A Cord of Three Strands

A Cord of Three Strands

By Cindale

Chapter 17

"Meet the Press"

"Though one may be overpowered,

Two can defend themselves.

A cord of three strands is not quickly broken."

Ecclesiastes 4:12

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Harry paced the floor of Remus's sitting room as he ranted about Snape's insults. His anger caused the teacup he had been using to shatter, spilling its contents all over the table, but he barely noticed as he continued to yell. Remus casually waved his wand and repaired the damage without appearing to shift his attention from Harry.

It had been difficult for Harry to tell Remus about the verbal abuse; despite his training and six years of experience with the Potions Master, the insults still hurt. Even though he knew it was ridiculous, part of him was ashamed of the words, as if they were actually true and repeating them would cause Remus to feel disgust for him. He knew this feeling probably stemmed from his childhood with the Dursleys when he had been convinced he was a freak and didn't deserve love. Even though his rational mind knew this wasn't true, it was deeply ingrained. Harry sometimes wondered if he would be afraid of not being loved the rest of his life.

Remus was a great listener; he didn't try to calm Harry with platitudes, and he didn't tell him to harden himself against the abuse, reminding him that this training was necessary to the war. Instead, he just sat back and let Harry pour out his anger without interruption.

Just as Harry was starting to calm down, they were both startled by the appearance of Dumbledore's head in the stone fireplace.

"Can I help you, Headmaster?" Remus asked courteously, apparently recovering quickly from his surprise.

"Ah, I see Harry is there," Dumbledore said in a mild tone, but Harry could have sworn he heard a note of relief. He took a step toward the fireplace, his curiosity overcoming his annoyance at being interrupted. "Harry," the headmaster continued, "I wonder if you would mind staying in Remus's rooms for the night." He said this in a quiet but firm voice that made it clear there was no other option. "I will see to it that your Head of House and friends do not worry about you."

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

"You will find out very soon," said Dumbledore. "Goodnight."

"Wait!" Harry called as the head disappeared. The anger that had burned against Snape only moments before flared again in full force. He turned to Remus and said, "I thought you people were going to tell me things."

"I don't think it was you, Harry," Remus said in a testy voice. "I don't think he wanted to say anything through the Floo Network."

"Oh - right," Harry said, avoiding his guardian's eyes as his anger quickly faded into annoyance.

"Would you like some hot chocolate before bed?" Remus asked.

Harry shrugged and flopped into a chair. He knew Remus was trying to lighten his mood, but he wasn't really ready to stop feeling angry. As Remus poured the steaming liquid into two mugs, he asked Harry about Quidditch, and Harry soon found himself relaxing and sipping from his mug without even realizing it.

They slowly drank their chocolate, talking only of trivial things such as Quidditch and schoolwork. Harry was amazed at how calm he felt, as if the warm liquid was dousing the flames of anger that had burned in his chest earlier. He remembered that chocolate was a remedy for exposure to dark creatures such as dementors, and wondered if the negative emotions that dementors drew to the surface were really so closely related to anger as to require the same cure.

When their cups had been filled and emptied twice, Remus suggested they call it a night, insisting that Harry sleep in the bed. Remus said he didn't mind a kip on the sofa, but Harry suspected that his guardian actually wanted to sleep closer to the exit as a way of standing guard. Harry appreciated the fatherly protectiveness, but it also slightly annoyed him to be treated like a child.

The next morning Remus invited Harry to share his breakfast. Along with enough eggs, toast, and tea for at least four men, the house-elves brought the Saturday edition of the Daily Prophet. The headline proclaimed that five Death Eaters had been captured the night before.

Harry punched the air with exuberance as he read the article. "It's about time," he said. "Why haven't we been arresting Death Eaters all along? We know who a lot of them are."

"The Ministry can't just go around arresting people - they have to catch them in the act," Remus said.

"Why?" Harry asked between mouthfuls of toast.

