Lily's Charm: The Gift

Harry didn't say a word the entire way to the Great Hall, and as soon as they reached the grand doorway, he turned sharply from where he was trailing slightly behind Remus and went to his table. He wasn't quite angry enough not to notice as he was greeted enthusiastically on his way to his seat, nor was he irritated enough not to smile in response. He slid in next to Ron when he reached the end of the Gryffindor table.

Though he didn't really want to care enough to watch as Remus went to the Head Table, Harry found himself turning slightly so he could follow Remus' progress. But Remus wasn't making his way to the Head Table as he should have been. Harry twisted around a bit further, back toward the doorway, but Remus wasn't there either.

He felt rather foolish for the worry that immediately pestered him since he had just taken great pains to be show Remus that he didn't care about their friendship. He took a quick survey of the room, but Remus wasn't in the room. Severus, however, was watching him intently as Harry's eyes roamed the hall, and Harry fervently hoped that he wouldn't catch on that something had passed between him and Remus.

"If you're looking for Ginny, she's in the library," Ron spoke up through a mouthful of crisps. Harry stopped his survey to turn back to Ron in surprise; he hadn't even noticed she wasn't at the table.

"She is? Why?" he asked with a slight frown. She hadn't said anything about needing to study this morning; in fact, she'd told him she would see him at lunch.

Ron shrugged though. "Hermione's with her. She caught us in the hall after we left Transfiguration," he explained. "She was looking for you, but I told her you had to stay after class because you'd mouthed off to Lupin, and she got all huffy and went off with Hermione. Girls," he concluded with another little shrug and a half-smile. He licked his fingertips and asked, "Lupin didn't assign a detention, did he?"

Harry's frown deepened as he shook his head, wondering what had happened to make Ginny 'huffy'. It couldn't have had anything to do with his exchange with Remus...

"I can't believe what a git he was to you," Seamus put in from across the table, and a tiny niggle worried Harry's gut at the accusation.

"He really was quite unreasonable," Lavender agreed with a sympathetic frown and it was only then that Harry noticed how close she was. He could feel her warm breath as she spoke. He turned abruptly back to Ron.

"Come with me to find Ginny, will you?" He nudged his friend in the ribs. Ron nodded as he stuffed another handful of greasy crisps in his mouth.

"Aw 'igh," he agreed, as he wiped his palms down his trousers, leaving two greasy trails. Harry still had his bag slung over his shoulder and he impatiently waited for Ron to gather his own bag and robes which he'd slung carelessly over the end of the bench. He had to force himself not to fidget, though he couldn't fathom why he felt such urgency.

When Ron finally had himself in order, he pivoted around to lead the way down the tight space between the tables.

--

Severus watched with narrowed eyes as Harry's departure with Weasley was halted three times. Each time, small pads, journals, and copies of The Prophet were thrust outward and with an overdone flourish, Harry signed his name. What had started out as an agitated exit, had swiftly become a sauntering turn around the room. Severus had no idea where Harry had been planning to go, but he had not missed Remus' drawn features, or his eyes, cast in shadows, as he'd escorted Harry into the Great Hall--late. And Remus had left, after gazing for a few seconds after Harry's erect spine as Harry had stalked to the Gryffindor table.

And Ginny and Ms. Granger were glaringly absent.

Severus watched for only a moment longer, frowning as Harry became more and more mesmerized with each new autograph request, completely forgetting that he had wanted to go somewhere. A flirtatious Hufflepuff fifth-year had his attention. Weasley was scowling as the girl whispered something into a flushed Harry's ear.

Severus stood up from his chair.

With a quiet word to Albus, Severus swept from the room. He reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom quickly, not bothering to knock as he thrust the wooden door open. Lupin was at his desk, staring at nothing in particular. He didn't even seem to notice Severus' entrance. Severus closed the door, firmly enough to bring attention to himself.

Lupin's eyes focused slowly. He smiled and Severus wanted to turn back around, away from the inexplicable sadness echoing in the other man's eyes.

"Severus," he greeted quietly. Severus stared at him, wondering why he had even come in here. Surely whatever was bothering Lupin could have nothing to do with Harry. The man looked dejected. Lupin tilted his head, as though in confusion. "Are you all right?" he asked. Severus pursed his lips briefly.

"I am," he answered. Remus nodded at him.

"Can I do something for you?" he asked, in that same falsely pleasant tone. Severus couldn't stop himself from scowling. The man was hiding something and so help him, if it had to do with Harry, he would--well, actually he didn't have any idea of what he would do to Lupin, as Harry would undoubtedly be less than pleased if Severus enacted any sort of normal revenge.

"Harry remained after class with you?" he inquired abruptly, and knew instantly that he'd inferred correctly as Lupin grimaced. "Why?" Severus demanded, feeling the tingle of dormant resentment as a look of discomfort passed over Lupin's features. Severus' jaw flexed; Lupin sighed.

"I needed to speak to him about his behavior in class," he explained as he passed a hand over his eyes. Severus stared at him in confusion.

"His behavior?" he repeated. Lupin nodded.

"His classmates were more interested in him, than in their work and when I asked them to return to their work, Harry argued with me over it. He assured me that Minerva did not expect his class to complete their work." Lupin elaborated, sounding much more tired than he should have been at noon, and Severus had a very difficult time not gaping at the other man.

He had to pull his lips together to stop himself from creating another undignified echo. Harry had argued with Remus? In a classroom full of students? Remus smiled in wry understanding; he scrubbed his fingers across the back of his neck and leaned back a little in his chair.

"He called me Remus," he said with a hint of dark amusement, and a slow shake of his head.

"I assume you corrected him."

Remus frowned again. "Yes, and then I threatened him with a detention," he said quietly, wincing a little.

Severus eyebrows slid under his hair. And again, an echo wanted to erupt from Severus' lips. Severus was certain that Remus had never assigned a detention to a student. And now he understood his son's erect posture in the Great Hall.

"Harry did not take it well?" Severus queried, prodding the other man to continue.

"He insisted on calling me Professor and sir," Remus told him, but then he shrugged as though the entire incident had left him unconcerned.

And Severus suddenly understood Remus' darkened tone as well; he was hurt. Severus narrowed his eyes and assured Remus tersely, "I will speak to Harry."

Remus shook his head. "There's no need, Severus. Harry-"

"I will not allow Harry to treat one of his professors with such disrespect," Severus interrupted. Clearly his son needed an attitude adjustment.

And he would get one.

An emotion that almost looked like regret, flashed across Remus' face. He nodded though. "Thank you, Severus," he replied formally.

Severus paused only long enough to dip his head in acknowledgment before pivoting on his heel. He made it to the door before he turned again, but his question dissipated half-formed on his tongue. Lupin's shoulders were hunched up around his ears, his forehead leaning into the heels of his palms. The posture was filled with rejection--and sorrow.

Severus spun swiftly around again, motivated by the dull stab somewhere in the vicinity of his rib cage, and he left as silently as he had entered.

--

Harry felt a slow flush creeping up his neck as Elizabeth leaned in very close; her fingers were brushing lightly against his bare arm. Her breath was tickling his neck.

"Didn't you want to find Ginny?" Ron interjected loudly. He was scowling, his sparsely freckled nose wrinkled in annoyance.

