Snakes and Lions Extended Ending

A week later, just before the end of term, Harry, Hermione, and Ron walked down to breakfast to find the Great Hall in an uproar. House points had changed. Gryffindor was one hundred points up, and Slytherin ten points down, changing the house order from Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, to Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Hufflepuff. Even the Gryffindors looked confused, and the Slytherins were livid.

"Yes! " Ron punched the air with his fist, but Harry frowned.

"It doesn't make any sense."

Hermione hesitated, but then shrugged. "Sit down, you two. If someone's earned that many points, there'll be an announcement."

However, there wasn't. Possibly that was because Professor Dumbledore was absent; Harry suspected that many points had to come from him. Professor McGonagall might know; he could ask her after Transfiguration. Shouldn't she know if Gryffindors had done something that impressive? It was Wednesday, though, so that lesson was in the morning, but not until after Potions. He left breakfast early, feeling a bit unsettled, and headed down to the dungeons.

Early as he was, he hadn't even finished unpacking his supplies when Draco, with uncharacteristic lack of grace, landed on the bench next to him. "Spill."

"What?"

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Harry exclaimed indignantly. "I have no more idea than you do!"

"Blaise said it was you."

"'Blaise' is making it up!"

"That will be quite enough, Mr Potter," Snape said irritably as he swept past them toward the front of the room. "Five points from Gryffindor."

"But--" Harry began reflexively. Snape whirled and glared, and Harry suddenly felt more at home with the situation. "It's not fair!" he protested, with a challenging look. Snape's mouth twitched.

"And five more for impudence."

Harry spent the lesson wishing he knew what had prompted the rise in points. If he were certain it was undeserved -- which it definitely was if Blaise was right -- he would have lost as many points to Snape as he could. However, he rather felt that he would have been told if the points were for something he did. If someone in another year had done something spectacular, he didn't want to take away from their accomplishment. He kept his head down, and at the end of the lesson, made his way up to speak to Snape.

"Professor?"

Snape looked nearly as hostile as he had before their private sessions. "What is it, Potter? I've better things to do than stroke the inflated egos of irresponsible brats."

"I was just wondering if you knew how Gryffindor had got all those points, sir. None of us know of anything." He motioned back to where the class had been. Snape's mouth twisted like he had bit into a quince.

"It was my understanding that the headmaster had awarded them to you, Potter. Heaven forefend that Gryffindor should lose the house cup when you have been so impressive."

"Impressive at everything I shouldn't! You've got to be wrong. He wouldn't. Not after Bellatrix!"

"No, Mr Potter? You're not still under the delusion that he is fair, are you?"

"More fair than that!" Harry protested. More fair than you, he wanted to say, but he bit it back. "I'll ask Professor McGonagall, then."

"Please do. Now get OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

Talking to Professor McGonagall was less hazardous. She smiled at him when he stayed after the lesson.

"Professor? Do you know how Gryffindor came by all those points?"

"For your defeat of Bellatrix, I expect."

"But--" I used Dark Arts. And Draco was with me. "That was months ago!"

She peered over her glasses at him. "I'm not certain, of course, but I did mention the incident when we were reviewing the year, and he remarked that he had never awarded point for the matter, with all the worry of the next few days."

Which included finding out that I'd been studying the Imperius Curse with Snape. Of course, he may want to get back at Snape more than punish me.

"I don't deserve it."

"I'm afraid you'll have to take the matter up with Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Potter. I cannot even say with complete confidence that the points were for you."

When Harry asked at lunch, though, up and down the table, no one in Gryffindor knew of any other reason. Dumbledore had not been at his office and was not at the head table. Harry settled with Ron and Hermione and Seamus and Neville, and he fumed.

"I don't see why you're going on about it," Ron complained. "You can't want Slytherin to win the house cup."

"I can if they deserve it! You know what I did, and anyway, Draco was with me!"

"But he wouldn't have done anything if you didn't."

"That's not--"

"I think he was just afraid to stay with us without a protector."

"Ron!" Hermione protested.

"Ah, well, he has a point there," Seamus said with a wink.

