Resonance

Chapter 23 - A Time to Reap

"Severus," Dumbledore's voice came from the back of his office.

"You asked to see me?" Snape said as he stepped in. He could see the robed headmaster through the graceful limbs of a delicately balanced metal model on the desk. He went around to where the headmaster sat by the tall windows. A wren alighted on the sill before being caught in the wind and flitting away.

A large diary sat in Dumbledore's lap and he held a white quill in his age-spotted hand. "This will be short, I know you have things to do," he said.

Snape locked his hands behind his back. "It is no matter, Albus."

"Harry was here a while ago," Dumbledore said slowly. "I wanted to tell you how very impressed I am with you. He seems very healed, especially given the rift currently separating him and Mr. Weasley."

Snape didn't reply, just stared out at the evening sky and the dark forest.

Dumbledore went on, "It eases my heart immeasurably to see his forgiveness. It still amazes me how calm and understanding humans become when their pain has been removed." He sighed. "Most of his anger was perfectly justified, of course. We expected far too much from him in some instances and far too little in the rest." With slow movements, he opened the wide cover of the diary and pulled out the chocolate frog card he was using as a page marker. "Look at him," Dumbledore said, holding it up for Snape. "The eyes of someone older even than myself." He took the card back and held it up before himself. "But the Harry who visited not an hour ago had the eyes of a seventeen-year-old, as he should. You are to be commended for that."

Snape still didn't respond, even after a long silence.

"I think you were the best choice, Severus. I expect you take nothing for granted, and I suspect neither does Mr. Potter. It makes for a good match."

After a minute Snape stood straight and spoke finally, "My mother accused me of looking for atonement, my father of attempting to protect myself from the Ministry. Harry laughed at both of them.” After a pause he added, "I earned his faith somehow--I do not know quite how."

"Harry is capable of fierce loyalty. Craves giving it, in fact. You earned it by being on his side when it mattered the most, and remaining there when you did not have to."

"He accuses me of understanding him too well."

"There is great power in that as well." Dumbledore tucked the card back away and sighed. "I was afraid we had sacrificed his future for our own, but I see that hasn't come to pass. Thank you, Severus," he said.

Snape bowed and, after a lengthy hesitation, departed.

* * *

Harry found himself calm around Ron now. He was generally polite to his friend and pretended the single syllable responses he received in return were sufficient. This seemed to ease the strain on Hermione a lot.

Ginny made a point of being extra nice when she was around, in fact, seemed to enjoy showing up her brother. "It's his choice," she would say when he was being difficult. Or, "He doesn't go around mocking dad, does he?"

After D.A. one evening, Harry trapped Ron after everyone else departed. Ron seemed surprised to find the two of them alone. "I just have to say a few things," Harry said.

"Yeah?" Ron retorted.

"For the first time in my life, I feel whole. Don't try to cheat me out of that."

Ron looked very taken aback. "I don't-"

"And don't make me choose between you and him. You aren't going to like my choice, as hard as it is to say that."

"I keep thinking you're under an Imperius curse. I even went and looked up how to tell."

"So, am I?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"No. Doesn't seem like it," Ron conceded. "It still makes me nauseous to talk about this." He really did look unwell.

"Then we won't. I don't need to." With that, Harry left him alone in the Room of Requirement.

* * *

"Mr. Potter, come with me, please," Professor McGonagall said the next Saturday morning as they sat studying in the Library. They were rushing to finish things before Quidditch practice.

Harry closed his books and left them with Hermione. McGonagall's expression reminded him of the one she’d had the night Ron and he flew the Ford Anglia to school. Musing about why he might be in trouble, Harry followed in silence up to the headmaster's office.

Pomfrey sat whispering with Sprout in the main part of the office. McGonagall led Harry past them into a side room. Harry stopped in the doorway of what was clearly a bedroom. Dumbledore lay upon the bed, clothed in a bright blue dressing gown, covers pulled up to his waist.

"Harry," he said with affection and patted the bed beside him. Harry, stunned and pained to find his headmaster bedridden, moved to his side. Dumbledore grasped Harry's arm above the elbow. "My dear boy," he said with emotion.

"How are you, sir?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "I have been better," he replied amiably. "And how are you?" he asked pointedly.

"Pretty good, sir," Harry admitted.

"Quidditch is going well, I assume?"

"Very good, sir." Harry then added in a burst of honesty, "Especially since Malfoy is too big to play Seeker, and he didn't make the team in any other position." McGonagall, standing by the door, rubbed her brow at that moment.

"Ah, not too much joy at another's expense, my boy."

"They'll have the last laugh, I think," Harry said. "If he didn't make at least Beater, they must be pretty good this year."

"It does all seem to even out in the end, Harry." Dumbledore lifted a gnarled hand and pushed his student's hair back, thumb brushing his distinct scar. "So good to be done with all that," the old wizard intoned. His intense blue eyes peered into Harry's. "So good," he repeated softly.

"Yes, sir."

Dumbledore put his hand behind Harry's head and pulled him forward against his chest. "I am so very proud of you," Dumbledore said. Harry gave in and rested his cheek and arm on the old wizard's broad chest in something of a hug.