Harry nodded jerkily and before he had a chance to move himself away from Elisabeth, Ron was yanking him by his wrist, away from the brunette girl.

"Ruddy hell, Ron," Harry objected and Ron, with a something that sounded like a growl, let him go. Harry rubbed his wrist quickly, hurrying to keep up with Ron as he stalked out of the Great Hall. As soon as they'd rounded the corner, a group of first year Slytherins halted them.

"Oh, can't you just let him alone?" Ron demanded in exasperation as little Felicity tugged on Harry's sleeve, halting their progress toward the library. The tiny first year started at Ron's tone, but then she lifted her chin defiantly.

"Harry doesn't mind. We're friends, aren't we Harry?" she asked in an equally defiant voice. Ron rolled his eyes but Harry nodded his head solemnly, noting with a grin that Felicity's friends were staring up at him in awe.

"What can I do for you, Felicity?" he asked.

Felicity, after a scowl in Ron's direction, smiled at Harry. "Is it true that Draco's daddy was really on your side?" she asked excitedly. "We heard Draco tell Blaise and Pansy all about it," she rushed on, giving Harry no chance to answer. Harry wasn't exactly sure how to answer anyway.

"Mr. Malfoy helped protect us," Harry told the little girl, hoping that would suffice. Felicity and her friends began nudging one another in excitement.

"Draco said you were very brave," a boy with curly blond hair spoke up shyly; Ron made a gagging noise beside Harry.

"Malfoy didn't say that," Ron told the first year with a frown. The boy scowled up him.

"He did so," he argued hotly. "He said Harry has been doing brave deeds for years--all on his own."

"You've known Harry since he came here, haven't you?" Felicity asked Ron, whose face was starting to resemble a tomato. "It must be a treat, knowing someone as wonderful as Harry," she said dreamily.

"Go to class. You're about to be late," Ron snapped in response, giving his prefect's badge a pointed tap as another of the boys started to protest. The boy frowned but did as he was told; the rest of the Slytherins trailed behind, with Felicity waving over her shoulder as she took up the rear.

"It's not time for class yet," Harry told his friend, wondering why Ron was so grumpy. "They weren't bothering me."

"Of course they weren't," Ron said sourly. "And anyway, you took so long with your fans that we don't have time to find Ginny and Hermione. And we have Potions," Ron reminded him, but Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, Potions," Harry repeated with a shrug. "My dad won't say anything," he assured Ron as he gestured him to continue on to the library.

"Your dad," Ron retorted, "is still Snape."

--

"Five points each for tardiness, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Snape."

Harry's step faltered.

Mr. Snape?

And had his father just taken points?

There were a few snickers around the room as his new name was laid bare and Harry felt his face heating. Ron groaned quietly at Severus' pronouncement. Harry moved quickly to his seat before his father had a chance to say more. He heard at least one person whisper a scornful 'Snape' as he slid in next to Malfoy.

"Eyes forward," Severus rapped in his professor's voice, but both Malfoy and Harry were already staring straight ahead, Harry studying the day's instructions on the board just to avoid his father's eyes.

He'd taken points.

Severus picked up where he'd paused in his lecture, and Harry listened with half an ear as his father described the uses of a wizard's blood in potions-making. He silently tried to convince himself that it was only five points--no big deal. Severus had taken many, many more points than that, after all. Many more...

When Severus ordered the class to begin, Harry turned his eyes to his text. Malfoy had already begun slicing the Fanged Mushroom Caps, though Harry could clearly see his pale fingers wobble against the knife's handle. Harry and his father had gone over in excruciating detail how Harry should treat Draco, if he still wanted to help Lucius. After Severus had wasted no time in pointing out again that Draco hadn't upheld his part of the bargain to do as he was told.

"You are under no obligation to give them your assistance," his father had assured him, and for the first time since Harry had made the promise to Draco, he had considered rescinding his offer to help Lucius. Draco had betrayed them. Of course, he'd been threatened with slow torture and death, but Harry had been threatened with the same, hadn't he? And he hadn't been a coward.

But Draco really couldn't help being a coward, could he? And Harry wouldn't be a Gryffindor if he broke his word, even with just cause. With that less than compelling thought in mind, Harry asked, "Would you lend me your mortar and pestle?"

He didn't really need one, of course, as his was perfectly sound, but it was worth the look that crossed Draco's perfect face. And Harry realized with a silent chuckle that Malfoy had probably never been asked such a question before. But the blonde acquiesced, pausing in his chopping to hand Harry the requested items.

"Thanks."

Draco blinked and then a knowing gleam stole into his silver eyes.

Perceptive acceptance.

"You're welcome," he said graciously. His white teeth flashed in an easy smile. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Harry?"

Harry had no time to register Draco's question or his new mode of address as there was a sudden sputtering behind them, followed by a violent coughing fit. Draco and Harry both turned, though Harry much more quickly. Zabini was grasping the table, looking as though someone had poisoned him. Severus moved swiftly toward the choking boy and uttered a quick spell. Zabini drew in a clear breath, his eyes blinking in rapid bewilderment.

"Zabini?" Severus snapped. Zabini tore his eyes from Harry and Draco.

"I'm all right...sir..." he said quietly, sounding a mite hoarse, "...gum...caught in my throat."

Severus frowned at him. "Chewing gum is not allowed in my classroom...five points," he told him sourly. Zabini said nothing, nodding a little before turning quickly back to his cauldron.

Severus snapped his head around and gave Harry and Draco a narrowed-eyed look. Both boys turned around--Draco out of justifiable fear and Harry because he didn't want to lose points twice in one class. He hadn't done that in ages. He could feel his father's eyes boring into the back of his head though and he quickly buried the flame below his storm.

Just in case he was about to get reprimanded again.

"Would you rather I pounded the figs?"

Harry turned to face Draco, ignoring the quiet muttering from behind. "That's all right. I can do it," Harry told the other boy, and to emphasize his point, he began pounding the dried figs with a little too much force. Draco watched him. Feeling a bit like a solitary Grindylow in a too-large tank, Harry raised his eyebrows pointedly. Draco smiled in expectance, waiting to be asked a question perhaps. But Draco wasn't waiting after all.

"Have you been practicing? Your technique has certainly improved," the blonde boy told him, obviously intent on keeping the conversations going; the overt compliment set Harry's teeth on edge. He definitely preferred Draco the Git.

"Thank you," he said anyway, playing his part just as well as Draco. Feeling the need to outdo Malfoy, he added in a tone full of flattery, "I've learned loads simply watching you in class."

Harry allowed himself an almost-silent chuckle. The look on the other boy's face was priceless, but he recovered quickly.

"Your father is a Potions Master," Draco returned. "You must have inherited his talent."

There was a short yelp of pain, followed by the clatter of knife against stone behind them and even Harry was having a hard time not gagging at the sickly-sweetness in Draco's tone.

Enough.

Harry glanced up swiftly at the sharp command. His father really had much become much too proficient with that little talent, he thought resentfully. Severus' face gave nothing away to the other students. Harry, however, was well aware what his father's eyes were telling him--they were pools of black.

He wasn't feeling quite reckless to test those pools. And so he gave Malfoy no more reason to continue the banter. Malfoy, having had no silent warning, continued to be so polite that Harry actually felt bile rise up in his throat at one point, but he simply smiled along. By the end of class, Malfoy looked much more relaxed than he had at the beginning.

