Blood Magic

Abstractions

Harry was rather tired on Wednesday morning. He skipped breakfast, but since it was a Potions morning, took the time to brush his hair.

"Good morning," Draco said cheerily.

Harry, who was just about to sit down, stopped. He regarded Draco with overt suspicion. "You like mornings, don't you?"

Draco stretched. "That depends what I was doing the night before. Sit down, Harry."

Harry sat.

"What do you think about the Halloween Ball?" Draco asked.

Harry shrugged. "I knew already. They'd decided by the end of summer."

"Have anyone you plan to ask?"

Harry nodded. "I'm going with Hermione."

Draco flinched back. "Hermione?"" he asked incredulously.

Harry frowned in puzzlement. "Who else would I ask?"

"I don't know, but you can do better than that!"

"I like Hermione!" Harry was indignant at the slight to his friend. "And she's beautiful. And clever."

"Clever enough to be a right pain! And she's not beautiful."

"She is!"

Draco opened his mouth to retort, then visibly caught himself. "De gustibus non disputandum est," he said tensely. He let out an audible breath. "You, at least, look presentable," he said. This seemed to Harry a firm change of subject. "Long hair will suit you."

"Thanks." Harry looked curiously at Draco. The blond had his father's hair -- ethereally fair, fine, and straight. Harry thought it had looked better on Lucius, where length had given it substance. He hesitated. "Why don't you grow yours?"

"My father is not dead, Harry." Draco's voice was sharp and cold -- much as Harry remembered it, but not as he has heard it recently. The thought of Lucius Malfoy did nothing to temper his response.

"No, he's in prison -- and not likely to get out in the next decade or two."

"The Malfoys have more resources than you think!"

To rescue a traitor when the Dark Lord will not?

Harry thought scornfully. "Give it up, Draco," he said.

Draco's pale face went pink with blood. Professor Snape, to Harry's relief, entered just then, saving them from the escalating fight. They worked beside each other in uncomfortable silence through the lesson.

Harry and Draco walked to their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, not together so much as in proximity by happenstance. Draco pushed past him in the doorway and sat in their usual place. Harry, uncertain whether it would anger Draco more if he presumed to sit with him or if he slighted him by sitting elsewhere, hesitated.

"Sit, Harry," Draco said firmly.

And that settles that,

Harry thought. He's not so very angry with me, then, just angry in general. I suppose I would be, too. In mixed relief and annoyance, he sat beside Draco.

"Got you well trained, hasn't he?" Ron's unexpected words were hard with disgust. Harry, despite himself, turned toward the voice. Next to Ron, Hermione was turning pink with embarrassment. She sent him an apologetic look. Ron didn't notice. "You'll look like a right pillock next to Crabbe and Goyle."

Beside Harry, Draco flinched. Harry thought mention of Crabbe hadn't helped anything. Hasn't Ron noticed?

To his surprise, Draco ignored Ron and turned on him, instead.

"How can you possibly take that girl to a party? She betrayed you to me! She sits with him while he treats you like that! You said you wouldn't be friends with her again, and now you've invited her to the ball?"

Harry felt his face burning. He glared at Draco. "Unlike some people," he said angrily, with a quick glance at Ron, "Hermione has the decency to keep her fights with friends private."

He stood, glad he had not unpacked his bag, and crossed the room to sit by Justin Finch-Fletchley. A minute later, he heard someone else moving. He forced himself not to turn his head until the door opened next. On the pretext of checking who had entered, Harry scanned quickly through the tables, and saw that both Draco and Ron were now alone. Hermione was sitting with Hannah Abbot.

Professor Lupin walked up to the front of the class. His brow furrowed as he surveyed the class. It was a duelist's subtle but purposeful gaze. Harry could almost track his evaluation of their new alliances. Obviously satisfied, Remus smiled slightly at Harry, who scowled and looked at his book.

I know he doesn't like me with Draco, but he needn't look so pleased about it.