"Minerva," Dumbledore said evenly. Harry would have sat up if a hand hadn't been holding his head down. Professor McGonagall's hem came into view as she stepped forward. "Take care of the school," Dumbledore intoned.

Harry took a sharp breath and held it. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself not to make a sound. If he made any sound, it would only be a scream of denial. He heard McGonagall say, "Of course, Albus," in a very unsteady voice. This only made it worse, forcing a tear out Harry’s eye. He held perfectly still. It seemed incredibly important to do so.

No one moved for long moments. Harry heard someone sniffle from the doorway. McGonagall went into motion then, stepping around the bed, taking Harry's shoulders and pulling him to his feet. Harry held his eyes closed, trying desperately for control. She held him loosely, letting his forehead rest on her shoulder.

"Pomona, get Severus, will you?" Her voice was back to normal. "Get everyone else for that matter."

Short minutes later, Snape stepped through the unusually open headmaster's office door. Sinistra, Flitwick, Vector and Pomfrey stood in the doorway to the bedroom. When he reached them, one glance at Dumbledore's peaceful visage told him everything. He shook his head. McGonagall gestured for him to come over to her side. Potter was clearly on the brink.

"The rest are on their way," Sprout said as she came in behind him.

Snape stepped around and turned the boy to him by the shoulders. Harry sniffled, eyes clenched shut. "Harry," Snape said. He glanced down at the old headmaster and put an arm around the boy. “Let's go into the other room."

As they stepped around the bed, Snape raised his gaze to the astounded ones of his colleagues. He shot them all a dark challenging one in return. They watched with wide eyes from the bedroom doorway as Snape led Harry to a spot before the headmaster's desk. Harry still had his forehead resting on Snape's shoulder. "Come now," he cajoled, "I don't think Albus wanted anyone to react like this, least of all you."

McGonagall stepped through the startled throng blocking the door, still paying little attention to the deceased. "Called him up here, in fact," she pointed out.

She and Snape's eyes locked a moment. "Quite an honor, Harry," Snape said. "Greatest wizard of our time wants you beside him-" He stopped and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. More evenly he asked McGonagall, "You have notified the Ministry?"

"Not yet." She sighed and stepped over to the hearth.

Snape patted Harry on the back lightly and waited for him to pull himself together. His brow furrowed as he saw a disconnected pair of shoes coming up the still escalator. A gasp sounded and two sheepish faces appeared above an invisibility cloak.

"So it's true then?" Hermione asked. Ron beside her looked like he deeply regretted his current location. His adam's apple bounced as he swallowed hard.

"Yes," Snape replied.

McGonagall returned to the front of the office, giving the two on the steps a very disapproving glance. "Fudge and his retinue are on their way, so if you don't want to be on the front page of the Prophet, I'd take him down."

Harry lifted his head and gave his friends a very pained look. Snape looked him over and steered him by the arm. "Come on, Harry, you are a front page image to die for at the moment. Let's get you out of harm's way." A sharp look got Ron and Hermione moving as well.

At the bottom of the escalator, Harry hesitated about following his friends. He looked from them to Snape with a beaten expression. Snape stepped back over and said, "It is up to you."

Harry gave Hermione a long look before turning and walking the other way. Ron choked in shock. Hermione had to give him a tug on the arm to make him follow her.

Halfway down the corridor, Harry said, "You don't mind?"

"Of course not."

In the Gryffindor tower Ron was still aghast. "Ron. Chill," Hermione insisted.

"I can't believe it," he said through clenched teeth.

"Did you find out what's going on?" someone asked.

"Dumbledore died," Hermione said quietly.

General exclamations of denial and unhappiness went around. Students were called out of the dormitories and told as well. The common room became crowded.

"Ron's taking it pretty hard," Dean commented.

"That isn't what's bothering him," Hermione said with a disgusted shake of her head.

"What is?" Dean asked.

"Harry," Ron seethed, "went off with his dad rather than coming to the tower."

"What?" several people chorused.

"Too embarrassed to tell anyone," Ron said mockingly to Hermione.

Ginny stepped out of the crowd and said, incensed, "Ron, you can be so miserable!"

"That's the best you can do?" Ron retorted.

"He's your best friend. At least try to be understanding," Ginny said in a low voice.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dean said, stepping between the three of them. "Let's back up to the 'dad' part."

"Harry was adopted by Snape," Ron explained.

"Ron, what have you been drinking, mate?"

Ron put his hands on his hips. "You think I'd make that up?"

"It's true," Ginny comfirmed.

The entire room fell into an odd silence until Neville stepped over and said, "That's what you two have been fighting about?"

"It disgusts me. I can't take it," Ron stated sullenly.

Neville's eyes narrowed and he closed the rest of the space between them. "Harry found a father and all you can do is give him hell about it?" he asked, incredulous.

"It's Snape!"

"That isn't your problem!" Neville shouted at him, surprising Ron and everyone else. "Ginny's right, you are a miserable friend."

The portrait hole opened at that moment and Professor McGonagall ducked to come in. The room erupted at her arrival.