He even seemed to smile genuinely when Severus awarded them full points for their joint potion. The smile faltered when Severus turned his back to the class, narrowing his eyes menacingly so that only Harry and Draco could see. Even Draco couldn't miss that particular warning; he wasted no time in gathering up his belongings and exiting the class with Zabini in record time.

Ron seemed to be moving much faster than usual as well. Harry only had time enough to scoop his things into his bag with one sweep of his hand before Ron and Hermione both got away. He hurried to follow them. He smiled when he reached them, but Ron's face was a stony mask.

"Harry."

Harry's smile vanished as he turned around; his father's lips were set in a grim line.

The look irritated him and without thinking, Harry had his eyebrows raised in insolent question. Severus' eyebrows lowered; the expression was very dark. "I would like a word with you," he said in a tone so smooth that it made Harry want to get as far away as possible; he recognized that tone all too well.

"Wait for me," he said to Ron and Hermione, hoping he didn't sound worried; he handed his bag to Ron. Ron took it without a word and turned toward the door. Harry met his father's gaze.

Severus gave Harry a bald look before holding out his hand and saying tersely, "Accio Harry's school bag." And then Harry watched in surprise as his bag flew through the air to come to a hovering stop in front of Severus. Severus plucked it from the air, paying no attention to Harry's look. He set it down pointedly on the front table.

"Harry will not be rejoining you," he told Ron and Hermione in a cool voice. Ron mumbled something that Harry couldn't make out, while Hermione ushered him out, so quickly that Harry didn't even have time to protest. Harry, suddenly feeling very warm, tugged at his school robes as his father gazed at him.

"I was going to go up to the tower before dinner."

Severus frowned at him. "You are not going to the tower. You are, however, going to apologize to Lupin, for your abominable behavior this morning," he returned evenly.

Harry frowned at that. "He didn't need to tell you about that. It wasn't a big deal."

"Would you have spoken to any of your other Professors in that manner?" Severus returned, his tone indicating perfectly well that he had better not. "Or called them by their given names?"

"They aren't my friends," Harry answered, wishing he didn't sound quite so defensive. Why should he need to explain this?

"Lupin is also your professor and your elder, and you are to treat him with the same respect as any other adult," Severus told him, his voice going hard.

But Remus wasn't simply another adult. Not anymore.

"He didn't need to snap at me," Harry said, mostly because he didn't want to give in on this point. Remus had been out of line...he had, Harry insisted silently, but even he could see he was trying too hard to convince himself.

"You were arguing with him, Harry--during a class," Severus said, sounding exasperated that Harry couldn't see the problem, though of course, Harry could see it. And yet he didn't want to let it go.

"He threatened me with detention!"

"He would have been perfectly justified in giving you a detention."

Harry glared at him.

"He's my friend," he objected, scowling as he remembered that his father had taken points, adding to his mounting feelings of injustice. Before Severus could reiterate that Remus was also his teacher, Harry added, "And he knows what I've done-"

"What have you done?" Severus interrupted; he was peering at Harry with penetrating eyes. Harry folded his arms across his chest.

"Voldemort," he stressed flippantly. His father's face was expressionless.

"And you believe that because you and I banished Voldemort, you are now entitled to special privileges?" he inquired, as though he really wanted to know. Well, saying it like that made him sound right daft, didn't it?

"Of course not." Harry squirmed away from the question.

"No?" his father echoed with one dark eyebrow lifted above the other. "You didn't tell Lupin that Minerva would understand if your class didn't complete their assigned work?"

Harry winced as his words were parroted back to him. They made him sound like a conceited child. He looked away from his father's black gaze. "We shouldn't have had class at all. Everyone wants to celebrate." It was the only argument he could come up with. His father didn't even bother to respond to it.

"You will apologize to Lupin."

Harry turned to face him again. His father's jaw was set. Harry sighed. "All right," he conceded, realizing there wouldn't be a way out of it. It didn't matter that he wouldn't mean it. Feeling considerably grumpier when Severus nodded in acceptance, Harry asked, half-mockingly, "Do you want me to apologize to you as well, for being late?"

"Yes," his father agreed, surprising Harry, "but not because you were late. You were attempting to take advantage of the fact that you are my son." He scowled, and Harry began running a slow finger along the edge of the table. "Just as you took liberties with Lupin because he is your friend."

Harry chewed the inside of his bottom lip as his father held his gaze. He wanted to talk to him about the five points he'd taken earlier, but he couldn't. That was a discussion he didn't want to have right now. Not ever actually.

"He embarrassed me," Harry finally said, not knowing what else to say to rebuff his father's statement, and the sting of Remus' earlier rebuke was still smarting. "He threatened to give me detention. He's never given anyone detention," he said peevishly, though the guilt was jockeying for position with the hurt now. He ignored it. "And you took points," he accused anyway, ignoring the slightly raised eyebrows at the change of subject.

"You were late. I would have taken points from any student-"

"I'm your son," Harry interrupted forcefully...almost too forcefully.

"You are also my student."

Harry felt his insides squirm.

Severus frowned.

"Harry," he said quietly, in his best gentle voice, "if there is anything that you wish to-"

"There's nothing wrong with me," Harry snapped, not allowing the statement to be completed.

Instead of scolding him for being disrespectful as Harry would have expected, his father said seriously, "You have been short-tempered with both Lupin and I. You have made very little time for your friends, who have been so important in your life, instead focusing on people who have been-"

"For once, no one has anything bad to say about me. And for the first time, my scar doesn't scare people," Harry interrupted with an agitated shake of his head. "I can't help it everybody wants to talk to me."

"You have never enjoyed your fame," Severus reminded him.

"Well, why shouldn't I enjoy it now?"

"I did not say that you are not entitled to enjoy the attention, but not to the detriment of your relationships with those who care about you. I am concerned about you, Harry," he added, stepping closer. The movement made Harry feel skittish; he quickly stepped away. His father stared at him, his eyes shining with surprise.

"There isn't anything to be concerned about," Harry told him, recovering quickly to feel the shadow of pain from Severus' flame. The flame was extinguished before Severus had a chance to acknowledge it. "I'll apologize to Remus, and I'll spend loads of time with my friends." Harry couldn't quite still the sarcasm as it flowed from his tongue, and again he waited for a reprimand. It didn't come.

Severus simply turned and went to his desk. "I have work to complete before we leave for the banguet. I will meet you in our quarters at six o'clock." There was a short pause as he sorted potions vial. "That will give you plenty of time to spend with your friends after you speak with Lupin. You may use the Floo so that you will not be alone in the corridors."

Harry stared at his father. His tone was more reserved than it had been in months, and he seemed to have forgotten that he'd just told Harry he would not be going to the tower. But Harry knew his father wouldn't have forgotten it.

"Yeah, all right," Harry said uneasily.

Severus nodded curtly, but said nothing else as he began shuffling through a stack of parchment, and Harry's shoulders sagged. He hefted his bag over his shoulder and sent himself through the Floo to Remus' classroom, his feelings of unease heightening.

Remus wasn't in his classroom, but there was a cluster of students passing by the open door. One of the chattering students spotted Harry alone in the classroom, and he was instantly surrounded by his exuberant peers, all of them clamoring for Harry's attention. They led him out into the corridor where they were met by even more excited students. Harry's spirits lifted considerably as he signed autographs and re-told the heroic tale of Voldemort's defeat to his rapt audience.