With a slight clearing of his throat, Remus started. "For the rest of this week," he said, "we are going to study the theory that will provide our practical exercises for the rest of the term -- combining spells."

There was a low rustle of students shifting. Even Harry straightened in his seat and looked up at the professor.

"I know you've had years of being told how dangerous that is. I am going to tell you again. Combining spells is a tricky business. If either spell is miscast, the results can be unpredictable. Even harmless spells may combine dangerously.

"To start, we will be learning spells specifically intended for combination. The first is Exspira. Does anyone know what that does?"

Justin leaned towards Harry. "It sounds like a death spell," he whispered.

"No, it makes spells run out," Harry returned.

"Justin, Harry," Remus said warningly, "would one of you care to share your comments?"

"It makes another spell end at a particular time," Harry said.

Remus nodded. "Good, Harry. Raise your hand, next time, and I might award points." He tried to temper the rebuke with a smile, but Harry was again having none of it.

"Next week," Remus said, "and the one thereafter, we will be learning spells that affect the duration of another spell. The following week, I will introduce the 'By Class' Spell, Genio, which distributes the effect of a charm or hex among multiple targets. These, in their various permutations, should keep us busy until Christmas."

Harry found the class interesting, despite it being theory, and despite his simmering resentment at Ron, Draco, and Remus.

"Fascinating stuff, isn't it? I can't wait to start."

Harry nodded at Justin. "Oh -- The DA's starting up, again."

Justin's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. "But Lupin's brilliant!"

"Yes, but some people aren't allowed to study with him. Are you in or out? It will be extra work."

"In, I suppose. Unless I'm too busy with revision."

Harry nodded. "It's always optional."

He was packing his bag when he heard his name.

"Harry?" It was Remus. "Stay a minute, please."

Harry stuffed his last book in his bag. "I can't."

"You won't, you mean."

"I'll come to your office after classes. Is that all right?"

Remus rubbed a hand across his brow. He looked weary and ill, and Harry, for a moment, felt sorry for him.

"After classes, then," Remus said. His face tightened. "So get out."

That, Harry thought glumly, as he left, required that he go find Hermione and ask her for a favor. He was spared the embarrassment of making the approach; Hermione was waiting for him by the stairs.

"Harry?"

"What?'

"I'm sorry about --" She looked lost. "Ron was being horrible."

Harry nodded. "Not your fault." And it wasn't, he realized. Hermione hadn't actually done anything to him.

"But Draco --"

"Is not your fault either," Harry said sharply. "We were already fighting." He shrugged. "Will you chaperone me with Remus?"

Her face scrunched up as she tried not to laugh. "When?"

"After classes."

"Of course."

"Great! Let's go find the alternate Weasley."

"And we need to start spreading the word about the DA."

"Right."

Remus's face revealed nothing when he found the three of them at his door. Harry suspected his father had already had that talk with him. "Come in," the professor said. He sat in the armchair, and Harry settled on the near end of the couch. Ginny and Hermione stood awkwardly until Remus waved them closer.

"You might as well sit."

Hermione settled next to Harry, and Ginny perched tensely next to her.

"Well, professor?" Harry prompted.

Remus flinched. "I want to know what I did," he said resentfully. "You scowled every time I looked at you."

"It was the way you smiled."

Remus blinked. "I shouldn't smile?"

"I know you don't like me being with Draco, but you don't have to look so pleased!" Harry flushed. Remus didn't look at all shamed or defensive, just confused. "Don't say you didn't notice," Harry warned. "I saw you checking who was with whom."

Slowly, Remus nodded. "I did check that; I always do. I noticed you were not with Draco, and Hermione was not with Ron." He raised up his hands. "But I wasn't smiling because of that."

Harry crossed his arms across his chest, set his head low, and glowered.

"Harry! You looked glum, and I thought you would like the lesson, that's all."

"Oh." Harry felt himself blushing. He straightened slightly. "Sorry." He gave Remus a little apologetic smile. "I did like the lesson."