"Imagine an Auror arrests Thurston Nott," Remus said, adopting what Harry thought of as his "teacher" voice. "We know he's a Death Eater, and we suspect that he was involved in booby trapping the Floo Network in December. A parade of 'model citizens' would come forward to testify to his character and give him an alibi, even if we had an eye witness. The Wizengamot would likely have enough reasonable doubt to keep him out of Azkaban."

"But it's no secret he's a Death Eater! He was there when Voldemort was resurrected - I heard him say his name! Why would there even be a trial?"[PC1]

Remus suddenly seemed to be fascinated with his teacup, his fingers fiddling with the handle, and when he spoke again, his voice was bitter. "Remember what happened to Sirius? He didn't get a trial. A lot of people didn't back then. The laws have evolved a bit since then to prevent something like that from happening again."

"But we know Nott is guilty," Harry protested.

"Everyone knew Sirius was guilty, too," Remus swallowed, "even me." He took a deep breath and looked into Harry's eyes. "I know it's hard to understand, but there's a delicate balance between protecting the public and individual freedoms. I have a hard time understanding it, too. But as someone whose freedom has been violated only because of something I can't help, I can understand the Ministry's caution."

Harry nodded, conceding the point, but still feeling frustrated. After a moment, another thought occurred to him. "Wait - you said we had to catch them in the act. What were they doing last night?"

"The Prophet doesn't say," Remus said, scanning the article with his eyes. "I'm surprised they were able to keep it out of the paper. It must have been something that would cause wide-spread terror if it got out to the public."

Harry's stomach clenched in anger as he wondered what could be worse than the attack on the Floo Network. "Why can't we attack them - the Death Eaters? Isn't this a war?"

"Where would we attack?" Remus asked with a shrug. "You heard Snape in the Order meeting - he doesn't even know where Voldemort's headquarters are."

"What's Snape doing, anyway? Why haven't we been able to catch more Death Eaters in the act?"

"We have to be very careful how we use Snape's information. We can't risk exposing him. I suspect Snape told Dumbledore about the raid last night and Dumbledore decided that, in this case, the risk to innocent people outweighed the risk of losing our only spy. But if we were to prevent every planned Death Eater attack that Snape knew about, he would fall under suspicion, and he's our only source of inside information about Voldemort."

Harry thought about that. Even though it was frustrating, he realized it was more important to the war effort as a whole to protect Snape as much as they could.

"Sweet Merlin!" Remus said, interrupting Harry's musings. "Look at this." He folded the paper so that the second page was on the outside and handed it to Harry, who read:

"BOY-WHO-LIVES LOSES UNCLE"

By Phyllis Walker, Daily Prophet staff reporter

Harry Potter, the boy whose life has taken one tragic turn after another, now has another reason to mourn. His uncle, Vernon Dursley of Little Whinging, was tragically killed last week. Dursley, a Muggle, is survived by his wife, Potter's mother's Muggle sister, the former Petunia Evans. He is also survived by one son who has shown no signs of magic.

The Dursleys raised Mr. Potter from the time he was a year old, when "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" tragically deprived him of his parents. Petunia Dursley and her son are now Mr. Potter's only living relatives.

Dursley was killed by a gun, a Muggle contraption that explodes and sends a projectile into the body of the victim. His wallet and money (called quid) were missing which led Muggle authorities to believe he was a victim of robbery.

The Prophet tried to contact Mr. Potter for an interview, but Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, declined on his behalf, saying, "The boy has suffered yet another loss, please allow him a chance to mourn in peace."

Harry had to smile at that last sentence. Dumbledore knew he wasn't mourning at all, but Harry had to appreciate the gesture; he would have had trouble acting sad and pretending to remember his uncle fondly with a reporter asking him questions. He looked up at Remus, who was quirking an eyebrow inquisitively, but Harry just shrugged and said, "I knew it would eventually be in the paper. I'm just glad it wasn't on the front page."