Harry looked across the room at the Slytherin table where Draco appeared to be getting as much disapproval, probably for even less reason. He pushed his plate away. "See you later."

"I don't believe you!" Ron fumed. "You're going to side with your little snake boyfriend against your own!"

"That has nothing to do with it!"

"That's everything to do with it."

"It's wrong. Just WRONG!"

Harry stormed out of the room, trying to pretend that he didn't care that everyone was staring. He had his broom, and he had his cloak, and afternoon classes could be missed. After all, what could Binns and Hagrid do? Take points?

Harry decided he was drunk enough for it to show no matter what he did, so he attempted to walk in a straight line down the empty corridor. A group of students coming down the stairs -- probably from a lesson that had ended early -- halted and fell silent. He felt stupidly proud when he made it past them and all the way to the office door without stumbling.

From behind him, he heard some sort of hissed words and someone leaving at a run. He didn't look back, just hammered on the heavy door.

It opened sooner than he expected, and rather than just McGonagall, he found himself facing both McGonagall and Dumbledore. He stumbled back. That didn't change what he wanted to say, he realized. He had wanted to talk to Dumbledore, and it wasn't as if he'd be in less trouble in front of the headmaster.

"Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall took one look at him and drew herself up like an angry cat. That worked, anyway.

"Won't have anything to do w'it," he said defiantly. That hadn't come out quite as he had prepared. He thought he might have missed a line.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor!" McGonagall snapped, advancing on him. "Explain yourself."

Harry leaned his head back and grinned. "Y'can do better'n THAT," he taunted.

His voice was suddenly extremely loud, although he knew he hadn't changed it, and his tone was the same. He looked around for a reason, and saw the group of students still loitering at the bottom of the stairs. Blaise Zabini, among them, was just tucking his wand away. Harry gave him a nod, the motion unbalancing him as he turned back to McGonagall.

"Would you prefer more?" she said icily. "You'll cost us the House Cup, if you don't mend your manners quickly."

"GOOD. 'S'A FARCE," he said, his unsteady voice echoing down the corridor. "POINTS FOR OFFING --"

Professor McGonagall pointed her wand at him. "Fi Sobrium!"

The spell wasn't as bad the second time, especially as he had been expecting someone to cast it, but it still made Harry stagger. "FUCK."

Blaise's spell was still in effect. The crowd at the stairs sniggered.

"Mr. Potter. Twenty points from Gryffindor for language, in addition to the thirty for public drunkenness."

Harry straightened. "YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT," he said again, clearly and loudly, this time. "THIS ISN'T FAIR. I REFUSE TO HAVE ANY PART IN IT. SLYTHERIN DESERVES THE HOUSE CUP, AND GRYFFINDOR WILL NOT HAVE IT, NOT IF I HAVE A DAMN THING TO SAY ABOUT IT."

"Harry--" Dumbledore said gently. Harry glared at him.

"WHEN THE MINISTRY ASKED WHO KILLED LESTRANGE, DRACO DID IT," Harry said grimly. "NOW THAT IT'S POINTS -- points for a KILL -- IT WAS ME." McGonagall had undone the Sonorus, and Blaise -- or someone else -- redone it. "GRYFFINDOR GOT A HUNdred points for THAt; slytherin got none. But--" When his voice didn't grow loud again, he glanced back toward Blaise, only to see Snape approaching, his robes billowing behind him, and a touch of amusement to his sneer.

"Pray continue, Mr. Potter."

Harry took a deep breath. "It would have been his fault if there was trouble." He stood looking at them -- the three professors, so different -- and felt suddenly uneasy.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "A reasonable objection, Mr Potter," he said, "however unreasonably made."

"I did try to find you, earlier. Three times. You weren't around."

"I see." Dumbledore regarded him curiously. "So you attempted to lose a hundred points single-handedly?"

Harry shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. "More or less," he admitted. "Considering how she reacted last time...."

"Would you rather that I retract my hundred points, or award a similar number to Draco?"

Harry tried not to look at the head of his house, or at the head of Draco's. "Retract," he said firmly. "No one should get points for killing someone."