It wasn't until Flitwick, who was passing by on his way to the Great Hall, pointed out that it was time for dinner that Harry realized how much time has passed. He excused himself reluctantly, and since he was still alone, he asked Flitwick to escort him back to his quarters. Flitwick obliged, though he kept up a steady stream of chatter all the way. Harry thanked him and quickly entered the sitting room as soon as he had the door open.

He halted as soon as he stepped over the threshold. A tall blonde witch was standing in front of the fireplace. She was smiling at Harry's father as she adjusted her expensive-looking cobalt robes. Severus had turned toward the door as it opened. He nodded at Harry as Harry closed the door slowly behind him.

The blonde witch turned now as well, her mirthful smile training on Harry. Harry looked uncertainly between her and Severus.

"And you must be Harry." Her voice was multi-layered, and it sounded like there might have been laughter bubbling just beneath the surface. "Dawn Ridley. I'm Lucius Malfoy's advocate." She moved toward Harry and extended her hand. Her movements were almost uncoordinated, but there was a subtle grace about her that Harry immediately liked.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Ridley," Harry greeted, smiling easily at her. She laughed a deep throated chuckle.

"Dawn," she corrected. She glanced at Severus; her eyes brightened. "Your father and I have been discussing details of Lucius' service with You Know Who. I'd like to speak with you both before Lucius' trial, so that you can understand exactly what you'll be asked, Harry. Perhaps you'd consent to meet with me at my office in the Ministry on Sunday, Severus?" Dawn's head moved swiftly back and forth as she spoke to father and son alternately. Severus nodded; Dawn grinned. "I'll have my assistant owl the details," she promised.

"Your assistance is appreciated."

"There's no need to thank me," Dawn told him, her voice lowering with the serious words. "Lucius is very grateful for Harry's willingness to do this, as I'm sure both of you are aware." The mirth had disappeared from her voice, and Harry wondered briefly if being an advocate meant you had to sympathize with your client. Dawn's posture was fairly screaming sympathy for Lucius Malfoy, the way it was curled so closely to Severus; their bodies were almost touching.

"I am aware," Severus said stiffly. Dawn looked briefly confused by the change in Severus' tone, but the smile stretched her lips again and she was all happiness once more. She pulled away from Severus as he moved toward the fireplace and pulled down the delicate box of Floo powder.

"I will look forward to seeing both of you on Sunday...if I don't see you tonight." She pinched up a share of powder, and then waved merrily as the Floo took her away.

"Did you speak to Lupin?"

Harry turned away from the lowering flames at the quiet question. He shook his head, running quickly through a litany of excuses that he might offer his father, but before he could find a believable one, Severus was reminding him that they needed to leave in less than ten minutes.

"Right," Harry said, relieved by his father's strange streak of forgetfulness. He went to his room to get ready; he was almost able to ignore the odd twinges of guilt that were making their presence known in his gut.

Ten minutes later, both of them dressed smartly in black dress robes, Severus and Harry stepped over the boundary line of Bavister Simon's lavish estate. Harry's eyes widened as he took in the opulent house; he could see crystal chandeliers glittering with long tapered candles through the arched windows. He glanced at his father, but Severus seemed unfazed by the wealth in front of him, and Harry wondered for the first time just how he had lived as a child.

He fingered his tie as they walked up the manicured stone path. "How close are the Minister and this Simon bloke?" he asked when they'd almost reached the inlaid wooden door.

Severus turned so that they were facing one another; the door was only a few meters away. "Scrimgeour seeks the support of such wizards as Bavister Simon," he answered, not bothering to elaborate. Harry understood. He nodded.

"I'll be careful," he promised with a smile. His father didn't return the humor. He simply nodded and turned again to the door. Before Harry could prod his father to elicit some sort of amusement, the carved door swept open with a flourish.

"Mr. Harry Potter, sir," a tiny elf stuttered nervously. Harry started to correct the little servant, but then a tall wizard stepped around the door. He was dressed in elegant silks and he rather looked like an overeager bird. His yellow eyes were razors as he took in Harry and his father.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," he greeted with a smile; his beakish nose seemed to sharpen with the slight movement. He put out his fine-boned fingers. "Bavister Simon," he introduced himself. A plump witch appeared by his side. "And this is my wife, Acquador."

Harry accepted Simon's hand. "Pleased to meet you, sir. It's Snape though." Simon's lips thinned, but he nodded. His wife held out her stubby-fingered hand. Harry took it awkwardly, remembering seeing a Muggle lord greet a lady on the telly once that way. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am," he said. She smiled; it was much more genuine than her husband's.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry," she said warmly, and Harry was reminded of Mrs. Weasley. He smiled. Mrs. Simons's eyes twinkled as she turned to Severus. "And a pleasure to meet you as well, Professor Snape." She offered her hand to him as well. Severus accepted it, bowing slightly at the waist.

"The pleasure is mine," he returned formally, and then he straightened, releasing Mrs. Simon's hand. Harry's eyes flicked back to Simon; he was watching Severus with critical eyes. Harry immediately didn't like the man.

"Mulfy, their cloaks," Simon commanded the house-elf distractedly. Mulfy nearly tripped over himself to comply. Harry and Severus gave their cloaks to the elf; he disappeared beneath the heavy folds.

"Do come in. Everyone is anxious to see you," Mrs. Simon invited, her eyes sweeping to include both Harry and Severus. But no one, it seemed, was waiting to see Severus.

They were led by Simon and his wife through a great marbled hallway and into a vast ballroom; the Great Hall at Hogwarts would have easily fit inside. Harry goggled at the displays of wealth. The room was draped in gold and the men and women were decked out in extravagant finery.

Everyone in the room turned as one person as soon as Harry entered. And then he was quickly surrounded, though instead of the clustered shoving of his schoolmates, the witches and wizards glided toward him gracefully. And they spoke softly, waiting with poise while they took turns asking him questions.

Harry somehow knew they were moving in a large circle around the room and he was aware of his father by his side the entire time, but he lost track of everything else, including the names of the dozens of people who introduced themselves to him. He was surprised when Mulfy announced dinner--he hadn't realized so much time had passed.

"Harry, you're seated at my table," Simon was saying as he took Harry's elbow to guide him toward his seat. Harry made a tepid attempt to shake his arm free, feeling uncomfortable at the touch, but Simon paid no attention as he explained, "The Minister, as well as several of my closest associates have asked to sit with you. They have much to discuss with you."

"The Minister said my friends would be sitting with us," Harry said, jiggling his arm again.

"I believe Harry can find his way to the table, without your assistance," Severus broke in with his deep voice. Simon looked over to him in surprise; he'd obviously forgotten Severus was there. Simon dropped Harry's elbow instantly. With eyes narrowed, Severus addressed Simon again, "I have not seen any of Harry's friends, and as we have walked around the room twice, I can only assume they have been seated in a more comfortable location."

Harry's eyebrows dipped in consternation. He hadn't even noticed that he had yet to see his friends. He turned back to Simon for an answer.

"Rufus mentioned it, of course," their host, who was beginning to resemble a hawk now, told them without concern, "however, I did not believe they would feel comfortable at our table." He indicated the glittering room. "Those unaccustomed to the finer graces would be ill at ease with my associates and I."

