Blood Magic

72 -- New Alliances

Severus strode into Remus's office without knocking and shut the door hard behind him. The werewolf's eyes widened in surprise, or perhaps alarm, but when he spoke, his voice was calm and quiet.

"May I help you, Severus?"

Severus forced himself to speak at a matching volume, but he could not quite manage calm. "Lupin. What happened between Harry and Granger?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. I did notice they were avoiding each other in yesterday's class, but that's not unprecedented."

"Doesn't he talk to you?"

Remus's lips drew back in a quick snarl, but his voice, when it resumed, was precise and polite. "He is forbidden to talk to me."

Severus pulled back a scream of rage. Neither of them cares; do they think I don't know it? "How obedient of you," he sneered.

"Death threats will sometimes have that effect on me." Lupin sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. "What is it that you want, Severus?"

Severus gritted his teeth. "If I permitted it, would you speak to Harry for me?"

A cold smile crossed Lupin's face. The expression did not suit him, Severus thought. He wondered when the werewolf had learned to be a predator.

"Will he no longer speak with you?"

Remus's voice was low with pleasure. Severus clenched his hands into fists. "I cannot keep my temper."

"Really? I'm shocked."

"Will you speak with him?"

"No."

"What!"

"No. It is not safe."

"I will NOT --"

"You will not. You're not the only snake in this grass, Snape. I will not speak to Harry." His gaze wavered. "I can speak to Hermione, if you would like."

"Hermione?"

"She must also know what they fought about."

Severus nodded stiffly. "If you would, I.... Thank you."

It occurred to Severus, as he walked to his first class, that he could speak to Granger himself. He spent most of his second lesson studying her and thinking about it. She was inattentive, today, but did not look as miserable as she had on Tuesday. He supposed he could ask, at least. Near the end of class, when he was evaluating potions, he paused to advance the invitation.

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Stay after class, please."

"But I --" Granger managed to halt the words. "Yes, sir."

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

Hermione couldn't imagine why Professor Snape would want to speak to her. Her potion had been perfect, as usual, and she hadn't caused any trouble, even by Professor Snape's biased standards. She sat in her chair while the other students filed out. When the room was otherwise empty, he took a few steps towards her. She stood.

"Miss Granger." For a moment, he just stared at her, his face pale and drawn, his lips moving occasionally in little attempts to form words. His eyes closed for a moment.

"No," she said tartly, when they opened again. "I haven't conveniently disappeared."

"Miss Granger, Harry has not been ... forthcoming ... about what happened between the two of you. I ..." He paused. "... I want to make it clear that I do not disapprove of you."

Hermione stared at him. He looked as ill as Harry had when he had been preparing to face the dragon.

"Well, it's a bit academic, now," she offered finally, "but thank you."

"I ... Did he...?"

Hermione didn't know what Snape was trying to ask. She wasn't sure he did, either.

"We made up," she said. "He was unclear, and I was frightened that he would ... that he'd even mention it. That it could start to matter. I ran away, and it took me a while to realize he hadn't really been offensive -- except for the thought that it mattered, and ... well, it's not his fault, really. It does matter, if it bothers you, and Draco, and Fudge; I can't expect him to pretend it doesn't."

Snape looked down. For a moment, he stood still, then he turned, so he was facing half-away from her. "I feel like I am ruining him," he said softly. Hermione tried to speak, but couldn't manage any sound. He didn't notice. "About all any one can say about me is that I am preferable to Fudge -- possibly to the Dursleys."

A familiar flush of anger gave Hermione back her voice. "Do you know what he was like last year? Brooding, and fits of temper, screaming at his friends, pigheaded defiance ... and when Sirius died, I was afraid this year would be worse -- either that, or he'd be broken." She managed a slight nod. "He's been ... better. I mean, since he told us. Happy, occasionally. More confident. Sometimes even social --"

"And he is reading books of Dark Arts, and manipulating people, and trotting around after Malfoy, and getting his knickers in a twist over his girl's bloodlines!"

"He wants to please you."

Snape's eyes closed. His voice came out at a bare whisper. "He does please me. He pleases me when he figures something out and is proud of it. He pleases me when he dares tease me in front of the Weasleys. He pleases me when he forgets --" He stopped. "And then he is suddenly so formal. 'Yes, sir,' 'No, sir,' 'Did I do something wrong, Father?' I feel like it will never --" He broke off. "And why I am telling this to you, of all people...!"

Hermione shrugged. She decided that for once, she had better not give her best answer. "I'm here," she said, instead. "And you know that I care about him too." She struggled to keep her voice steady. "I think you've been good for him, more than not. Now may I go? I'll be late for Arithmancy."

He waved a hand at the door. His voice was barely audible. "Go."

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

Harry felt odd walking into the Gryffindor common room. Hermione had done her best to patch things up by studying with him the night before, and sitting with him at breakfast and lunch, but he could still hear mutters when he entered, and a few people fixed him with disapproving looks when he first looked their way. Harry suspected that the majority of his house assumed that Hermione's rejection of him due entirely to some horrible thing he had done, and her subsequent softening only indicated emotional weakness. He kept his head high and crossed the room to where Zoë was playing chess with Dean.

"Hi."

Zoë's brief smile lacked its usual warmth. "Hi, Harry."

Dean looked up at him. "I saw you with Hermione at lunch," he said. "All sorted?"

Harry thought it must be handy to have skin that obscured a blush. He was fairly sure that Dean was uncomfortable about having avoided him. "All sorted," he said. "She's not my girlfriend any more, though."