"I had intended them more for your bravery in confronting a dangerous enemy."

Harry glared at him. "Draco should get more, then. I jump out my window for fun; I'd never got him to do it."

Snape coughed, and McGonagall's mouth twitched in a conflict of amusement and horror.

"Fifty to Gryffindor and sixty to Slytherin, then?"

Harry calculated quickly. He thought that would put Slytherin five points ahead of Gryffindor -- well, before the fifty he'd just lost. "Yeah. I can accept that."

"Very well." Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. "You might retract the twenty, I think. He meant well, and you could consider that an involuntary response."

"Leaving Gryffindor ahead?" Snape asked sharply.

"No, thirty-five behind," Harry explained. "She took fifty points from me, and that still leaves the thirty for drunkenness."

"Again?"

"Yeah, but it was intentional this time." Harry took a step backwards. "Um ... may I go?"

McGonagall frowned at him. "Please do, Mr. Potter."

Harry walked back down the corridor. The crowd of kids -- larger now, he thought -- was still in the stairway, but now a few steps up to be out of sight of the teachers. They were all Slytherins. Draco, among them, raised an eyebrow at Harry as he drew near.

"I am not impressed."

"Good thing I didn't do it for you, then," Harry said hotly. He looked at Zabini. "Thanks for the charm."

"You're welcome," Zabini said politely. "What was the result?"

"He split the points for fighting Bellatrix between me and Draco, and McGonagall docked me thirty. Slytherin is back in the lead."

"Well, I should be thanking you, then." Zabini grinned. "A bloody waste of whatever you drank, though. Shall I send you some firewhiskey?"

Harry laughed. "Cognac, and that would be great. My Muggle relatives don't let me out of the house, much." He looked back at Draco, who was scowling. "Lighten up! You'll get your bloody House Cup -- enjoy it!" He pushed his hand through his hair and then pulled his fringe forward again. "Gryffindor is going to kill me."

"None of them saw," Zabini assured him.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Please. No one else in Gryffindor can lose that many points in between lunch and dinner." He stepped forward. "Do be careful where you walk, Harry."

Draco's displeasure suddenly made more sense. Harry nodded. "Um, yeah. I'll do that."

Indeed, when the school sat down to dinner and saw the changed counters, heads turned towards Harry from all houses, and those from Gryffindor frowned more than the others. He suspected that enough people had heard him ranting that his house suspected the loss had been intentional. Harry shrugged and slipped onto the bench beside Hermione. "Sorry I'm late."

Ron leaned across her to glare at Harry. "What did you do?"

"Told Professor Dumbledore that I didn't think anyone should get points for killing people."

"You said he wasn't around!"

"Okay. First I went to McGonagall's office -- drunk."

"Harry!" Hermione squeaked.

"Oh, brilliant move!" Ron said sarcastically. "How many points did that lose?"

"Only thirty, but Dumbledore was there, and we talked." Harry tried to ignore the people who were turning their heads to listen. "And he agreed to split the hundred between me and Draco, since we both fought her, so Slytherin got half."

"So you lost eighty points for Gryffindor."

"Fifty of which we never should have had!"

"You fucking traitor!"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed

"Hermione, are you listening to him?"

"Yes, and I think he's right." She looked quickly at Harry. "About the fifty, anyway. If Gryffindor is to get points for that, Slytherin should as well."

"We could have won the House Cup!"

"But we shouldn't have!" Harry exclaimed. "We were dead last a week ago, and that was fair. This wasn't fair!"

"Malfoy's really got you wrapped around his finger, doesn't he?"

"Malfoy," Harry said nastily, "doesn't even approve."

"Don't believe that."

"It's true." Harry shrugged tightly. "Mostly because he's afraid my house will kill me," he admitted.

"Might at that."

"RON!"

Hermione, glaring, turned on Ron. Parvati, who had been several seats down, stood up, plate in hand, and moved down to sit next to Harry on the other side. Colin let her push in. "You were right," she said to Harry, "completely right, and they will figure it out."

"I don't approve of the drinking," Hermione interjected.