Harry took his leave of Remus quickly after breakfast, impatient to discuss the Death Eater arrests with his friends. As he was ascending the stairs to the seventh floor he realized he had no idea what excuse Professor Dumbledore had given the other Gryffindors for his absence the night before. He had a brief moment of panic as he opened the portrait hole, but he should have known there was no reason to worry with Hermione's quick thinking. She spoke loudly as soon as he entered the crowded common room, eyes narrowed as though with concern. "Harry, are you feeling better? Professor McGonagall told us you stayed in the hospital wing with a stomach ache last night."

"Yeah," Harry said, catching on immediately. "Still a little queasy, but I should be fine by lunchtime."

He flopped next to Ron on the sofa, who immediately leaned over and whispered, "Where were you really last night?"

"You didn't believe McGonagall's story?" Harry said, eyes widening in mock innocence.

"Spill it, Harry," Hermione murmured, leaning over Ron to address him.

Harry quietly told them everything that had happened after Occlumency the night before.

"What were the Death Eaters doing when they were arrested?" Hermione asked when he was finished.

"I don't know," Harry answered. "Remus didn't know anything, either, but he speculated that it must have been pretty bad for it to be kept out of the newspaper." Hermione's eyes widened with fear, but Ron's narrowed.

"I don't get it," Ron said, "why did you have to stay with Remus last night?"

"I don't know," Harry said again with a shrug. "Maybe Dumbledore was afraid I would run off and try to help if I found out what was going on. Maybe it was close to Hogwarts, and he was afraid one of them might be able to get in."

"That's silly," said Hermione with disdain. "Hogwarts is virtually impregnable. You're perfectly safe here. He must have been afraid you'd leave."

Hermione's words caused Harry to remember the Order meeting he had attended in December. The wards around Hogwarts were weakening; Dumbledore had said they were tied to his health, which was slowly declining. He silently debated whether to tell this to his best friends, but decided against it. Ron and Hermione didn't need to worry about safety on top of everything else.

Harry shrugged again and forced a smile. "But isn't it great that the Ministry finally caught some Death Eaters?" he said to change the subject.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, breaking into his own smile. "I hope it was Bellatrix Lestrange."

They spent the next half hour speculating about the identity of the Death Eaters and what they had been doing when they were caught. It was almost fun to pretend they were talking about something far removed from Hogwarts life, something that could never touch them personally.

Over the next few days, most of the gossip and speculation around the school was focused on the Death Eater arrests, but a number of students expressed condolences to Harry about his uncle and a few even embraced him with sympathetic expressions. Thanks to several long talks with Remus, Harry was able to hide his true feelings and accept the gestures with an appearance of sadness and gratefulness. His guardian accepted his emotions without judgement or criticism, and he found that if he could express his anger in a controlled situation it was less likely to explode unexpectedly.

The day after the article appeared, Ginny cornered Harry in the common room and enveloped him in a hug. He thrilled to the feeling of her body pressed against his, but after a moment he realized he was clinging to her and escaped quickly. If he hadn't been in such a hurry to get away he would have wondered about the frustration in her expression.

********************************************

One day in March, Harry was walking alone to the library during a free period when he found himself ushering an insistent beetle into an unused classroom, feeling a sense of déjà vu as he did so. "You know," he said as he closed the door, "since the Ministry doesn't know you're an Animagus, if I stepped on you I couldn't be convicted of murder."

"The body reverts to its natural form at the point of death," Rita Skeeter said with a pout, having changed back into a human.

"So you'd stay a bug," Harry observed conversationally.

"Very funny," said Rita in a wounded tone. "How's this for funny? 'Boy-Who-Lives befriends son of Death Eater'." She punctuated the last phrase with gestures as if throwing the words in the air.