"Rough." Dean moved a bishop.

Harry sat down straddling the spectator's chair and stared at the board. "A bit. I've started to think -- perhaps it will work better. She's pushy enough as a friend. As my girlfriend, she seemed to think she was in charge of my behavior."

"She is a prefect," Zoë pointed out. Her voice was a bit sharp.

"I know, but .... but she's never been like this, before. I'm not talking about school rules." He swallowed. "Are you angry at me?"

"I don't really know whether to be angry or not -- I don't know what you did. Ginny is still, a bit, but not as much since Hermione told her what happened."

Harry tried to think of some way to explain enough without telling the whole story.

"It was political."

"Political?"

Harry tensed. "She finds my behavior overly ... assimilationist, and I said something that she misunderstood, and things got out of control."

Zoë blinked at him. "She doesn't want you to act like a wizard?"

"Right. I mean, that wasn't why she broke up with me, but that's where it started. It just escalated from ... she doesn't like my clothes, my hair, the books I read...."

Dean made a thoughtful sound. "You really think it'll be better?"

Harry shrugged. "I hope. Ron had the same sort of problems dating her -- not about that, of course -- and they're fine, now." He glanced over at Zoë. "Don't suppose you'd like to go to the ball with me?

She smiled. "Well, even if I didn't mind being an obvious second choice...."

"How do you know that? I was already going out with her when we got to know each other."

"Even if," Zoë repeated, "it would remain that I already have a date."

Harry gave a tragic sigh. "A pity. I'll need to hunt beyond my house, then."

"No other Gryffindor girls you like?" Zoë asked in surprise.

"None." Harry swung off the stool. "Familiarity breeds contempt, and all that." He started off. Zoë sat upright in her chair.

"Some other time?" she called after him.

He looked back and grinned. She really was pretty. "I'll keep it in mind."

Harry wandered down to the library before dinner, and managed to find Draco, studying at a table by the window. Harry suspected that if his common room was as dark at Slytherin's, he'd study in the library too.

"Hi," he whispered, slipping into a seat across from Draco.

"Hi yourself!" Draco grinned. "You look happier, today. Have your partner back?"

Harry couldn't repress a smirk, though he knew it wouldn't make any sense to Draco. "Nah -- she got another date. And Zoë's taken. So you can introduce me to the Slytherin girl -- I won't guarantee I'll be interested, but I'm willing to meet her."

"Understandable." Draco nodded. "Let me check and see if she's still available. If she is, I'll arrange something for tomorrow after classes." He frowned. "That's only two weeks from today, isn't it? "

"Really?" Harry's surprise turned quickly to delight. Two weeks to the ball meant two weeks and a day until Severus acknowledged him. They ought to be able to keep the secret that long.

"That's why we have the second Hogsmeade weekend, this week. In case people need supplies or presents for the girls. From that grin, may I take it you're set on what to wear?"

Harry wondered when the twins would get back to him. "Almost."

"Hunh. I hate these things. It's almost as bad as deciding what you want to be for real. Should I wear fifteenth-century French court dress, or go as a fox?"

Harry burst out laughing and had to duck his head submissively in return to Madame Pince's glare.

"How about a fox in fifteenth-century French court dress?"

Draco sniggered. "Could be fun. Now get out of here before you get me in trouble -- I need to finish this before dinner."

Dinner was refreshingly social. Ron had finally asked Lavender to the ball, and Lavender, to almost everyone's surprise, had accepted. Ron was still in a blissful stupor, and spent most of the meal gazing worshipfully at Lavender, who was sitting with her own friends, a short way down the table. Now and then, she would glance back and smile at him. Dean and Seamus traded snide comments, none of which Ron seemed to hear. Colin had skipped dinner. Ron emerged from his haze long enough to ask Harry and Hermione if they were going together, again. Hermione said "no," then stopped. Ron did not ask for details, which seemed to confuse her. Harry would have teased her about her date, but he wasn't sure she wanted to tell Ron in front of an audience. Harry demurred on his own prospects. "I might just go by myself. I expect girls will dance with me anyway."

They were back in the Gryffindor common room, and Hermione was starting to look nervous, when a huge owl arrived at the window with a large, cylindrical parcel.

"For you, Potter," called the seventh-year who had let it in.

Teresa, whose room was close, subbed Harry a few owl treats, and looked curiously at the parcel. "Are you going to open it?"

"Not down here."

Hermione peered at the return address and grimaced. "Harry! What have they sent you this time?"

"Just something for the ball." Harry smirked at her. "Don't fret."

"Well pardon me for not trusting the twins!"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not saying you should." He stood up. "Anyway, I'll think I'll take this upstairs."

"Wait!" Hermione grabbed at his arm. "Um... Ron, could we speak to you a moment?"

Ron -- finally -- noticed them. His focus went from Hermione's face to Harry's face to Hermione's hand. He rolled his eyes. "Fine."

In the corner, Hermione was still clutching Harry's arm as if she would otherwise fall. Harry patted her hand and tried not to grimace. Ron crossed his arms. "Go ahead, then."

"Ron, I ..." Hermione bit her lip nervously. "I have a new partner for the ball." She hesitated. "A girl."

Ron stared at Hermione for a moment. His eyes narrowed, and he turned on Harry. "What the hell did you DO to her?"

Harry grinned. "Do?" he asked. "Come on, Ron -- we lasted as long as the two of you did."

Ron's arms moved in wide arcs before gesturing accusingly at Hermione. "Yeah, but when she left me, she still liked blokes!"