"Well, good. It's nice to be right about something." Remus regarded him speculatively. "What was the break with Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry shrugged. "I expect it's just a spat. Ron was rude to me, and Hermione didn't defend me, and Draco thinks I shouldn't be taking her to the ball."

Remus hid his face in one hand. It didn't quite conceal his amusement. "God! Nothing like a social event to get a lot of young people tied in knots. It will blow over."

"But that's not the problem with Ron," Hermione said.

Remus looked curious. Harry pulled out his wand.

"Harry?"

"Is this room secure?"

Remus waved dismissal, even as he shook his head. "I don't need the details. He found out something he shouldn't?"

"And he's not taking it well."

"And there are the attacks!" Ginny burst out. "He doesn't care. It's all just Durand, and what this does to the Quidditch season."

"Now, really --"

"She's right," Hermione interrupted. "He can tell you every match that's been rescheduled and tell you what decade that was last approved, and he doesn't even seem to notice she's going out with a Muggle-born wizard."

Remus held Harry's gaze a minute. Harry knew he himself wasn't upset with Ron over this, though he couldn't say why. He shrugged minutely, and Remus's attention moved to Hermione and Ginny.

"I think you are underestimating your friend's feeling."

"You don't understand --!" Ginny began.

"Ginny, please," Remus said. "Listen for a moment. I think I may understand Ron, in this case, quite well." His eyes flicked down to the table. "Sirius was much the same way. Ron is more comfortable with concrete things than abstractions --"

"Nine dead people isn't concrete?" Ginny raged. She silenced at a look from Remus. "Sorry, professor."

"They victims are, for the most part, abstract to him, and the reasons they were killed are also, as are their connections to his life." Remus picked up a roll of parchment and turned it slightly in his hands. "To discuss them requires thinking about a range of social factions and views on blood purity, and wondering whether death or a Dementor's kiss is more horrible. I expect it will take Ron weeks to begin to say how he feels about something so complex and so ... removed from his day-to-day conversation.

"It's easy for him to talk about Trent Durand. Durand is a single person, whom he feels he almost knows. Durand has no connection to the conflict of which he is a victim. And it's Quidditch. Ron knows how to talk about Quidditch, so that's how he will couch it, but I don't believe that's lack of feeling -- it's what Ron knows how to express."

Hermione, quite suddenly, burst into tears. Ginny, who was staring furiously at the floor, made no move to comfort her, so Harry patted her awkwardly on the back, and she leaned into him, sobbing.

"But what about her?" Ginny indicated Hermione as she lifted her glare to Remus. "She's not an abstraction. She's part of his life."

"Connecting 'Hermione'" -- Remus denoted a slice of air with his hands to represent Hermione -- "to 'Muggle-born'" -- a larger slice of air -- "is an abstraction. He knows the connection exists -- he's not unintelligent. I'm sure he understands the implications. He just can't internalize them."

That was right, Harry realized. Ron was like that. If things got too complicated, he talked about the parts of them that he understood. He often talked too much about the parts of them that he understood.

Remus nodded at Hermione. "You are you. You were not murdered."

"But this is why it can go so far!" Hermione said angrily. "Because people don't want to make the connections." She wiped tears impatiently from her face.

"But isn't this part of what you value in Ron? That he sees you as you, rather than as a Muggle-born girl or a prodigy, or some other thing?" Remus shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I remember how frightening it was when he first saw me as a werewolf. He was one of those people I expect never to treat me as human again. But the next time we met, I was 'Professor Lupin' and he was better with me than some initially more tolerant people will ever manage to be." Lupin's face twisted in a brief smile. "Of course, that also means he can say terrible things about werewolves in my presence, but not notice what he has done."

Harry nodded to himself. Remus met Harry's eyes before redirecting his attention to the girls. "This is Ron, and you know him. Explain it to him all you like, but don't think he is less caring because he doesn't have the words for it."