Harry stared at her for a moment in shock while her expression became very smug. He had assumed the reporter wanted information about his uncle; it hadn't occurred to Harry that she might want to print something about his ... lack of animosity with Draco Malfoy. He supposed he should have known that the school gossip would eventually reach the ears of the adults. Harry couldn't deny that he had developed a relationship of sorts with the Slytherin; they continued to partner in Potions and practiced Quidditch together twice a week. The gossip, however, focused on their loyalties; some believed that Harry was trying to convince Malfoy to support him against Voldemort, while others believed that Malfoy was teaching Harry to be a Death Eater. In reality nothing of the sort was going on; they never talked about the war at all. Harry had been both amused and annoyed by the childish rumours, but the prospect of speculation in the newspaper wasn't funny at all.

The anger he had successfully suppressed over the past few weeks bubbled to the surface again and Harry cursed in a manner that would have impressed the Weasley twins. "You print that and I'll tell the world you're really a bug," he growled at Rita.

"It's going to be printed whether I do it or not," Rita told him, not bothering to hide her triumphant smirk. "I convinced the editor to hold the story because I knew I could get an exclusive interview with you. Wouldn't you rather the real story be told?"

She knew he'd agree to an interview? Of course she did; she knew he'd have no choice but to try to regain some control over the situation. He took several deep breaths as he forcefully reigned in his anger and tried to think rationally. If Rita knew that he and Malfoy had put aside their hostility, it was certain that other people outside the school had heard, including Death Eaters. If he agreed to the interview, he might be able to finally put to rest the gossip about their relationship. But if he didn't ... it was annoying to have the students at Hogwarts speculating about them, but it could prove deadly to have the entire wizarding world under the impression they were best mates.

"Okay," he finally said, looking Rita squarely in the eye. "But I have conditions, and if they're not met, I'll tell your secret right before I 'accidentally' squash you."

************************************************

Harry and Malfoy were already seated when Rita Skeeter walked into the unused classroom. She was alone, which Harry had insisted upon. The reporter nodded at Harry and Malfoy, and then stared with surprise at the third person in the room.

"Remus Lupin," said Harry's guardian with a big smile, extending his hand toward Rita.

"Y-you ... y-you're ... y-y-you're a ..." Rita stammered, ignoring the outstretched hand. Harry and Remus had assumed Rita would remember the name from the rumours that had surrounded Remus's resignation from Hogwarts three years earlier, and apparently they were correct.

Remus's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I am Harry's guardian." Harry had to suppress a laugh at Rita's horrified expression.

The reporter continued to stammer as Remus cast a silencing charm on the room, a recording spell on a small box, and a third charm that would allow Dumbledore, who was sitting in the next room, to hear everything. Then Remus sat in the empty seat between Harry and Malfoy and looked expectantly at Rita.

"How can you be his guardian?" Rita finally managed as she slowly sank into a chair across from the three men. "A werewolf can only be the legal guardian of his or her natural child. And even then..."

"Really?" Remus said, and Harry suppressed a smile at his feigned innocence. "The transfer after Sirius Black's death went without a hitch."

"Someone must have failed to cross-check the records," Rita mused.

"Possibly," Remus said with a twinkle in his eye, and Harry had to bite his lip.

"B-but - but Harry, what if he bites you?" She whispered this to Harry behind her hand as if hiding the question from Remus.

"He hasn't yet," Harry proclaimed, struggling to set his face into an impassive expression. That earned a sidelong glare from his guardian, so he added, "I've never been in any danger from him at all."

"Maybe you haven't felt you were in danger, Harry," Rita said, apparently having recovered enough to slide back into her silky reporter's tone, "but honestly - living with a werewolf?"

"I don't live with him," Harry said with a shrug and a roll of his eyes. "I live at Hogwarts."

"But won't you live with him during the summer now that your uncle is dead?" Rita persisted, leaning forward slightly. "Aren't you afraid you'll be left all alone with no one to care for you? Or worse - that you'll be killed or cursed with his ... condition?"