He pointed a long finger to the farthest wall along the back of the room. The Weasleys, along with Neville and Hermione were seated around it, looking completely out of place. On either side of their table sat the Hogwarts' professors, all of them eyeing one another warily; Hagrid was noticeably absent. As were Remus...and Tonks.

Simon smiled thinly at Harry. "You wouldn't want your friends to be uncomfortable, would you, Harry?" Before Harry could say anything, the tall man shook his head. "Of course not," he answered himself.

"But-" Harry began to object, feeling a rising anger at Simon's presumption, but they had reached the table and Harry suddenly had to force his mouth not to flop open. Draco and his mother were standing behind two of the velvet-draped chairs; Scrimgeour was standing next to Mrs. Malfoy, though he didn't look particularly pleased by where he found himself.

"Ah, Narcissa," Simon said grandly. Mrs. Malfoy lowered her porcelain chin in greeting.

"Bavister, it was so kind of you to extend an invitation to us," she returned, and though Harry could see the lines of stress around her pale eyes, Simon didn't seem to notice. He bowed to Mrs. Malfoy and then nodded to Draco.

"It is my pleasure, Narcissa...Draco. It is a pity, however that Lucius will be unable to join us," he said smoothly, glancing overtly at Harry. Harry was having a hard time not staring at the man. "Pity that he has been detained, in spite of his role in securing He Who Must Not be Named's demise." He turned fully to Harry, his face awash in concern. "But of course, you are planning to rectify that oversight."

It didn't sound like a question.

"My son's plans regarding Lucius Malfoy are none of your concern," Severus broke in, moving a little so that he was standing slightly in front of Harry. Simon's golden eyes glittered as he studied Severus.

"The incarceration of an innocent man is the concern of all of us," he returned evenly.

Harry goggled at Simon. Simon simply smiled and gestured for Harry to take his seat--there was a gold-lettered place card above his plate. Cards for Bavister Simon and Narcissa Malfoy waited on either side.

"What about my dad?" Harry asked blankly, looking up at Simon. Simon smiled; perhaps vulture would be a better way to describe the man...

"I thought Professor Snape would be more comfortable with his colleagues."

Harry felt his father stiffen beside him.

"No," Harry said reflexively. He hadn't meant the word to be so sharp, but the group gathered around the table turned to him. He pressed the left half of his lips together. "I want him to sit with me," he said, softening his tone a bit.

Simon didn't even pause, though there was more than one distasteful brow raised at Harry's declaration. "Of course, Harry," Simon agreed. Harry nodded, feeling a bit worried over Remus now as well.

"And will Remus be sitting with us then? He's not at the other table."

Everyone was still waiting for Harry to seat himself, and a look of disgust smoothed very briefly over Simon's face. His wife's features became pinched as well. Harry noticed Dumbledore, for the first time, waiting patiently for Harry to sit; his blue eyes were full of sadness. Harry found it hard to look away.

"Professor Lupin sent his regrets earlier," Scrimgeour finally spoke up, looking uncomfortable.

"He did?" Harry asked in surprise and immediately his guilt flared almost overwhelmingly over what had happened this morning. He had offended Remus enough that he hadn't wanted to come...

He swallowed past the thickness in his throat as his eyes strayed to the far tables, secluded from the rest of the group.

--

The night finally ended, after dinner with more courses than Harry could actually eat. He gave up after the third, picking half-heartedly as each new plate was set in front of him. He darted continuous glances over at the back tables. The Weasleys were laughing, having more and more fun each time he looked. Except Ginny.

She was sitting quietly, smiling sometimes, though it always looked strained. And each time, he looked over, his stomach swooped. He had spent barely five minutes with her in the past few days, and he hadn't even noticed. And then there was Remus' empty chair...

The conversation at dinner had centered on Harry and for the first time in three days, he didn't want to talk about Voldemort; his friend's were taking up too much of his thoughts--and he even began squirming uncomfortably as the hour grew long. Not one person at the table, with the exception of Scrimgeour, seemed to have an occupation, and yet all of them were interested in learning what Harry's plans were when he completed Hogwarts. Three of them had offered him apprenticeships with close associates. They hadn't accepted his refusals.

And Draco and his mother had been the worst of all. Draco was still acting his part from Potions class and Mrs. Malfoy seemed eager to play along. Both of them listened with rapt attention to every word spoken by Harry, with Draco offering his exceptional pureblood perspective, as Simon had termed it, when any of the elder wizards spoke of opportunities which Harry might wish to pursue.

And Mrs. Malfoy had even patted Harry's hand in a maternal manner at one point when Draco was assuring him that he wouldn't be bored in the least if he chose to simply join the ranks of the elite of wizarding society. It only took a look from Severus for Mrs. Malfoy to peel her tapered fingers from Harry's skin. She looked rather pale during the remainder of dinner.

And Dumbledore simply watched all of it with concern.

As soon as the plates were replaced with delicate tea services and tiny puddings, Simon had introduced Scrimgeour to the quiet room, who had in turn invited Harry up to the raised dais at the front. Harry stood reluctantly throughout Scrimgeour's tedious speech, his eyes straying more constantly to his friends and professors in the back. He didn't really understand why none of them were smiling until he focused on the Minister's speech.

He was emphasizing Harry's feat in destroying Voldemort--single-handedly. And when Scrimgeour asked for a few words from him, Harry was so completely flustered by the looks of disapproval from Ron and Hermione--and Remus' heavy absence, that he could only mumble an incoherent string of syllables that seemed to be taken as a confirmation. An enthusiastic applause broke out and Scrimgeour smiled in delicious contentment as he was surrounded as well by pleased potential supporters.

"Wonderful speech, Harry," Simon congratulated him as he stood around his table later to say his farewells. Harry didn't know how to respond. Had he given a speech? "Perhaps you might consider a career in politics," Simon suggested with his bare-lipped smile. "An internship this summer at the Ministry of Magic would give you ample opportunities to observe Rufus' exemplary work."

Harry felt his father's stiffening frame beside him, as if he were worried that Harry might actually consider it, and that's when Harry finally realized that his dad had been almost completely silent the entire evening and even the flame had remained dormant against his storm.

It seemed it had been purposely dimmed.

Severus had answered questions directly asked of him--there had been very few. But he had been largely silent. And to Harry, the silence felt ominous.

"Thank you sir," Harry remembered to respond as Simon was watching him expectantly, his bird-eyes hungry.

"I will make time in my schedule for you as well," the tall wizard assured him. "You will be able to do anything you want to do...with the proper friends, Harry."

Harry felt a tall shiver slink down his back.

"Erm...I'll have to think about it, sir...thank you," he hemmed. Simon's sparse smile remained.

"You will have your seventeenth birthday in July. You have many decisions to make," he agreed. "I only hope," he continued with a pointed glance at Severus, "that you will not heed the advice of those who wish to undermine you."

Harry had no idea how to respond to that. He understood precisely what the Minister was implying, and it made him feel ill. Nobody that Harry trusted would ever hurt him. He told Simon as much. Simon smirked at him, but didn't attempt to argue.