"I still do, Ron!" Hermione let go of Harry to fold her arms over her chest. "I'm not even sure this will work! We've only kissed once. But ... but she asked me, and I was still angry at him, and I like her...." Hermione trailed off. Her eyes were wide and unhappy. "Is it okay?"

"Well, it's not like you would have gone with me, now is it?" Ron sounded rather angry. After a look at Hermione's face, he softened. "Don't look like that! What's wrong?"

"I ... nothing."

Harry cut in. "I believe you owe me five galleons."

"What?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes, that was probably close enough. Pay you at Hogsmeade?"

"What are you two on about?"

"We had a bet about how you'd react."

Ron froze for a moment. "So this is ... some sort of joke?"

"No. She really is going with some Ravenclaw girl. We just had a bet on how you'd react. I said you'd blame me."

Ron threw up his hands. "Well, what else should I think? never saw her sniffing around the girls before she snogged you!"

Harry stepped back and gestured at Hermione. "Give her a hug," he ordered.

"Are you mental? Why?"

"Because she needs that now. Go on."

Reluctantly, with an odd look at Harry, Ron hugged Hermione. The embrace became warmer when she returned it.

"Hermione?" His voice softened. "What are you crying for?"

"Nothing." Hermione gave a little gasping laugh. "It's just that girls are mental, you know." She flung an arm out to pull Harry in. "I love you both so much."

Harry kissed her hair, then, on impulse, tugged on Ron's.

"Ouch. Stop that!"

Harry laughed and stepped back. "I'm going to go open my parcel, now."

Ron followed Harry up to the dormitory. He sat down on his bed and watched Harry undo the string on the parcel. He didn't even complain that Harry was untying it, rather than cutting it.

"Do you think it's a phase?" he asked.

Harry looked up. "What?"

"The ... the girl. Do you think she really likes that sort of thing?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. She liked the kiss, apparently."

"Do you think that's what was wrong with ... us?"

Harry had already thought this over.

"No, I think it's that we're ill-behaved and take badly to correction." He hesitated. "Of course, a girl might be better behaved. I think they are, I mean. On average."

"What are you two talking about?" Dean was in the corner, sketching. He looked completely perplexed.

"Hermione." Harry grinned. "She's going to the ball with some Ravenclaw girl."

Dean choked. "So that was Ginny's secret!"

Harry slid the twine off the parcel and peeled back the paper, exposing a tight roll of brilliant silver. He picked up the edge of the cloth and let it unroll. Some strips of leather and a mass of white cloth fell out of it. After finding shoulder seams and shaking down the garments, Harry found he had two shirts -- one a tight, very short-sleeved iridescent silver, and the other loose and white with laces from chest to collar. It had a sort of pirate look, Harry decided. The leather bits seemed to be the wand sheath.

"What are those?"

"Possible shirts for my fancy dress. Courtesy of the twins." Harry opened his trunk, undressed, and shimmied into the leather pants. He arranged the side laces, then pulled on the iridescent shirt. It clung like a second skin. Harry pulled back the curtain that usually covered the mirror on their door.

"That works." He shivered.

"Don't start admiring yourself," Ron said sharply.

"Mm. But it --" Harry stopped. He pulled the shirt off and tried the other one. This needed to be tucked in, which involved quite a lot of squirming. He twisted, trying to see if the hem showed through the tight leather. He thought it did.

"What do you think?" he asked Ron.

"No idea."

"Come on, Ron -- does it look good? Did the other one look better?"

"I'm not attracted to you."

"Ron!" Harry glared. "That is neither helpful, nor relevant. It's just a damn shirt."

Dean intervened. "The tight, shiny one."

"Thanks, Dean!"

"But ... could I sketch you in this one? Maybe with one of the swords from the common room?"

Ron stood up. "See you later." He left.

In Potions on Friday morning, Harry thought his father looked terrible. He was deliberately boisterous with Draco, to give Severus adequate opportunity to keep him after class. He was not surprised when the Potions master took it.

When the last student left, Harry shut the door and heard his father's voice, behind him, casting the wards. He turned slowly. Severus stared at him for a moment in silence.

"Sorry," Severus muttered.

"'S'alright."

"You didn't ... didn't come back."

"Excuse me?"

"Last night. I asked you...."

Harry thought back. His father had asked. Come back tomorrow and I'll behave decently, or something like that.

"Sorry. I totally forgot you'd wanted me to." Harry smiled apologetically. "It was all a bit traumatic. Hermione came and found me afterwards, and we made up, which was good, but just as overwhelming, and ... it all rather blurred." He hesitated. "I wasn't angry at you, or anything."

"Well." Severus looked as awkward and vulnerable as one of Harry's peers. He shrugged. Harry wasn't certain he'd ever seen that particular gesture from him, before. "Would you visit me, tonight? I think ... we should talk."

"All right. After lights out?"

Severus nodded. "That would be safer."

Harry got to Defense Against the Dark Arts a few minutes late. "So," Professor Lupin was saying, "do you all feel comfortable with the By Class spell?"

Nods, some mild and some emphatic; a few people murmured agreement. Harry, who could feel his gut tighten at the mere sound of Remus's pleasant voice, ignored the question as he slipped into the empty seat next to Draco.

"Well, I'd like to see how you do. Divide into groups of five, and warm up with two rounds of test combinations." Remus's worn face lit up with sudden mischievous look that Harry had forgotten he had; it made him look years younger. "Then we'll discuss a few ground rules, and melée, five-a-side."