Harry squeezed Hermione close, as much for his own comfort as hers. After a moment, he dared ask the question that had been distracting him.

"Why Durand? Do you know?"

Remus flinched. "I had nothing to do with it, Harry. I swear I didn't."

"But do you know?"

Remus sighed shakily as he sat back. "I have heard Randolph's speeches. He makes no secret of his strategy."

"I understood the Ministry officials," Harry retorted. "I could even sympathize with that. These are the people making and enforcing decisions. The enemy, if you will. But why some Quidditch player? He can't do anything for them, and he doesn't seem to have done anything against them."

"Durand was targeted because he was popular -- full stop. The only reason for his infection is so people will see someone they adore infected."

"Then they don't understand fame! People will turn on him; some already have. Don't they understand that?"

"No -- they don't." Remus put down the parchment. "Few people understand that, I think. You do. I do because I have watched you and your press." His eyes narrowed. "Randolph is a fool. The people who follow him are so desperate for change that any plan sounds good to them."

"They are destroying their chances for mainstream support --"

"I know that, Harry!"

"Then why can't I trust you?" Harry screamed.

There was a long silence. Hermione sniffled and said tremulously, "Harry, I'm sure you can --"

Remus cut her off.

"I think that's enough of a visit for this afternoon. Harry, your discretion still leaves much to be desired." He stood, and nodded formally to them. "Please come see me again, sometime."

They found themselves in the hallway. Hermione's face had fresh tears, but she wasn't making any sound. Ginny looked anxious and hurt. Harry wanted to punch something. He found himself wishing he had never befriended Draco. He needed someone who would fight with him on any old insult. Ron would, of course, but he also might yell something about Harry's parentage.

When he got back to his room, he found a sealed envelope sitting on his pillow.

"Where did that come from?" he asked Seamus, who was the only other person in the room.

"No idea."

Harry opened the envelope. Inside was a short note in Severus's precise script.

Please come to see me at dinnertime tonight. Use the box.

Harry slipped the note into his inner pocket, together with the box with the portkey from his bedside table, and added that, as well, then went down to the common room. When Hermione showed up, he told her he would not be at dinner, and suggested that she tell anyone who asked about him that he was off sulking. They spent a little while talking about the DA and drawing up a list of who still needed to be informed. Before people started gathering to go down to dinner, Harry went for a walk. He had to find someplace where no one would notice his abrupt disappearance.

When he arrived in Severus's sitting room, he experienced a moment of disorientation. A small table was set in front of the fireplace, where he and his father had supped on his first night there, and it made the room seem smaller and more crowded. Harry looked around quickly. Severus was standing by the bookcase, before the painting of a storm-tossed ship.

"First use of the portkey." Severus nodded. "Dinner should arrive momentarily. I expect they'll serve the Great Hall, first."

He crossed over to the table, and Harry took a better look at it. It was set for two, with glossy black plates contrasting with the white linen. Crystal -- cut water glasses and smooth goblets -- reflected brilliance from the light of the candles. Severus sat. His hair was clean and sleek, and glistened in the shifting light.

"Well?" he asked impatiently. "What's wrong?"

Harry had to think for a moment. "I ... I feel like I'm being seduced." Harry ducked his head apologetically at the admission. His father stared at him in surprise for a moment, then started to laugh in half-caught gasps. Harry grinned at him and sat down. Severus pushed his hair back.

"Inspired by that sort of anxiety," he offered. "Which makes it funnier, I suppose. We've been upset too much; I thought it was time we had a pleasant visit, and pretending to be civilized can help."

"Mm." Harry looked at the table. "I can worry about what goes where, rather than what you think of me."

"Harry...." Severus picked up his empty goblet and looked searchingly at it. Finally, his focus made it across the table to Harry. "I approve of you."

Harry wasn't sure he believed that. His incredulity must have showed on his face, for Severus put the glass down with a sigh.

"You are too trusting and too reckless, and at times that makes you careless. I worry about you. Nonetheless, I approve."

Harry swallowed. "Thank you."