"Rufus and I will be in touch," he promised. His attention was taken then by Lucius' advocate, Dawn. She smiled broadly at both Severus and Harry before she began speaking animatedly to Simon. She kept glancing at Harry as she spoke. Simon was smiling as they turned away.

"Severus, if you have a moment..."

Harry turned. Mrs. Malfoy was standing, her fingers clasped together in front of Severus. Draco stood by her side.

"The trial is set for Monday," Severus told her, not wasting a syllable. Mrs. Malfoy nodded hesitantly.

"Yes," she agreed. "Thank you for contacting Albus on my behalf." Her hands twitched against one another in anxious friction. She turned to Harry and Harry was startled to realize the poised woman looked like she was going to cry. "Lucius is very grateful, for your assistance," she said fervently. Harry stilled the shrug so that he was nodding.

"I'm only keeping my promise," he told her. Draco flinched, but he didn't lose his easy smile.

Mrs. Malfoy rushed over Draco's reaction, with a flap of her fingers to the room in general. "You have been most kind and whatever we can do to compensate you for-"

"You will not give Harry even one sickle," Severus cut her off. His eyes were flashing rapidly. "He will not accept gifts of any kind," he restated more clearly, his eyes raking over mother and child. Though Narcissa looked agitated, she didn't argue, but she didn't seem to know what else to offer.

"Lucius' advocate would like to meet with Harry before the trial begins," she said hesitantly. Severus nodded once, saying nothing. Apparently, he didn't feel the need to share with Narcissa that they'd already met the advocate. Harry figured he wasn't Slytherin enough to understand why.

--

Though the hall had cleared considerably, those lingering, stopped Harry as he and his father wound their way carefully through the maze of tables. Each time he paused to answer another question, the weight in his chest grew heavier. When they finally reached the shrouded tables, he wasn't sure his chest was still rising and falling with each new breath.

His friends were gone.

All except Fred and George, who smiled at him and offered their hearty congratulations. Bill was standing next to George. He smiled as well.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley greeted Harry and Severus with their customary smiles.

"It was past curfew and Professor McGonagall insisted that the other children go back to Hogwarts," Mrs. Weasley told them. "Ginny was rather upset." Harry frowned. But Mrs. Weasley's next words had him grinning again. She was addressing Severus, "Hermione told us that the other Gryffindors are having a little celebration tonight in honor of Harry. They asked if Harry could come."

Harry turned to his father. "You may attend if you wish," was the indifferent reply, but Harry didn't pay much attention to the tone, only the affirmative answer.

He was about to ask if they could return to Hogwarts, when Mrs. Weasley's arms swallowed him up in a hug. "We're so glad that you're safe now, Harry," she told him. He was almost certain she was crying. She held on to him for a few more minutes before finally allowing him to step away; he adjusted his glasses. Mr. Weasley shook his hand with smile, and clapped him on the back.

And then Mrs. Weasley was addressing Severus again, "You as well, of course, Severus. When Bill sent us the message that all of you were all right, well we..." She choked up again and finished the thought by dabbing at her eyes with a hanky.

"Your son was an asset during our time with Voldemort," Severus told them solemnly, dipping his head a little. Though all the Weasleys, save the twins, shuddered a little with the name, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley beamed at the praise. Bill was smiling as well. Severus, his features a bit stiffer than they had been a moment ago, turned to Harry and suggested they take their leave. Harry, eager now to see Ginny, bid goodnight to the Weasleys and the few remaining professors and followed his father out toward the front door.

Mulfy had their cloaks waiting for them, his little hands quivering with eagerness. Before they could leave, both Simon and Scrimgeour seemed to materialize at Harry's elbow. Offers were extended again for Harry to take part in an apprenticeship at the Ministry of Magic. Harry didn't know how to tell them that the idea held no interest for him without insulting them so he simply thanked them again. He could practically feel his father vibrating with irritation as the two men finally allowed them to leave.

Mulfy smiled widely as he closed the door softly behind them.

Severus adjusted his cloak as he walked silently down the stone path leading to the property's Apparation point.

"I'm not going to work as Scrimgeour's apprentice," Harry told him as they neared the spot beyond the wards. His father stopped just before they crossed the boundary. His lips were pinched white lines.

"In that case," he said tightly, "you should not have misled them."

Harry's eyebrows scrunched together; he pulled his cloak around himself to ward off the late night's chill. With a terse movement, his father spelled a Warming Charm over them.

"I didn't know how to tell them no...I didn't want to be rude," Harry explained as the warmth washed through him.

"Informing someone that you do not wish to serve as an apprentice is not rude," Severus disagreed with a sour frown. "Scrimgeour is likely dictating a missive to his assistant about your acceptance. I would not, in fact, be surprised if there is an article in The Prophet tomorrow about your new career," he finished; Harry disliked the unchecked sarcasm.

"I didn't say yes," he stressed, but his father seemed unconcerned with that little detail; his scowl intensified. "Are you still angry about what I said to Remus?" Harry asked abruptly. Half-concealed surprise flitted across his father's eyes.

"I was not angry that you were rude to Lupin," he denied.

He didn't elaborate on his feelings from that afternoon, so Harry asked, "Do you think Remus didn't come because of me?" He was surprised by how upset the thought made him, but his father was shaking his head solidly.

"Lupin would not be so vindictive. I suspect there is something else at bothering him," he said. Harry cocked his head, but before he could ask for an explanation, his father continued, "I will speak with him in the morning, and," he stressed, "I will expect you to apologize as soon as you have time tomorrow."

Harry nodded. Part of him almost wanted to apologize now. Especially if it would rid him of some of the guilt he was feeling. The guilt was almost as overwhelming as the darkness that he could feel on the edges of his consciousness. The darkness held at bay by his father's shields. It seemed to call to him...

"...stay in the tower," his father was saying and Harry tuned back in, scrambling to make sense of what his father was saying. He wanted him to stay in the tower tonight? But that couldn't have been what he had been saying. Why should his father want him to stay away? It wasn't so late that Harry couldn't come back down to their quarters after the celebration. Harry nodded before he meant to though and then a vial was in Severus' hand.

His Dream Suppressive.

"The entire vial," his father reminded him tonelessly, and Harry nodded again, the darkness fuller now.

The starless sweep of the sky was echoed in Severus' eyes. He pivoted away, over the boundary line and Harry followed silently.

When they reached the Apparition point, Severus hesitated and then beckoned Harry to come forward. Harry stepped close against his father's side. The arm around his shoulder was held stiffly in place and then Harry felt the whirling separation as he was turned inside out.

The walk to Gryffindor tower was made in heavy silence. Harry kept darting nervous glances toward his father, but Severus seemed determined not to look at him. As soon as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Severus snapped the password.

The Fat Lady obliged and Harry was staring at the portrait hole.

"I will see you at breakfast." His father's voice was cold through. Harry stiffened, the distance in his father's tone setting off several different alarms, most of them sounding suspiciously like a Potions Master that Harry had once known. His unease shifted quickly to irritation.

"Right," he snapped, not even looking at his father as he stepped through the entrance to his common room.

Something cold was shoved into his hands as the portrait closed sharply, and a great rousing cheer went up. Harry didn't have a chance to catch his breath as he was passed around the overcrowded room for congratulations. There were far too many people to fit comfortably in the room, especially as there seemed to be more than just Gryffindors enjoying the party.