Everyone was instantly alert. A couple of students audibly gasped. Harry grabbed Draco's arm. "We need Hermione," he whispered urgently, under Remus's continued instructions.

Draco hesitated, then gave a short nod. "Fine."

Harry looked across the aisle and caught Hermione's eye. He made a beckoning gesture. She furrowed her brow and looked significantly at Draco. Harry repeated the gesture. Remus finished his instructions, and Harry reached out and grabbed Hermione's arm. "With us. Ron, too."

Draco looked startled. "I did not agree to the Weasel."

"Believe me," Harry said dryly, "they're a package deal."

"I won't!" Ron said.

"Hannah!" Draco called, and Hannah came and joined them.

"Come on," Harry urged.

Hermione shot another cautious look at Draco, then picked up her books. "All right."

"Ron?"

"No." Ron stalked off and joined Ernie and Terry.

"Justin?" Harry asked Draco. Draco shrugged.

"Justin!"

Justin, with a look of amusement, walked over. "All right with you?" he asked Draco.

"Sorted," Harry said.

Draco rolled his eyes and sat back. "An excellent team, I think," he said. "Well distributed."

"How so?" Justin asked. He seemed to be trying to work out whether or not to be offended. Draco gestured at the group of them.

"Three boys, two blonds, two curly-haired people ... we're difficult to take out in a single attack."

"All European," Hermione observed.

Draco smirked. "Not entirely."

Everyone else looked critically at their teammates. Harry eliminated Hannah immediately, as simply too blond to have any other ancestry. Hermione would certainly have told him if she had, he decided, which left Justin. Justin, however, was also studying him and Hermione.

"How would you know?" Hermione asked.

"Earlier tests with Genio."

At Draco's answer, Harry remembered the time he and Padma had glowed. He whirled to stare at Draco, who raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"You did know, didn't you, Potter?"

"It's rather dilute. I'd forgotten actually. I don't expect it will help if they specify skin color."

Draco looked at him critically. "No, probably not. That's nearly as white as mine." He shrugged. "At any rate, that, and age, are the only ways to take all of us out."

Harry looked at the other team. "Four boys."

"And four with brown eyes, I think."

"Four with detached earlobes," Hermione said.

"How on earth do you notice that?" Draco burst out.

"You're not the only one that does research."

Professor Lupin stopped next to their group. "I don't see any testing going on here."

"We were discussing strategy, professor."

"Five more minutes."

"Yes, sir."

They went quickly round once. Hermione got Justin and Draco on the first round. Draco raised an eyebrow at her.

"You both have two wisdom teeth."

Harry, determined to try something clever, attempted "people who have used Dark Arts." It didn't work, which made sense as soon as he thought about it. He realized scars wouldn't work either. He gave up and attacked the blonds.

Draco tried something that caused Justin to glow. He frowned and tried it again.

"Granger, there's no possibility that you're adopted or anything, is there?"

"No."

Draco gestured Remus over. "Professor," he said, "I know you said purebloods are not essentially distinct, but I managed another spell that relied on ancestry, so I decided to try for Muggle ancestry. Only one of our Muggle-borns glowed, and our wizard-born half-blood didn't. I tried again and got the same result, so it doesn't appear to be random. What is being detected?"

Remus shrugged. "I don't know." He looked uneasily at Hermione, and then, his face clearing, at Harry. "Draco, I was in the next room when Harry was born. I know him by scent, as I did his mother. He definitely has Muggle ancestors." He frowned. "Let's discuss this some other time. I want to get started."

Draco nodded. "Fine with me."

The first round was called. Professor Lupin began to circulate among the students, removing the more persistant hexes. Draco surveyed the interestingly petrified Justin and currently rather furry Hannah, shrugged, and leaned back against a nearby desk. He looked wryly between Harry and Hermione. "I gather you two are back together, after all?"

Harry grinned at Hermione. "Nah. We're just mates."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Girls are not 'mates', Harry. Even I know that."

"She is."

"Has she ever broken rules with you?"

Harry looked triumphant. "Yes."

"Does she talk about girls with you?"

Harry remembered Hermione telling him how Lydia kissed. They looked at each other and she giggled.

"Yes."

Draco looked surprised. "Well, I'm certain she does not allow you to skip lessons when you're hung over."

Hermione spluttered. Harry laughed. "Sorry, Draco -- I've never been hung over. Never been that drunk."

"Oh, right. No point in you drinking -- you have that lovely custom potion with the mysterious supplier."

Harry could feel himself heating. Hermione frowned.

"Harry! Have you been giving him bubbles?"

"There," Draco drawled. "Girls. I told you."

Harry attempted to disarm Hermione's disapproval with a smile. "It's not so bad. You should try it."

"No, I should not!"

"I bet I could even duel on it."

Draco perked up and glanced across the room. "Got any? Lupin will be busy for a minute or two more."

Harry looked. Neville had been hit by some sort of elegant variation on the Dancing Hex that was causing him to cycle through poses Harry would not have thought him capable of attaining. He looked like he was doing a Yoga routine, or possibly Tai-Chi. It seemed to have Remus stymied.

"Who cast that?"

"Padma. It's one of the ones you reflected." Draco jigged impatiently. "Got any?"

Harry pulled the bottle out. "Want some?"

"Harry!" Hermione hissed.

"Not me, idiot!" Draco stepped back. "No, Potter -- trusting your base instincts is one thing -- we don't want to try mine, believe me."

"Neither of you is going to use that during a duel!"

Draco held out his hand. "Come on. I'll dispense."