Harry saw Remus stiffen out of the corner of his eye, and his amusement faded. He opened his mouth, but Remus spoke first. "Harry has many adults who care deeply for him. Thanks to recent advances in the Wolfsbane Potion, I am only unavailable to him one night out of the month. Harry will always have the care he needs."

"But what if you escape and bite him?"

"I am very well secured. He is in no danger."

"But wh-"

"Look," Harry interrupted, growing annoyed, "I've never been afraid of Remus, and I never will be." That wasn't precisely true; he had been very afraid when he watched Remus turn into a werewolf during his third year, but he met Rita's eye with an expression that dared her to contradict him. "He turns into an animal one night a month. So what? You're a bug more often than that."

"I am a beetle," said the reporter, drawing herself up in an obvious attempt to appear dignified. "And there's certainly a difference between an insect and a ravenous beast."

"I don't know," drawled Malfoy. Rita started, apparently having forgotten the Slytherin was in the room. "I've seen some mosquitoes that I would put in that category."

"What do you think about this, Mr. Malfoy?" Rita spat. Harry suspected she was trying to regain control of the situation in the best way she knew how. "Doesn't it scare you to be sitting next to a werewolf?"

"Why would it?" Malfoy said with a shrug. "He can only change during the Full Moon. You, on the other hand, could change any minute and give me a painful sting."

"How dare you imply that I'm more da-" Rita snarled, but Malfoy cut her off.

"Look, I'm beginning to feel a little neglected here. I thought this interview was supposed to be about me."

"Y-yes ... well ..." She shuffled her parchment, avoiding the eyes of all three men. Finally, she sucked in a deep breath and said, "Mr. Malfoy, your father is a Death Eater, is he not?"

"I will not answer questions about my father." Harry realized he hadn't seen that angry fire in the Slytherin's eyes in a long while, and he was glad it wasn't directed at him.

"Sorry," Rita said with a sickly sweet smile. "Mr. Malfoy, are you a Death Eater?"

"I am not."

"Are you supporting 'You-Know-Who' or Dumbledore?"

"You don't have to answer that," Harry said before Malfoy could answer. The Slytherin leaned forward to glare at Harry around Remus.

"Shut up, Potter." He sighed and looked Rita in the eye. "I've decided it's in my best interests to avoid all discussions of politics at this time in my life. Including with Potter. We never discuss my political views, or his, for that matter, and that's the way we're going to keep it."

"But don't friends discuss, even debate things like that?" Rita asked without missing a beat.

"We are not friends," Draco said in a firm tone, enunciating every word as if he wanted to be sure there was no misunderstanding. "We have a mutually beneficial arrangement. I help him with Potions, he's teaching me the Patronus charm, we fly together to improve our Seeker skills. It's a business arrangement - nothing more." Harry had to suppress a grin when he realized that Malfoy had left out the part about Harry's presence helping him get the attention of certain girls.

"A business arrangement," Rita repeated in a tone that was clearly sceptical, raising her eyebrows. "You expect me to believe that two teenage boys have a business arrangement?"

"What - did you expect me to say I'm madly in love with him? I don't even like him. I tolerate him because it's in my best interests," said Malfoy with a shrug, his face a mask of indifference.

"Ta, Malfoy," Harry said in a sarcastic tone.

"Don't mention it."

"Harry," Rita said, switching focus seamlessly, "aren't you afraid that someday it will be in Draco's best interests to turn you over to 'You-Know-Who'?"

Harry glanced at Malfoy, noting his face had not moved at all, but anger was burning in his eyes again. He looked into Rita's eyes and said, "You know, that's the thing I don't understand. Everyone assumes Voldemort wants to kill me." He ignored Rita's expression of alarm at his mention of the name and continued. "It's stupid. I'm just a sixteen-year-old kid. Why would he bother with me?"

"So you don't believe 'You-Know-Who' is after you," Rita said dubiously.

"I think it's ridiculous," Harry confirmed.