Harry shrugged, his face heating. "It was the best plan I could think of in an afternoon." He looked earnestly at Hermione, trying to ignore Ron on the other side of her. "Sorry. I just needed something that would make her angry."

He might actually have been killed, Harry thought, if it hadn't been for the earlier attack. As it was, a number of people saw this as his retaliation, and quite a few thought he had the right to it. Some told him so, with rolled eyes, and hindsight advice on better ways he might have handled the matter. Others walked past him with stony glares that reminded him of fourth year. Dean, oddly, wasn't one of them. The next afternoon, when Harry was studying in the library to stay away from Ron, and Colin, and the Gryffindor Common Room in general, Dean came and sat next to Harry. Harry tried not to feel alarmed as he looked over in question, but his hand inched toward his wand.

"I ..." Dean cleared his throat. "Look, I wanted to say... I'm sorry. It -- I think the thing with Draco is really, well, gross-weird, but it was just -- the group of us had been talking, and revving each other up, and I hadn't meant it to go that far, and I don't know why I went along with it. We all just...." He trailed off, looking almost panicky.

Harry smiled. He was so pleased that he felt Susara stirring with curiosity, and drew his shirt cuff tight against the table to signal her to stay inside. "Thanks," he said. "For saying that, I mean. I didn't think you ever would."

"Do you actually fancy him?" Dean blurted out.

"Yeah." Harry shrugged. "Can't say why I can fancy him just as much as I did Cho -- I just do."

"Is it really like that?"

"Well...." Harry considered, for a moment, how to explain. "Better, really, because we're friends, too."

Dean looked horrified. "You don't think of me like that, do you?"

Harry almost laughed. "No. Not you, or Ron, or Neville, or Seamus. Not Hermione or Parvati, either. I mean, it's a lot more than what sex someone is, right? You're not attracted to all girls, are you?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, there you go." Harry shrugged again. "I'm not attracted to everybody ... just a few of each."

With a shaky laugh, Dean stood. "All right," he said. "I'll try to ... well, ignore it, I guess."

"If that helps. And it wasn't because of you -- the House Cup, I mean. It was just because it was unfair."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know. Ron and Hermione have been having such a row that I have a pretty good idea how it came about. And I thought that if you can give that up because you ought to, I could come talk to you." He bit his lip. "Because I knew I ought to, I mean."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

Dean nodded tightly and walked off. Feeling loads better than he had in weeks, Harry turned back to his paper.

His pleasure was short-lived. Dinner was horrible. Ron sat nearby, but only to cause trouble. He took things that Harry was reaching for, spilled the pitcher pumpkin onto Harry's plate, and made rude comments. Harry eventually got up and stalked off. He had dinner in the kitchen and then a shower, and returned to his room late. He remembered just in time to check his bed for hexes, saving himself from something nasty -- he dispelled it before thinking to try an identification.

He woke up in one piece, feeling more or less normal. It wasn't until he was in the bathroom that he realized that someone had turned his hair a disturbing leprechaun green. He rolled his eyes and decided to not even bother trying to change it; if it had been Ron who cast it, he certainly had learned enough from the twins to build traps into trying to disrupt it. He made his usual token attempt to comb the mess, whose resemblance to new grass made it no more tractable, and then headed down to breakfast.

Breakfast promised to be much the same as dinner, improved only by sitting out of juice-spilling distance of Ron. Even people who weren't angry about him were sniggering about the hair. Harry concentrated on eating and tried not to blame them. He was sufficiently preoccupied by ignoring an insult from Ron that he didn't notice the routine chaos of the arrival of the morning post -- until, that is, a Howler was dropped in front of him, one corner landing in his eggs.

Nervously, Harry picked it up. The egg-damp corner began smoking slightly and gave off an unpleasant odor of sulphur. His name was in a hand that looked familiar, but which he couldn't place. Bracing himself, he opened it.

HARRY JAMES POTTER! I WOULD NEVER HAVE IMAGINED YOU CAPABLE OF SUCH IDIOTIC, LOUTISH BEHAVIOR! DRUNK AT MID-AFTERNOON? INSULTING YOUR PROFESSORS? DID YOU THINK I WOULDN'T HEAR ABOUT THIS?