Dinner -- or at least wine, water, bread, and soup -- appeared. With obvious relief, Severus took a sip of the wine, then tore a roll and offered half to Harry. Harry took it with a nod and a secret flush of warmth. Severus gestured to Harry's goblet, which also had wine, although less of it.

"I told them what I wanted. It's simpler than that we had last time. You should find it more ... drinkable."

Harry, once he was done with his mouthful of bread, tried the wine. It did taste better than the previous one, but Severus's comment gave him the feeling it was not as good, properly speaking.

"Better?"

"Yes. I'm hopelessly unsophisticated, right?"

Severus hmphed. "A sophisticated sixteen-year-old makes for a very boring adult -- well, either that, or Lucius Malfoy."

Harry tried the soup. It was soothingly warm, but unfamiliar in taste. "I suppose he's not boring."

"Not until one has passed the stage of fascination ... or terror, perhaps, depending on where one stands."

Harry stifled a laugh. "Or fury."

"You would feel that way."

Harry laughed.

"I've heard in the staff room that your schoolwork has improved."

"Only because my friends aren't talking to me half the time."

"You've nothing better to do?"

"Exactly."

Severus nodded. "A poor social life will do wonders for marks. I hated that about James -- he managed to be both popular and fairly successful, academically."

"Probably not as successful as he could have been. Fred and George are brilliant!"

"Those two?"

"Really. Did I tell you about the Mood Wings?"

Harry told Fred and George stories until he made Severus laugh again. Severus ranted about the usual dismal quality of their schoolwork, and how it had been occasionally punctuated by brilliance. They reminisced about the swamp. Harry confessed that he had bankrolled Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and was a partner in it, and Severus choked on his lamb.

"Gods, Harry, have you considered the liability problems?"

"Occasionally. That's why I called them on the blood use. I told them semen would do as well, and be legal."

"You -- what?"

"They were shocked. It was great!"

Harry thought the wine might be affecting him, a bit. The glass had refilled -- or rather, re-half-filled -- when empty. His father seemed more amused than disapproving, and Harry decided to dare a serious subject.

"About Remus?"

"Harry...."

"Just a quick thing? I know we can't be certain of him, but could you not put it so personally? It's just that this is now and he is that and everything's so separated. It's not him. He's a good person; you know he is."

Unaccountably, Harry felt his eyes fill with tears, though he managed to keep any from spilling. His father smiled wryly into his wine.

"I'm the master of the preemptive attack. I'll try to restrain myself."

"You're so nasty to him."

"And you love him. Did I mention I worry about how trusting you are?"

Harry thought dizzily that perhaps Severus was frightened by his own feelings for Remus, as well.

"He's a good person," he argued vaguely.

"You can't trust him."

"I know."

Severus looked up sharply. "What prompted that?"

"He told me ... he said it was easier if I didn't."

Severus looked grim. "What has he got himself into, I wonder? I almost feel sorry for him."

Harry gave him an incredulous look.

"But only by moments." Severus put down his glass and sat back. "No more of Remus! We'll only upset each other."

"No Draco, then."

Severus looked at him sharply. "And what did young Malfoy do?"

"We had a little fight, that's all."

"About?"

"I'm taking Hermione to the Halloween Ball."

"Oh."

A noticeable stillness followed Harry's offhand explanation. After a minute, he broke it tentatively. "Is that okay?"

"Hm? Oh, of course." Severus shifted in his chair. "How is Quidditch coming?"

Harry groaned. "It's awful when Ron and I are fighting, and now Ron and Ginny are fighting, too. We have team practice tomorrow, and I'm just hoping I can pull everyone through it. At least we're not Chasers or Beaters together."

Severus smirked.

"A pity you're not playing Slytherin this weekend."

Harry returned to his room quite late. He saw Ron's eyes reflect the light from his wand for a moment, but they closed again.

"Ron?" Harry whispered.

Ron's breathing deepened as he pretended to be asleep.

---