With another quick glance at Lupin, Harry pulled the cord over his head and thrust the small bottle at Draco.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice was urgent, but still low enough not to carry to the other side of the room and their professor. "This is not safe!"

"It's not going to make me do anything, Hermione. The risk is that I won't do something. I should find out, and this is the safest place, with Remus here."

"Without him knowing?"

"Well, I'm not going to tell him."

There was a sudden motion across the room, and Lupin was in front of them in an instant.

"Care to let me in on what's going on?" he asked mildly. Harry suddenly remembered that werewolves had better than human hearing. He wondered how much Remus had caught. Probably from his name. What did we say after that? He did his best to look innocent.

"Just strategy, sir."

Remus tried Hermione. She looked down, but stayed silent.

"What are you holding, Draco?"

Draco's fist was totally enclosing the small bottle, but the cord dangled out. He looked innocently at Remus. "Just bubbles, sir."

Harry winced. Had Remus not known about the bubble potion, it would have been a very clever reply. As things were....

"Harry!" Remus turned on Harry. "Of all the --! I'd think you were Sirius's child, if I didn't know better! In class! Over the summer holidays is one thing, but --"

"I want to know if I can duel on it, sir."

Remus blinked and went suddenly calm. Harry wasn't sure it was an improvement. "I see. So this was to be an intentional experiment?"

"Yes sir. I gave it to Draco to give to me so I couldn't decide to do more. We figured it was safest to try here --"

"No." Remus caught the quick snarl. His voice became pleasant again. "We will make your experiment, but not in my lessons. Give me that." He held out his hand, and Draco, with visible reluctance, handed over the necklace. Remus turned back to Harry. "Stay after class. Keep whomever you feel necessary to guarantee your safety. You will duel me."

Harry considered refusing. He looked across the room, to where Ron was watching nervously. "If I can get Ron to stay, sir."

"Agreed." Remus stuffed the necklace into his pocket. "Now, please try behave in class, Harry." He looked back at Justin and Hannah. "I'll return in a minute."

"Sorry," Draco said, as soon as he'd left. "I didn't think he'd know."

Harry smirked. "I ambushed him with some over the summer."

"You what?"

"I blew some in his face. He got really sweet on it. I'd never seen him that relaxed before."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Would this have anything to do with your lapses into using his given name?" he drawled.

"No -- that was earlier. Also this summer, though." Harry looked at Hermione. He bit his lip. "Thanks for not telling."

She shrugged unhappily.

"You would have, as my girlfriend -- called him over, I mean. I think I like you better this way."

Hermione blinked, then frowned thoughtfully.

"And now you know what sort of things Draco and I snigger about during lessons."

She rolled her eyes. "I might have liked it better when I thought he was insulting people."

"Why?"

"I quite agree," Draco drawled. "It's disgraceful the way Harry is corrupting me."

"I am not corrupting you!"

Draco lifted his eyebrows incredulously. "I have had the bubbles. You have not been drunk. Therefore, if one of us is being corrupted, it must be me."

Hermione giggled. "Just don't let him give you cigarettes."

Draco made a face. "Euch. Not likely."

At the end of class, Hermione and Draco lingered, though Draco dropped back to give Harry more room to approach Ron. Ron agreed to stay, but looked uncomfortable. When Remus held out the bottle to him, suggesting he dispense, he refused to take it, and Remus, his expression teasing, refused to give it to Harry. It was Draco who stepped forward and took it, blew bubbles in Harry's face, then smirked and stepped back. Hermione watched with a frown and her arms crossed over her chest.

Harry lost the first round of the duel without lifting his wand, and the whole situation seemed so silly that it was a while before he could stop laughing long enough to suggest they try again in two minutes. The second round wasn't nearly as much of a rout -- he got one hex off and did not collapse into giggles afterwards. They tried again in another two minutes, and it was almost a real duel -- both of them got off several hexes, and Harry managed to block one and hit Remus with a disorientation hex. Remus still managed to stun him.

"Good enough," Remus said, still keeping one hand on a desk, after Ron had revived Harry. "You're almost back to normal, and I'd like to pretend I could still beat you when you are. Now, no more of this foolishness about being able to defend yourself on drugs, magical or not, agreed?"

Harry frowned. "As long as Hermione drops this foolishness of thinking it might make me dangerous."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Only to yourself. Run along now, children -- all of you. Full moon's in a week -- I haven't the energy for this."

Draco bumped against Harry in the hall after lunch and told him to come down to the pitch after classes to meet the fifth-year. When Harry got there, Draco was flying by himself. Harry looked around and spotted a figure in the stands. For a moment, he thought it was a boy, then realized it was the short-haired Slytherin girl. Well, Draco did say she wasn't looking for a husband. Harry shook his head. And I've got used to the idea that all girls have long hair. He grinned. I suppose it's not short because she's a lesbian, then.

Harry made his way up into the stands. The girl noticed him while he was walking across from the stairs. She smiled at him, then looked down. After a moment, she looked up again, and met his eyes directly. Harry suppressed the impulse to look down in turn. Instead, he closed the distance and held out his hand.

"Hello. I'm Harry."

"Hello, Harry. I'm Olivia Wilkenson."

She shook firmly, for a girl. Harry sat down. He cast around for something to say. Draco was swooping dizzily through the rings. "Er ... Do you like Quidditch?"

Olivia sniffed. "Of course not!" She smiled brightly at him. Harry felt lost. He hadn't expected a Slytherin girl to be pretty, and he didn't know what to think of a girl who supposedly liked him so cheerily dismissing Quidditch. "I mean," she said, "if I liked Quidditch, I wouldn't consider going out with you, now would I? You're Slytherin's worst rival on the pitch -- I know that much."