"Why? Do you have different information, Ms. Skeeter?" asked Remus, leaning forward slightly. "I need to know if Harry is in any danger."

Rita's eyes widened and she pressed herself against the back of her chair. "Of course I don't!" she said emphatically. "Where would I get information about 'You-Know-Who'?" She scooted her chair back from the table and gathered her parchment and quill. "I think we're finished here," she said, her tone changing to brisk. "I need to go if I'm going to meet the deadline for tomorrow's edition." She bustled out the door quickly without a backward glance. Remus locked the door behind her and recast the silencing charm.

"I hate to admit it, but I'm impressed with you Gryffindors," said Malfoy, nodding. "That performance was worthy of a Slytherin."

"No need to be insulting, Malfoy," Harry retorted.

"You know that article is going to be more about you than me, don't you, Lupin?" Malfoy said, ignoring Harry.

"Yes," Remus answered with a shrug, "but that was the point - to take the focus off of you and Harry, and I think we accomplished that."

A worrisome thought occurred to Harry. "Won't the Ministry try to take me away from you?"

"Of course," said Remus brightly, "but it will take months, and by the time they get through all the legal hassle, you'll be seventeen."

Harry's eyes widened at the realization that he would be a legal adult in less than five months. "And then I won't need a guardian," he said in a voice that was almost a whisper.

Remus smiled at him a little sadly as he picked up the recording box. "I'd better get this to Dumbledore for safekeeping," he said. "I'll see you later, Harry."

Harry mumbled a goodbye to Remus, and then turned to Malfoy as soon as the door was closed. "You know, it is a little odd that we never discuss the war. Which side are you on, anyway?"

The Slytherin's eyes narrowed. "You heard what I said to Skeeter. My answers, unlike yours, were completely factual. It is not in my best interests to discuss politics with you."

"I'm tired of people calling it 'politics'," Harry said, beginning to get angry. "People are dying - this is a war."

"I don't owe you anything, Potter," said Malfoy, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

Harry couldn't help a small grin at the irony in that statement; just two months ago he was insisting that he did owe Harry. "Glad you finally figured that out."

Malfoy's eyes hardened in anger and his cheeks began to redden. "Look," he spat, "there's really nothing to tell. I am on my own side. I will do whatever is in my best interests."

"I'm getting sick of hearing about your best interests. Don't you have a conscience, Malfoy?" Harry asked with a mixture of curiosity and exasperation.

"Having a conscience will get you killed," said Malfoy. Harry simply stared at him in disbelief. After a moment, Malfoy continued. "Look, let's talk about you for a moment, shall we? I heard what you told Skeeter, but I don't buy it. You do believe the Dark Lord is after you. Would you like to talk about that?"

Harry was silent, trying frantically to decide what to say. He knew he couldn't trust the Slytherin with the truth, but denying it obviously wouldn't do any good. After a moment, Malfoy spoke again. "I didn't think so. You don't ask me, I won't ask you. Let's just stick to what we told Skeeter - it works best for both of us."

Harry swallowed, nodded at Malfoy, and rose to leave. As he opened the door, Malfoy said, "Quidditch later? Half past six?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a small grin, and hurried to dinner.

************************************************

As Malfoy predicted and Remus intended, Rita Skeeter's article focused almost solely on the fact that Harry's legal guardian was a werewolf. Harry's relationship with the Slytherin was mentioned only briefly at the end where Malfoy's description of it was quoted surprisingly accurately. Harry was torn between relief that the speculation about he and Malfoy was dying down and anger that yet someone else had been made to suffer for his sake.

"She made it sound like you got sacked from teaching here, and that you were arrested for criminal activity last fall! You shouldn't have sacrificed your reputation for me! It's NOT FAIR!" Harry's voice grew louder and louder as he paced Remus's sitting room.

"It wasn't much of a sacrifice Harry - werewolves don't get the luxury of a good reputation."

"Still..." Harry shouted, his footsteps accelerating. "I don't have to like it!"