Harry forced the shouted words to blend to a featureless roar as he got to his feet, struggling for a moment to make it over the bench. He couldn't help looking at Ron, but Ron looked as surprised as he did, and possibly as red.

"Harry..."

He pulled back from Hermione's touch. "It is NONE of HER business!" he shouted, and then swallowed. "Sorry," he ground out, not managing to sound as all as if he meant it, and he fled.

In his blind rage, Harry nearly let swing at the person who brushed against him in the hallway. It was only with the barest grip on his control that he managed to look before raising his fist. It was Draco.

"Good morning," Draco said smoothly, as if Harry had not just whirled murderously to face him. "Or, at least, I hope the rest of it is better."

"I'd say it would have to be, but it doesn't."

"No. It never does." Draco shrugged. "I have a morsel of news for you."

"Oh?"

"Mm. Snape is away. Until tomorrow."

For a moment, Harry didn't understand what Draco was waiting for. Suddenly, he got it. "Tomorrow?"

"Exactly. Do you think you could survive sneaking out, tonight?"

"Yeah." Harry laughed harshly. "It might be the only way I'll survive tonight."

"Excellent. The usual place, then." Draco smiled slightly. "Lovely hair, by the way."

"Thanks, but I can't claim credit." Harry suddenly felt a lot better. "I'll pass on your compliments."

Draco smirked. "Please do."

They walked together to Transfiguration. Both of them lost ten points for whispering during the lesson.

When Harry arrived in the Chamber of Secrets that evening, Draco was sitting on the harlequin plastic couch, looking as poised as if it was crafted of velvet and hand-carved walnut.

"There's butterbeer," he said, "and cream puffs. Terrible sorry I can't offer you anything more."

"Can't you?" Harry asked.

Draco tossed his head, making his bright hair flash in the torchlight. "Well, perhaps," he demurred, patting the seat beside him invitingly. "Did your day improve?"

Harry shrugged. "Yes, not that that's saying much. Ron stopped being actively awful, at least. He was embarrassed about the howler."

"Was it his fault?" Draco asked quizzically.

"It was his mother."

Draco looked taken aback. "I had been meaning to ask you if you knew the harridan, or if she was just a deranged fan. The Mother Weasley, then?"

"Right. Ron swears he didn't tell her, which means it was probably Professor Dumbledore who did."

"What! Hardly her affair, is it?"

"Hardly." Harry finally sat, but he was too agitated to touch. "I used to stay there at the end of each summer, but she's not family, as she's made quite clear."

"But she'll do that to you."

"I don't know what she's thinking! A year ago, yeah, I would have accepted that, but Ron's father died last summer, and she didn't want me staying there because of that, so I'm clearly not family. And last Christmas, Hermione was invited to the Burrow, because she's Ron's girlfriend...." Harry lost the ability to speak. He hadn't realized that it still hurt so much.

"Ah," said Draco. "I remember now."

His arm slid behind Harry and Harry forgot about not touching. He leaned into Draco, and suddenly they were kissing desperately.

"Summer's so soon," Draco whispered, a long time later.

"It only lasts for nine weeks. And there's the trial."

"Nine and a half. But yes. The thought of you there makes it bearable."

"I'll have my own room."

"Mmm."

It was long past midnight when Harry returned to his dormitory.

Two days later, Harry left on the Hogwarts Express. Draco stood on the platform and watched, expressionless, as the train pulled away.

"Cold fish, isn't he?" Ron commented.

"Shut it. You don't know how it feels."

Ron stalked off and didn't speak to him for the rest of the ride, even after Hermione hauled him into their compartment several hours later. Hermione and Ginny tried to pretend everything was normal. For the most part, Harry went along with that, while he watched Ron stare out the window.

At King's Cross, they wrestled their baggage down to the platform and looked around. Ron turned to Harry and met his eyes, and for a moment, Harry thought things would resolve, but then Ginny called "Mum!" and the moment was broken. With a glare at the approaching woman, Harry collected his trunk. He was gone before she got there.