"You know Professor Snape will kill you if he finds out you had that," Hermione finally pointed out as he came to a stop awhile later in front of Ron and Hermione with a second bottle in his hand, though Harry noticed she had her own bottle; she hadn't opened it yet.

"Where did you get this?" Harry asked Seamus, who was obviously in charge of the clinking single-serve bottles of firewhisky. It was better to ignore Hermione's observation--his father wouldn't find out and he wasn't even certain his father would care if he did find out somehow. He certainly didn't seem to give a damn that he was going to sleep in the tower.

Harry took another swallow, wincing as the firewhisky burned its way down his throat, leaving a tingling trail in its wake.

"Dobby," Seamus replied with a shameless grin. "All I had to say was that it was for a party in your honor and he gave us everything we asked for."

At that pronouncement, Hermione pursed her lips and placed her bottle back in the large tub full of dozens of unopened bottles. "That wasn't very nice, Seamus. You could get Dobby in trouble," she admonished, but Seamus only shrugged. Hermione glared first at Ron and then at Harry, obviously expecting them to give up their bottles as a show of support for elf rights, but Harry didn't. Once his tongue had been numbed by the first bottle, it tasted rather nice. Ron, after a long-suffering sigh, set his bottle next to Hermione's.

"Harry?" Hermione questioned pointedly. With a small smile, Harry took another sip.

"Where's Ginny?" he asked once he felt confident enough to speak again, and after Hermione had given him one more glare.

"She's over by the fireplace," Hermione told him, pointing toward the merrily blazing fire. And indeed, Ginny was curled up quietly in Harry's favorite chair, a few friends seated around her.

"You should talk to her," Hermione said, nudging Ron when he looked about to say something contrary. "You haven't had much time together since Voldemort died."

"...not that she hasn't tried..."

Harry turned sharply to his red-headed mate. "I've been busy," he defended himself automatically, his facial muscles readying for an argument. Ron made a face at him.

"Yes we know, Harry," he drawled sarcastically. "What with signing autographs and telling tales about how you single-handedly killed You Know Who."

Killed.

Harry flinched, but he shoved the guilt away to frown at his friend. "I didn't say that," he denied, trying to keep his voice low.

"But you didn't deny it when Scrimgeour said it, or when your little Slytherin friends said it," Ron retorted in a heated stage whisper.

"Why do you care, Ron?" Harry asked angrily. "Or are you simply jealous again?"

Ron's eyes narrowed; he leaned toward Harry with a furious glower. Hermione grabbed his arm before he could say anything. "Ron," she warned and there was only a brief hesitation before Ron pulled back again.

"You're becoming an even bigger wanker than Draco Malfoy," he said quietly, and then he turned away, ducking out the portrait hole. Hermione watched him go and then turned to face Harry.

"He was-"

Hermione interrupted him with a deep sigh and a shake of her bushy hair. "Go talk to Ginny," she ordered tiredly and without waiting to see if Harry would listen, she followed Ron. The portrait thudded behind her.

Harry watched them go, wavering between fury at Ron for insulting him and disgust at himself for actually being a bigger wanker than a Malfoy. He couldn't decide whether to go after Ron and attempt some sort of explanation or go find Ginny. Before he had a chance to make a decision, he felt a feathering touch up his arm. The touch lingered around his shoulder.

"Hi Harry."

Harry turned in surprise. Elizabeth was smiling at him. He didn't even have time to wonder why she sounded like she had a head cold, before she was leaning in toward him, whispering how she'd been waiting for him.

Her voice was low and husky as her lips brushed up against his ear. Harry jerked backward. And he found Ginny staring at him, her cheeks pink and her soft brown eyes almost dull with hurt. Harry's eyes widened in alarm. Elizabeth paid no attention to Harry's distraction; she leaned in toward him again.

Ginny turned, her lips twisted as she walked quickly away. Harry brushed Elizabeth's roving hands away and twisted sharply to keep Ginny's retreating back and twitching ginger hair in sight. Harry felt the insistent tugging of female fingers along his sleeve, but he ignored them as he hurried after Ginny. He skirted around another tipsy girl and an alcohol-brandishing trio who wanted Harry to join them in a song, finally catching up with Ginny as she was about to flee up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

"Gin?" he implored as he reached out to catch her elbow. She pulled it back, spinning slightly. And where Harry had expected to see tears, there was anger in the toffee eyes.

He took a step back.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Ginny asked, and Harry was surprised at the absence of heat from the question. But he hurried to explain anyway.

"I'm sorry about Elizabeth. I've been dodging her all day," he said quickly. Ginny glanced over his shoulder, possibly glaring at Elizabeth, but when she looked back, her brown eyes were full of concern.

"And that?" she asked quietly, pitching her light eyebrows toward the bottle in Harry's hand. Harry's eyes followed her pointed gaze. With a slight jostle, the remaining liquid was sloshing sloppily inside the glass container. Harry shrugged, not understanding her meaning.

"It's firewhisky."

Ginny pursed her lips. "I know what it is, Harry," she snapped. "Since when do you give in to peer pressure?"

Harry blinked at her. "It's just a drink, Ginny. What does it matter?" he asked, feeling exasperated. He'd only taken two swigs from this second one, anyway.

Ginny's arms folded across her chest and she gazed at him for a long, assessing minute before saying seriously, "It's not you. You're not like this."

"Like what?" he demanded. Ginny as well? Part of him wanted to scowl at her in bitter accusation, but with a little shake of her head, she was turning away again. With a bit of alarm, Harry touched her elbow again. She didn't shake him off this time. "Wait, Gin," he said quietly. She waited, but she didn't turn to face him. "Can we talk for a minute? Please?"

Ginny sighed. She turned around again. "Will you get rid of that bottle?" she asked, sounding perfectly stony and her ginger eyebrow was arched in a rather strange imitation of Severus. Harry nodded quickly, his alarm spiking at the thought of Ginny retreating up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. He set the bottle down on a table next to Ginny's leg. That's when he noticed that half the room was leering at him--and Ginny as well, their faces alight with interest. Ginny scowled.

"We'll go to your room," she decided as she spun toward the opposite staircase. Harry obediently followed. "And just for a minute," she said firmly. Harry nodded, his alarm abating. He caught up with her steps quickly and they went up the stairs together, all eyes in the room following their movements.

As soon as they entered, Ginny spun around again to face him. Harry backed up a step, unnerved by the ire in her eyes. "Do you like her?" she demanded, her pretty face screwed into a furious frown. Harry blinked at her, feeling dazed.

"Who?" he asked, bewildered, and having a hard time concentrating on anything but Ginny's perfume. She smelled lovely. And the room seemed very warm.

"Elizabeth, Harry. She had herself draped all over you," Ginny told him as she continued to glare. "She was kissing your ear."

Harry gaped at her. "She was not," he denied. Had she been kissing his ear? Ginny opened her mouth, but before she could continue, Harry shook his head. "Of course I don't like her, Gin."

"You let all girls touch you like that, then?" Ginny retorted; her hands had moved to her hips now.

"I didn't mean to let her"--he shook his head, trying to clear the confusion--"I mean...she keeps coming up to me...and whispering things to me. I'm sorry," he finished lamely, uncertain of what he was trying to say, exactly.