"Look," Remus said, stepping in front of Harry and putting his hands on his shoulders to stop him. "You're giving up a normal childhood in order to defeat a maniac. Any sacrifice I make is tiny in comparison."

Harry nodded, but the words didn't abate his frustration. Fortunately, most of the students remembered and had liked Remus as a teacher, therefore the speculation and gossip from the article was, for the most part, not malicious. Another small boon was that Rita had apparently not realized that Remus was living at Hogwarts.

When Harry went to his next Occlumency lesson, Professor Snape seemed overjoyed that he had something new to taunt him about. Harry was usually able to ignore him, but still had the occasional lapse.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for that image of me with my head separated from my body!"

"Professor," Harry said, biting back his anger and trying his best to sound meek, "you can't take away points for thoughts, can you?"

"If they involve my imminent demise, I think I am well within my rights," the Potions Master answered in a low, dangerous voice. "Besides, by now, you should have developed the skill to prevent me from seeing those thoughts. I can only conclude that you intended for me to see the image, which is equivalent to deliberate insolence. In fact," Snape's mouth curled into a sneer, "I believe my logic justifies making it twenty points." Harry swallowed his anger, determined not to lose any more points. He couldn't help feeling glad that Snape had apparently never looked at his thoughts during Potions; if he had, Gryffindor would have never won the house cup.

"We will try something new tonight," Snape continued in a brisk tone. "You will learn to put false images in your head for your attacker to see. You will practice by visualizing three different images. Two will be true, and one will be false. I will deduce which is the false image. Begin with something simple, like what you had to eat today."

Harry thought for a moment and then nodded to indicate he was ready. "Legilimens!" Snape said softly, pointing his wand at Harry's head. Harry focused his mind first on the eggs and toast he had for breakfast, then the baked chicken and scalloped potatoes he had for lunch, and then created an image of Mrs. Weasley's excellent beef stew for his dinner.

Snape broke the spell abruptly and said, "No, you idiot! I know we didn't have beef stew for dinner. I was there! You have to keep in mind the attacker's knowledge. What is he likely to believe? What will ring true to him? What will he immediately know is a lie?" Snape paused and drew in a deep breath, presumably to calm himself. He continued in a softer tone, "Do it again. Try to make me believe you ate something that you didn't, but make it something that was actually served. Always keep your lies as close to the truth as possible."

Harry kept trying, partially to prove he wasn't an idiot, but also because he knew mastering Occlumency was a must if he was going to defeat Voldemort. He failed to fool the professor, however, because there was always more emotion associated with the true memories than the false ones. Snape berated him once again for failing to control his emotions, and when Harry finally slunk out of the dungeons towards Remus's rooms, he was wondering despondently if he was going to have to become cold and emotionless like the Potions Master.

The walk to his guardian's rooms seemed longer than usual, as if he had to drag along his abnormally heavy heart. After an hour with Remus, however, he felt lighter and was in a relatively good mood as he climbed the stairs to the seventh floor.

Harry heard voices as he approached the portrait hole and instinctively ducked into the shadows when he recognized Ginny's giggle. He was still avoiding her as much as possible and contemplated escaping back to Remus's rooms, but froze when he saw a boy wrap his arms around her waist. It wasn't Summerby; Ron had mentioned a few days before that Ginny and the Hufflepuff Seeker had broken up. Ron's tone had been casual but his expression searching, almost as if he knew Harry would be interested. Harry had tried to ignore the information since he knew Ginny only thought of him as a seventh brother and didn't want to risk the humiliation of making his feelings known.

He recognized the boy currently embracing Ginny as soon as he spoke. "Just a little kiss, Ginny?" Zabini begged as he leaned in.

Ginny leaned backward, away from Zabini, but didn't struggle against the embrace. Harry stopped breathing as he waited to see what she would do. "I haven't even said I'd go out with you yet, Blaise," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Ah - yet, you say. But you will agree."

