceeded the required length by one inch.

"Thank you," he said sincerely as he stuffed the parchment in his bag.

"I hope you appreciate it," Malfoy answered with a frown. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm behind in my own revising."

Harry took that as a dismissal and murmured, "See you around," awkwardly as he stood to leave. He felt emotionally drained from the stress of suppressing his annoyance, but somewhat lighter as if a burden had been removed.

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The next morning, Harry ran breathlessly into Potions with only a minute to spare. Meeting Luna to snog before morning classes had been fun, but probably not the best idea, since it had been difficult to leave her. He hurried toward the table he shared with Seamus, but stopped short when he realized his usual seat was occupied by Lisa Turpin, whom Seamus had been seeing since the Christmas Celebration. Seamus gave him an apologetic look and inclined his head toward a nearby table where Su Li, Lisa's former Potions partner, was sitting alone. Harry ignored his suggestion, however, took a deep breath, and walked straight to the table in the back where Malfoy sat.

The Slytherin's eyes widened in surprise as Harry sat next to him and unpacked his cauldron. Harry almost thought that Malfoy seemed pleased for a moment, but then decided he was wrong as Malfoy's familiar cold expression fell back across his features. The Slytherin opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, Snape swept into the room and began lecturing.

After several minutes had passed, Malfoy tilted his parchment so that Harry could read it. He had assumed the Slytherin had been taking notes, but instead he had written, "If you cause my marks to go down, I'll make sure you're not able to play Quidditch for a LONG time." Underneath the words was a small doodle of Harry in intense pain. The drawing was quite amusing, and Harry couldn't help but smile. Malfoy scowled at him, jerked the parchment back, and refused to acknowledge his presence for the remainder of the lecture.

Snape finally finished giving instructions and commanded them to begin the potion. Malfoy actually proved to be complementary partner for Harry. He took control of the assignment, ordering Harry to complete the easier and more menial steps, which, Harry had to admit, was the most efficient way for them to work together since Malfoy was much more skilled at potion making.

Malfoy looked at their creation with unmistakable pleasure as he corked the flask at the end of the double period. "Take this to Snape while I clean up," he directed, handing the flask to Harry. They had been the first pair to finish, so there was no one else at Snape's desk when Harry delivered the flask.

"Do not expect me to mark you higher just because you're partnering with a Slytherin," Snape said with a sneer. Harry struggled not to roll his eyes as he turned to go back to his table, but stopped as Snape said his name so quietly he almost didn't hear him. He turned back and looked into the Potions Master's unreadable black eyes. "Remember what his family is," Snape whispered without moving his lips. "Don't trust him."

"I don't," Harry whispered before heading back to his table. He passed Ron and Hermione on the way, and his heart sank at the expression of anger and disgust in Ron's eyes. Hermione didn't look angry, but rather like she pitied him.

The work area was spotless when Harry returned. Malfoy gave Harry a perfunctory nod and stalked out of the classroom. Harry lingered uncomfortably at the table, pretending to read his text, until Ron and Hermione finished their potion.

"I can't believe you partnered with Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed as they left the classroom together.

"Why didn't you sit with Su Li?" Hermione asked with the exasperated air of a mother chastising a child.

"I don't really know her," Harry said, feeling somehow that it wouldn't suffice as a reason.

"Anyone would be better ..." Ron began.

"Look," Harry interrupted, "he helped me with my essay last night. He's really good in potions. I thought partnering him might help me get my marks up."

"But he'll do anything to make sure your marks go down," Ron protested.

"Nah," Harry argued, "he won't do anything that would hurt himself."

Ron started to speak again, but Hermione glared at him and spoke before he could. "What was he like today?" she asked in a curious tone.

"He treated me like a house-elf, but it's probably worth it to finally get a good mark. I think our potion turned out exactly right." Hermione turned her glare on him at the casual mention of house-elves, but let the comment go.

Ron still looked angry as they sat down to eat lunch, but Hermione seemed satisfied with his explanation and started talking about their Herbology assignment. Harry caught Ron's eye and gave him what he hoped was a penitent look. Ron's expression softened somewhat, much to Harry's relief.

Harry dropped his fork with a clang when a hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him around. "Is it true, Harry?" asked Ginny. "Did you partner Malfoy in Potions?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "but how did you ..."

"It's the main topic of conversation over at the Hufflepuff table. I was over there talking to Matthew when I heard."

Ginny's hand lingered on his shoulder, causing an odd tingling sensation, but he shrugged it off with a sigh. "What are they saying about me this time?" he asked in a resigned tone, remembering the Hufflepuffs speculating about him being the Heir of Slytherin in his second year.