"Oh." Harry tried to absorb this. He considered noting that Draco didn't seem to mind, but decided to let that go. "What do you like about me?" he asked.

Olivia looked slightly uncomfortable. She watched Draco for a minute. "Well, I...." She started again. "I can't claim I'm not affected by you being 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'. I don't think anyone who doesn't really know you can avoid that. But mostly, I just -- I think you're handsome, and Draco is more reasonable since I started seeing you together --"

"I don't think that's me."

"No?"

"The other way round, perhaps. I mean, perhaps we started getting along because he's more reasonable."

"But you would have had to have noticed." When Harry nodded, she continued. "Some people just don't. I've been watching him, this term, and I've seen the difference between people who notice and people who don't. I prefer the ones who do."

Harry nodded again. That made sense. "So you're someone who notices, too."

Wordless, she nodded. Harry smiled slightly. "I like that, too."

"I didn't really notice you until you started showing up with him. I knew who you were, of course -- Harry Potter, wonderful or terrible, depending who was talking --"

"And the latest round of news coverage."

She giggled. "Yes! But that first time you walked into lunch with him, I looked up and you were handsome, and you carried yourself so well...." She blushed.

"Ah." Harry felt encouraged. She noticed him after he started changing, he realized. That was probably good. In the interest of fairness, he said, "I first noticed you when Hermione was lecturing me on the wizarding significance of hair length, and telling me I could grow -- No, that's wrong. I saw you, and pointed you out, and said wasn't it odd for a wizarding girl to have short hair? So she explained that the hair meant you weren't looking for a husband --"

"Not that I mind the idea. I'm just not to be bought."

"Bought?"

"I don't have a set bride price."

"Oh!" Harry had run across the concept of bride price in the old play. It was like dowry, but paid from the groom's family to the bride's. "Is that still done?"

"Yes, of course! With half again as many wizards as witches, that's how the market runs."

"So you don't have a price?"

"Something would be set, of course. I wouldn't be so cruel to my family as to go for free. But also, I'm not necessarily looking for someone rich, or even a pureblood. I have my own plans; they don't depend on a husband."

"Mm." Harry liked the girl, he decided. "Good for you."

"One's plans should be one's own."

"Yes."

"So what do you want to do?"

Harry hesitated. "Beyond killing Voldemort, I don't know."

Olivia didn't wince or scold. She grinned. "Ambitious enough!"

"Well, that's my job, at the moment. After that -- well, it hasn't seemed likely enough I'll live through that to bother planning more."

"Ugh!" She made a face at him. "So you are a Gryffindor, after all."

"Hm?"

"Attack first, think about it later."

"And then probably because someone's asking what happened -- right." Harry grinned at her. "You know -- thinking is a luxury reserved for those that live."

"I hope you're joking."

"Only a bit, really. I do charge into things." Harry shifted on the bench. "So, what are your plans-that-are-your-own?"

"I want to be Secretary of Control of Magical Creatures."

Harry felt his eyebrows shoot up. He swallowed and thought a moment before answering. "Officially, or by proxy?"

She glared. "Officially."

"Ambitious enough?"

"Yes."

Harry hesitated. "I hate the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures," he admitted.

That startled her out of her offense. "Why?"

He looked in her eyes. They were a greyish-blue, with faint peaks radiating outwards, in a way that reminded him of short fur. "Remus Lupin is a good friend of mine."

"Ah." Those eyes were briefly veiled by pale lids. The lashes were darker than Draco's, or perhaps magically tinted. "I'd like to see more consistency, myself." She sat back and began to gesture. "Some system based on intelligence, magical ability, and the frequency and degree of threat to normal wizards -- werewolves would do better by that, by the way -- rather than just degree of fear, which seems to be what's used now."

"How do you feel about House Elves?"

"Oh, don't tell me you want to free the House Elves!"

"Not all of them, or even most, but I think the few that want freedom should have it. At any rate, there should be some enforced minimum standard of treatment --"

"Now, minimum standard of treatment I can support!"

Harry laughed. "You know what?"

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "What?" she challenged.

"I think I can put up with you for an evening."

She leaned closer. He did the same. Her finger, laid across her lips, came between them. "Shhh."

"Hm?"

Her eyes darted up to the swooping form of Draco Malfoy. "Don't let on, or he'll know we're done."

They separated, both giggling.

"All right," Harry said. "Big question. Voldemort?"

"Awful. Purebloods?"

"Depends on their behavior. Muggles?"

"Depends on their behavior."

"Will your family want to murder me, or lock you in a tower?"

"I'm not intending to let my family know. My mother would bury me in irritating tips on how to snare you into marriage. You may not be a pureblood, but you're rich, and famous, and could well become politically powerful."

"They'll know eventually."

"But after the ball. I'll claim we're not speaking, however it turned out."

"Do you care about my parentage?"

Olivia paused. Her brow furrowed. "Not if you can behave."

"All right. Fancy dress?"

"I intend to."

"As what?"

"I hadn't quite decided. I thought I'd make up my mind this weekend, when we're in Hogsmeade. You?"

"It's a Muggle thing." Harry took a deep breath. "Some people will consider it a bit too -- um, sexy, or something. Will that offend you?"

"Oooo. I might like. Can I see it before I choose mine?"

Harry stood up. "I suppose. Where would you like to meet?"

"The Charms classroom, twenty minutes."