And Ginny suddenly didn't look so fearsome anymore. "Every girl in this school wants to be near you," she told him, looking oddly dejected. Harry didn't like it. He stepped closer to her, tentatively reaching down to clasp one of his hands in his. The fingers stayed limp, but at least she didn't pull away.

"I don't want her, or any other girl, to be near me. I love you...remember?" he asked, his voice teasing a little. Ginny looked up at him.

"People say funny things when they think it might be their last chance to say it." The slight waver in her voice told him she was trying very hard to be nonchalant. He smiled down at her.

"I didn't say it because I thought I was going to die," he said seriously, marveling a little at how true it was and at how wonderful he felt as he gazed down into her brown eyes. "I do love you, Gin," he assured her. "I'm sorry about Elizabeth." Ginny's fingers tightened around his hand.

"I'm worried about you," she admitted, her voice very soft as she gazed up at him. Harry shook his head.

"I'm all right. I just didn't realize that she-"

"That's not what I mean," Ginny cut him off. Harry tilted his head in confusion. "You've been acting oddly, Harry."

"I haven't. Why does everyone keep saying that?" he asked with a frown. "Is it really so unusual that I should be grateful that for once, everyone isn't acting as though I've gone mad, in some way or another?" he asked. Surprisingly, Ginny shook her head.

"Of course not, Harry. And no one wants to take this away from you. You should enjoy some of the attention, but Harry," she stressed, her eyes crinkling at the corners, "this isn't you."

"You said that already," he pointed out. "And I still have no idea what you mean. I'm simply trying-"

Ginny interrupted him again. "Mouthing off to Lupin? Refusing to call him anything but 'Professor' just to spite him," she asked. "That's you?"

Harry tried to interject, but Ginny plowed ahead. "You didn't even try to give any of the credit for what happened to your dad, Harry. You sat there and accepted every word Scrimgeour said, as if Severus had done nothing at all."

Harry's shoulders were beginning to sag. That hadn't even been his fault. "He said he didn't want-"

Ginny glared at up him. "You know perfectly well, Harry Snape, that you wouldn't even be here if it hadn't been for your father. And you didn't say a word. You acted as though you did it all alone. Without any help from anyone...not Lupin, not Dumbledore, not Bill," she scolded. "And even Ron and Hermione have noticed the way you've been so...so overly pleased with yourself."

Harry's face warmed; Ginny leaned in close to study his face, and like he never had before in Ginny's presence, he was uncomfortable with the scrutiny. "I wasn't thinking about it," he excused himself lamely, not having any way to explain why he'd been such a prat. He hadn't even realized he'd been acting oddly. "I just haven't been worried about anything...and I just...I thought I was happy..." He shook his head again, thoroughly confused now.

"Harry," Ginny said gently. She stepped toward him, bringing a hand up to rest against his chest; he leaned in to her touch. "Don't you think it's time you talked to someone about what happened. Your dad, or-"

But Harry shook his head in agitated denial. "I'm all right," he insisted to her, just like he'd told his father. "And anyway, we're going to see Pomfrey tomorrow."

Ginny nodded, and she was relaxing a little. Harry, still feeling the weight in his chest from how much he'd upset her, tentatively put his hands against Ginny's back. He smiled as she moved toward him. "I really am sorry, Gin," he apologized softly. "I'm sorry I've been so selfish and that I haven't made time for you...I've missed you," he told her. Ginny drew in a shaky breath and her voice was muffled as she leaned her cheek into his chest.

"I've never been as scared as I was when you were with Voldemort, and then when you came home so quickly, I was so relieved." Harry, his heart lurching, tugged Ginny closer; her body seemed to melt into his. "You've been acting so strangely," she told him quietly. "That scared me even more, I think."

His limbs felt icy with shame and remorse. He'd hurt everyone in the past two days. He would have a lot of apologies to make in the morning. But if Ginny was willing to forgive him, he knew Ron would as well. Making amends with Remus would likely be more difficult, and since he wasn't exactly sure what he'd done to upset his father...

"Harry?"

Harry shook himself. Ginny was staring up at him.

"Are you all right?" she asked quickly. "You looked just like you did in your quarters yesterday when we were playing Gobstones."

Harry remembered the cold, vacant feeling as though he'd been sucked into the void, but he felt nothing about it. It was an odd sensation. He thought he probably should feel a bit unsettled the darkness that was creeping toward him, but he shrugged it away though to focus again on Ginny, who was still gazing at him with concern.

"Do you want to go back to your quarters?" she was asking him and Harry almost laughed at the dismay in the question. He bent down to a brush a kiss against her soft cheek.

"No," he assured her in a low voice. And when he felt her moving closer so that her body was folded against his, he asked her softly, "And I don't want you to leave either."

Ginny's head came up, her brown eyes surprised. "Harry," she began, her voice full of hesitation but Harry just shook his head and leaned down again to brush another soft kiss across her lips. Her breath caught in her throat.

And he could picture exactly what she was thinking, and for the first time, the image of sharing something intimate with Ginny didn't make him uncomfortable. He only felt a surge of protective love. Not until you're ready, he promised her silently. "I just want to talk to you," he said and he felt her smile as he pulled his fingers through her long hair. "I really did miss you, Gin."

Pulling away with a swift movement, Harry grabbed Ginny's hand and brought her toward the bed. With a grin, Ginny hopped up, and without waiting to be reminded that they had shared their first kiss in this exact spot, she wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and kissed him.

And Harry forgot about everything else. He forgot that the rest of the world was looking for a hero, and he forgot that he'd angered all the people he cared about. All that mattered was Ginny.

Moving gently, Harry maneuvered them carefully so that they were lying together on the bed. Ginny didn't even hesitate, and then her body was pressed up against his. Harry's heart skittered as he felt her breasts giving way against his chest. His hands trailed lithely over her hips and under her shirt as they moved up her ribs.

Ginny tugged Harry's head down so that she could reach his lips more easily. His mouth parted as soon as her tongue prodded them. His hands continued on their upward trek, stopping only as his thumbs brushed the silky fabric of Ginny's bra. He didn't stray any higher, even though there seemed to be a roaring voice in his ears telling him to. He ignored it, focusing instead on Ginny's lips.

He moved his hands so they were against her back and drew her more fully against him. Ginny's hands had found his skin as well. They did their own tugging and Harry obliged, sweeping her legs to intertwine with his in one swift movement. Ginny shivered against him and Harry deepened the kiss as he allowed these new sensations to overwhelm him.

--

Ginny was jerked awake some time later by a horrible scream. Scrambling upward, she looked around in confusion, having no idea why she was still in Harry's bed. And then her breath caught in her chest as she saw Harry, bathed in sweat beside her, his eyes closed.

And he was screaming as though he was being tortured.

She took Harry's arm to shake him out of whatever nightmare he was caught in. "Harry," she coaxed as she tried to wake him up. But his eyes remained closed, his body contorting in increasing agony against the sheets. And no matter how hard she shook him, he wouldn't wake up.

The curtains around the bed were yanked back and Ron's face, stark white, shoved itself in. "Get Snape!" Ginny commanded breathlessly before he could even speak. Ron nodded jerkily, spinning around without saying a single word and racing toward the stairs.

"Harry!" Ginny tried again in a loud voice, shaking him roughly now with both hands around his biceps, but it didn't do any good.

And his screams were sending waves of terror down her spine.