"We'll see," she said, leaning back a little further, her expression both flattered and annoyed. Harry willed her to say no with all his might. He knew it wasn't fair, but if she didn't want him, he didn't want her to be with anyone else.

"Please give me one tiny kiss to remember you by, Ginny." Zabini probably thought he sounded romantic, but Harry was sure the plaintive tone was false.

"You'll see me tomorrow," said Ginny, and Harry could see by the softening expression in her eyes that she was going to give in.

"Yes, but it will seem like an eternity before I can gaze upon your lovely face again," Zabini said. "At least if I have a small remembrance I can comfort myself in dreams of you." Harry almost had to stifle a gag. He sincerely hoped Ginny would see through the pretty words, and was a little heartened to see her roll her eyes.

"Fine," she said. Harry wanted to close his eyes against the scene, but his lids wouldn't cooperate, as if he were compelled to watch. "If it means so much to you, one tiny kiss." She quickly touched her lips to the bridge of his nose as she twisted out of his embrace and whispered something to the Fat Lady. "Goodnight," she said with an impish smile, and disappeared behind the portrait.

As Zabini turned to walk away, Harry saw his self-satisfied smile and wanted to hex him, but forced himself to push the thought aside. It would serve no purpose for him to hex every boy Ginny dated, except to confirm that he was just like Ron, an older brother. Nevertheless, he fingered the wand in his pocket as he walked to meet the Slytherin, and watched Zabini's expression change to amusement. "Spare me the 'big brother' talk, will you?" His mouth was smiling, but his eyes hardened and narrowed, presumably in response to Harry's angry expression.

"I'm not her brother," Harry spat vehemently.

Zabini's eyes widened as if with dawning comprehension, and the smile changed to a smirk as he said, "Sorry - I must have gotten that impression from Ginny."

Harry felt his face growing hot; the desire to escape to his dormitory suddenly became much stronger than the desire to hex Zabini, and he started to move past him toward the portrait hole. Just as he was about to give the password to the Fat Lady, the Slytherin spoke again.

"Tell me something, Potter. Is it true what it said in the Prophet about you and Malfoy?"

Harry warred within himself for a moment, but curiosity won over his desire to get away from Zabini. He finally sighed and turned back toward the other boy, searching his face for a motive. "Yeah. Why?"

"Just curious," Zabini answered with a shrug. "It's pretty hard to believe you and Malfoy never talk about the war."

"We don't," Harry said with his own shrug, watching the other boy closely. The Slytherin had a casual stance and expression, but his eyes were intense, as if trying to determine whether Harry was lying. "I asked him about his loyalties once, but he wouldn't answer me."

Zabini nodded slightly, eyes still trying to penetrate Harry. As Harry thought furiously, trying to decide why this Slytherin would be so interested in Malfoy when all the others had rejected him, another thought occurred to him. Zabini turned to leave, but Harry stopped him with a question of his own. "Are they still pounding him down there?"

The eyes that turned back to Harry were deeply suspicious. "Told you that, did he?"

"No," Harry answered quickly. "In fact, he lied and said he fell or some such nonsense."

Zabini gave Harry another long look, and Harry wished fervently that he could read the other boy's motives. Finally, he said, "You really need to stay out of Slytherin House matters, Potter," and turned to leave again.

"He could really use an ally in his own House," Harry said to the retreating back, raising his voice slightly to be sure Zabini could hear him.

Zabini stopped and looked over his shoulder. "An ally?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"Slytherins don't have friends," Harry said, quoting something Malfoy had told him months earlier.

A glint of recognition registered in Zabini's eyes. He nodded, turned, and walked away.

*************************************

Author's note: "Always keep your lies as close to the truth as possible." This line from Snape is taken almost directly from Ginnysdarkside's "Some Days I Wish I Were In Slytherin." I know I'm not being terribly original here, but I thought that line was great, and it really stuck in my mind, and it was perfect here.

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