Harry nodded. "Agreed." He glanced up at the sky as Olivia, also, got to her feet. "Shall we let him know we're ready?"

Olivia's eyes flickered to the Slytherin Seeker. "Let's."

They stepped forward, as one. Harry let his eyes close as their lips met. Hers were warm under his, first hard and insistent, then softening with a sigh that whispered through his mouth and out. He stroked his hands down her back, and she responded by moving closer than he would have believed possible, until her body was pressed against his own, and he wondered if it could actually be true that some girls didn't notice when boys were aroused.

"Oh," she sighed.

Someone nearby cleared his throat. Harry opened his eyes to see Draco hovering above the steps, looking very amused.

"All sorted then?"

Olivia pulled away. She managed to look self-possessed, even with her lips swollen and dark from kissing. "Except for reviewing his fancy dress, we seem to be."

"And that will be?"

"In twenty minutes."

"I will escort you."

Harry felt a bit irritated, but Olivia merely nodded. "How sweet of you, Draco. I appreciate that."

Harry sent Draco a very ungrateful glower. "Thanks."

"You're quite welcome. Run along, now." Harry was half-way down the stairs before Draco added, at a yell,

"And don't forget you're the Good Boy."

Harry went down to the charms classroom in the Muggle outfit and his invisibility cloak. Since he was not wearing his robe, he included the thigh-sheath for his wand. He had to move slowly to be quiet in his boots, and Draco and Olivia were already in the room when he arrived. They turned as the door opened. Olivia started to rise when it closed again, but Draco caught at her wrist.

"It's Harry. Right, Harry?"

Harry slipped the cloak from his shoulders. "Yeah."

Olivia put a hand over her mouth. Draco stared.

"Shit." He stood up, and took a few steps to one side, his eyes locked on Harry. "If I'd seen you in that, I might have invited you myself."

"Draco...."

Draco grinned at the warning tone in Harry's voice. "Well, perhaps not," he said airily. "You may look like sex on two legs, but I'll bet you don't put out."

Olivia giggled suddenly. "Harry?"

"Yes?" Harry looked at her. "So what do you think?"

"Stunning. Um ... would you mind if I dressed very properly? Not ... staid, you know, but a coming out dress?"

Harry shrugged. "That's fine, I suppose. We'll clash a bit, but...."

"No, no, it's perfect. The deb and the dangerous Muggle boy." She giggled. "Can you swagger?"

Draco snorted. "Please! He's a Gryffindor. He can swagger in his sleep."

Harry listened carefully from his room, then emerged into Severus's kitchen. He noticed, trying not to think about it too much, that portkey travel no longer left his heart hammering -- far worse was the sense of déjà vu when he saw Severus standing by his desk.

He slipped off his cloak and stepped forward uncertainly. "Hello, sir?'

Severus whirled. His voice struck fast and low. "Why do you still call me that?"

"I...." Harry was startled by both the question and its intensity. "Because you wanted me to?" He thought back to the summer. "The ... going up to dinner...."

"This is not that sort of discussion."

"I ... I'm never certain what sort it is."

Severus sighed and rubbed his hands over his temples. "Never mind. It's not important. Come sit down. Wine?"

"Yes, sir." Harry stopped. "I mean ... I ... thank you, yes." He knew his awkwardness was making things worse, somehow, but didn't know what to do about it. He sat nervously by the fire and pulled his bare feet up beside him before reaching out to take the wine. Severus shifted restlessly, then abruptly sat, also. He cleared his throat.

"I ... I apologize for hitting you. That was inappropriate."

Harry felt himself heat. "S'alright."

"It is not all right."

"Well it's...." Harry tried to think about it. "You weren't too angry. It wasn't like Uncle Vernon would get. Not that he usually hit me, but ... I wasn't afraid you'd do anything worse."

That wasn't right either. Severus stared at him with a cold intensity that was worse than any of his fits. "If that hideous shrew and her ... her pigs were still alive, I would kill them."

Harry tried to look amused. "Thank you."

This, also, did not lighten the mood. Harry cast around for something else to say. "I'm sorry for implying --"

"Did you really think I would be pleased?"

"I...." Harry thought back. "No. Relieved, perhaps, but I knew ... there wasn't any way to please you. That's what I had started to try to explain to her -- I've got in a tangle of relationships with people who don't like, or don't approve of, or don't know how to deal with, each other, and there's no solution to it. Ron hates you and Draco, and you hate Remus, and you're not comfortable with Hermione, and Draco thinks she's beneath me, and you and Draco -- which you'd think would work -- you and Draco don't even approve of each other, and Hermione and Remus disapprove of him -- and maybe you, though they never say that."

Severus looked away. His voice came out very quiet. "Perhaps you should do what you think is right."

Harry stared. After a moment, he managed to find a logical objection. "And let you kill him?"

"I retract my threat."

"Too late. He won't talk to me now." Harry realized he was clutching his glass so tightly that the liquid in it was shaking in little waves. He took a quick swallow of the wine, then set the glass down. "He says it's not safe, but I also think he doesn't like me, anymore." Severus looked as if he might speak, but Harry cut him off. "Oh, he loves me, I know. But I'm starting to suspect that's not the same. That's all guilt and obligation and memory -- it's not me."

Severus looked at the fire. When he spoke, his voice was soft and distant.

"I suspect Remus likes you a good deal. However, I don't think you will be safe, because of this. I was not, and -- quite apart from being his paramour -- he did like me."

"He can't do anything to me unless it's the full moon."

"Not true. He could subject you to any number of potions, devices, or even hexes that would summon you back at that time."