"Some think you're trying to win Malfoy over to our side, and others think he's teaching you to be a Death Eater." Harry heard Ron give a snort and looked around. Although Ginny was speaking quietly, they had attracted the attention of several at the Gryffindor table, all of whom looked as if they were desperate to hear Harry's explanation. Harry must have looked annoyed, because Ginny held up her hands and said, "I didn't say I believed it - I just thought you should know what was being said, Harry."

Harry forced his face into an apologetic expression; he didn't want Ginny to think he was angry with her. "It's nothing like that," he explained. "I just wanted some help in Potions. He's actually not so bad - he's willing to help me."

"But why?" Ginny asked, giving him a searching look. "After all this time, why would he help you?"

Harry suddenly felt a mad desire to tell Ginny the whole truth, but he tried to swallow it and settled on a partial truth. "I think he feels indebted to me because I accepted him into the DA. He hates to feel indebted to anyone, especially me."

"Maybe ..." Ginny said with a shrug; Harry could tell she was unsure, but wanted to trust his judgement. "I'll just tell the Hufflepuffs he hasn't turned you into a Death Eater yet, okay?"

"Thanks, Ginny," said Harry, giving her a sarcastic smile. He stared after her as she walked back to the Hufflepuff table and placed her hand on Matthew's shoulder. Harry's shoulder tingled as he watched, as if it remembered how her hand had felt. After a moment, he tore his eyes away and saw that Ron was watching him with an odd expression. "What?" he demanded. Ron just shrugged and dug enthusiastically into his mashed potatoes. Harry sighed, picked up his fork, and pretended to eat.

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"You are progressing," Snape said with a sneer, and Harry realized that was probably the closest thing to praise he would ever hear from the Potions Master. "It is time to increase the challenge. Legilimens!" Harry emptied his mind and relaxed, letting Snape see nothing, and feeling confident in his ability to resist him.

"You know, your father was over-confident, too," said a sly voice inside his head, confusing him slightly. "He strutted around this school, huge head barely balancing on his shoulders, hexing anyone who got in his way." A vision of his father mussing his hair sprang to his mind and his breathing became heavy as he tried to force it away. The voice relentlessly continued, telling him how despicable James Potter had been in school, and the rage that still flared so easily boiled in his stomach and forced itself up into his chest.

"STOP IT!" Harry shouted. His wand had somehow made its way into his hand and he brandished it violently at the Potions Master. "Stop insulting my father! I know the truth! You were jealous of him! You ..."

"Twenty points from Gryffindor!" Snape said in an oily voice, watching Harry intently. Harry took a deep breath and swallowed his next words, pushing the anger down and forcing himself to calm.

"How am I supposed to concentrate on resisting you when you're insulting my father?" Harry asked, trying to sound respectful but unable to keep all of the anger out of his tone.

Snape's expression turned nasty. "Do you expect the Dark Lord to just sit idly by and sip tea while he's trying to invade your mind? You can resist my invasion in a controlled situation, but you must learn to simultaneously resist distraction. Legilimens!" The assault began again without warning, and Harry found himself fighting anger as well as the attempted foray into his mind.

After an hour, the Potions Master finally released Harry and the Gryffindor headed straight out of the castle, not bothering with pretending to come down from his common room. He breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Am I glad to see you!" he said as he wrapped his arms around Luna.

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Harry slipped into the dormitory stealthily, but Ron was still awake. "Who is it, mate?" he asked as Harry tried to sneak past his bed.

"What are you talking about?" Harry whispered. He ran his fingers nervously through his hair and sat on the edge of Ron's bed.

"The girl you've been meeting. It's Luna, isn't it? That's why you haven't told me."

Harry sighed. He should have known Ron would figure it out; after five years of friendship, there was little he could hide from him. "Sorry, mate, but you weren't exactly enthusiastic about me going to the Christmas thing with her."

"It seems to agree with you," Ron said, examining his face closely. "You seem ... less angry or something ... more relaxed."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "I think I am. When I'm with her, I forget everything except her - does that make sense? And sometimes it seems to help some of my frustration."

Ron suddenly looked a little alarmed, as if an unpleasant thought had occurred to him. "Are you ... y-you're not ... you're not shagging her, are you?"

"No," Harry said, fighting the blush that threatened. "I've thought about it, but ... no. I'm - I'm not ready for that. And," he paused, not knowing how to put what he was feeling into words, "I don't think I want it to be her. I-I mean, I l-like her ... a lot ... but not that much ... I guess ... I don't know ..." He shrugged and looked at his friend, hoping he understood what he meant.

"You're not in love with her," Ron said simply.

"I guess not. How would I know?"

Ron looked past Harry and his eyes glazed over in a dreamy expression. "You just know."