"So you don't want me to visit him."

Severus gritted his teeth. "I do not." He took a deep breath in, then let it out in a rush. "However, it should be your decision."

"What!"

"I will not harm either of you."

Harry buried his face in his hands. "Please don't do this to me. I don't have any idea what you want...." He shrugged and lifted his head. "It doesn't matter. He won't."

"Because of me?"

Harry hesitated. For a brief moment, he considered relaying the gist of Remus's warning, but he decided that would not be safe for Remus. "I don't think so," he said.

Severus nodded slightly and sat back. Harry took a sip of his wine and tried to consider the taste. It was different, clearly, from the ones he had tried previously, but he didn't think he could describe how. He wondered if he could distract Severus by asking. Before he could phrase the question, Severus shifted.

"I spoke to Hermione."

Harry narrowly avoided spitting out a second mouthful of wine. He got it down, but spent a while coughing.

"I had not realized it was that incredible."

"Sorry! Just ... startled."

"I told her I had not managed to speak to you, and I wished to know what happened."

"Oh." Harry winced. "What did she say?"

"She implied you brought up the matter of her ancestry; she said that you were not insulting, per se, but she was frightened and offended that it would matter to you. Also, that she had realized that it had to matter to you, if it mattered to me, and Draco, and ... Fudge."

"Oh." Harry was frightened by the distaste with which Severus spoke Fudge's name. The association was obviously a matter of some offense. "Well, it's really superficial that it matters to Fudge. I mean, I don't care about his opinion; I'm just trying to manipulate him."

"I had noticed that. And me?"

Harry looked down at the dark stone floor. "You matter."

"I had said she was acceptable."

"Yes, but ... you're not comfortable with it." Harry looked up. "I wasn't trying to drive her off, I was just trying to explain that it was complicated. And to make it clear that I'm not comfortable in the Muggle world -- being raised there the way I was isn't enough for that."

"Oh." Curiosity seemed to be the way to cut Severus's mood. He tilted his head slightly to study Harry. "Which world do you like better?"

"Oh, the wizarding one, definitely."

"But you keep ... ties. You like Muggle things."

Harry thought about the time he had taken Ron and Hermione into Muggle London. It had been fine for Hermione, of course. At the first street crossing, however, Harry had looked over and seen Ron's face -- so pale that all the freckles stood out, and his eyes wide and darting nervously back and forth. Harry had pretended not to notice, but had shifted reassuringly closer. At the same time, he had looked at it anew: crowded, narrow sidewalks, with cars rumbling past on one side, and on the other stone buildings packed one against the next, all at least three stories tall, with some as tall as Hogwarts in the distance. He had listened to the engines, the voices, the horns, and the snatches of music seeping out of doorways. Lastly, he had breathed in the air -- it smelled of car exhaust and damp stone saturated with centuries of soot and ground-in detritus. Now and then they passed through pockets of other odors -- cigarette smoke, perfumes, and various foods: yeast and caramelized sugar from the bakeries, meat and oil and ginger from the Chinese restaurants, and coriander and cumin from the Indian ones, all mixed with other, subtler scents.

Back at Diagon Alley, he paid attention to the same details -- the mix of voices and running feet, of hooting owls and meowing cats, of wooden things that moved and creaked. He could not smell the cars, here, but the sharp scent of wood smoke and the musk of animals took its place. The damp stone here, also, smelled of centuries of the things soaked into it, as well as of itself, but different substances had permeated the wizarding street. It was not as purely rock and must as the Hogwarts dungeons, but still less acrid than Muggle London. There were pockets here, too -- the pub, the apothecary -- with their own blend of diverse scents.

"Well?"

"What? Oh." Harry had no idea how to explain the appeal of walking confidently by the roaring cars with a wand in his pocket. "I like being able to wander on the edge, I think."

Severus snorted. "And we know who dances on the cliff top."

"It's not a cliff, though. More like a little brook. But I can jump over, for cigarettes and anonymity, and blend in for a few hours, then come back where I'm ... well, not safe, but at least only in danger from my enemies, and with a good life, really." Harry pulled his shoulders in. "The bad part is not belonging on either side."

"You belong here."

Harry shrugged, dismissing his father's fierce declaration. "Not really."

"You do. Anyone can tell that, as soon as you mount a broom. Each time you lift your wand in a fight...." Severus closed his eyes a moment. "I can tell when you are brewing, sometimes -- you concentrate on the perfect moment...."

"And you want it to be true."

"If you want it to be, it is." Severus shook his head. "How can you not feel that you belong here?"

"I don't understand it."

"Of course you don't! You're sixteen! Do you think you're the only sixth-year who doesn't understand social nuance?"

"Draco --"

"Draco was raised to politics, and he's still confused!"

Harry shrugged again, though the words were reassuring. "Still, I think I'm a bit more lost than wizard-born --"

"You are wizard born."

"But --"

"Your father is a wizard; your mother was a witch. That is all "wizard-born" means. You are wizard-born, however you were raised."

"All right. Well, wizard-raised, then --"

The evening went on, never quite comfortable, but steadily less tense. When Harry started yawning every few sentences, Severus stood up.

"It's late. Drink a glass of water and go back to Gryffindor."

Harry stumbled to his feet, yawning again. "Water?"

"So the wine doesn't give you a headache." Severus gingerly took Harry's shoulders and turned him around. Harry found this unaccountably funny, and decided it must be quite late. He felt a gentle push on his back.

"Go on, now, or you'll sleep right through Hogsmeade."