"Dear me. Everyone calm down," she admonished them.

"Is it true?" Colin asked in dismay. "Professor Snape adopted Harry?"

McGonagall checked her reaction. "I had thought the topic would be the headmaster, but I see, as usual, that I am mistaken. The answer is 'yes'. And that is the end of that for the moment." She composed herself, giving Ron and Hermione stern looks as she did so. With a deep breath, she said, "I am here with solemn news. We have lost Headmaster Dumbledore."

Most everyone dropped their eyes, even though this wasn't news.

"He will be sorely missed by all, I am sure. There will be a memorial tomorrow-- the time will be announced at breakfast."

Dennis raised his hand. McGonagall composed herself again and said, "Yes, Mr. Creevey?"

"What were his last words, Professor?" he asked curiously.

"Last words?" she echoed.

"Yes, ma'am," Dennis insisted solemnly. "Someone always records the last words of great wizards and witches. For example, Gretta Gobstobber's were, 'May there always be time for the growing of poppies and marigolds.'" After a pause, he added, "Marvin the Magnificent's were, 'Bloody, where did I drop my wand this time?"

Half the students ducked their heads, this time to laugh. Even McGonagall smiled with crinkled eyes. "Ten points, Mr. Creevey, for making me laugh when I dearly need to." She cleared her throat and looked around the ceiling in thought. "Let's see. He told Potter that he was very proud of him." Everyone shuffled a little where they stood. "He told me to take care of the school . . . and that was it."

She took another deep breath. "And on that note. I expect the prefects to take up the slack for the rest of the day--the staff are very chaotic at the moment." She picked out the relevant students with her eyes before she departed.

* * *

Harry refilled his teacup and leaned back on the couch in Snape's office. "I miss him already," he said, thinking painfully that at dinner his seat would be empty. He looked at Snape staring into his own cup. "Thanks for letting me come down here. I can't take a crowd right now."

"I prefer this to the alternatives as well." He stood up and paced over to the window. "The Ministry and the press are here in force," he observed.

"Did you lock the office door?"

Snape gave him a small smile. "Yes." Then after a pause: "I should not shirk my duties for long. Leaving my colleagues so startled was probably not wise."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"You were otherwise distracted by internal matters in the headmaster's office, but we were the main attraction. Alarming really, given that the foremost wizard of our time had, moments before, passed on."

"You never told any of the other teachers?" Harry asked in surprise.

"It is none of their concern," Snape said, as though that were obvious.

They fell silent for a long time. Harry fiddled with his cold teacup. "I feel bad that I feel so . . . liberated." Snape turned to him with an intense expression. Harry explained, "The two wizards who were running my life are both gone."

"The two most powerful wizards in the world, no less," Snape drawled, "of the century, perhaps, even." He paced across the floor and passed his eyes over the bookshelf on that side. He shook his head. "We are far too similar, you and I, for being so utterly different."

"Too many powerful wizards mucking about," Harry quipped sadly.

"That is what powerful wizards do, Harry," he said a little snidely. "Or they avoid mucking until the very last moment and only do it so no one else knows it is them and no one has the slightest clue what is going on."

"You're just trying to make me feel better, aren't you?"

Snape returned to the table and topped up his tea. "I am trying to make myself feel better." He drank down the cup and considered Harry. "And I suppose your little friends have gone up to the tower and told everyone."

"I expect," Harry said with a whinge. "If I'd thought of that . . . but I should have said something sooner anyway. I was being very unfair to you."

"Unfair to me?" Snape asked in confusion. "Believe me, Harry, I was quite content to keep my personal business, private."

"I was afraid you'd think I was embarrassed or something," Harry explained carefully. "I wasn't. I just knew I'd lose Ron," he said sadly. He thought a moment. "It does ruin your reputation, doesn't it?" Harry asked with a crooked grin.

Snape frowned at him. "Yes, indeed," he said grimly, making Harry smile more. "A Gryffindor, no less," he said in a disgusted tone.

Harry stared at the far wall and chewed his lip sadly. "I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have you right now," he said quietly.

Snape stepped back over and sat beside him. "I do believe this is the moment Albus had in mind when he made his suggestion to me."

Harry shook his head. "Mucking about as usual." Harry unwrapped a sweet from a bowl on the tray and popped it in his mouth. "Did you know this was coming? Did he warn anyone?"

"I should have. He made his peace with me the other day. He has always been exceedingly old and he would initiate little conversations like that periodically, so I thought nothing much of it."

"He didn't say anything surprising?"

"No. In retrospect I am surprised by what he left out. The conversation was entirely about you," he said in a disgusted tone.

Harry laughed lightly and scrubbed his face with his hands to shake his seesawing emotions. Every time he thought about never seeing Dumbledore again his chest ached horribly. This mood overcame him again and he stared at the floor without seeing it.

After long minutes of silence, Snape said, "I should go."

Harry hoisted himself to his feet off the low couch. "Facing the Gryffindor tower will take my mind off of Dumbledore for a while," he commented bleakly.

At the door, Snape said, "Come and find me if you need to."

* * *

Silence fell over the crowded Gryffindor common room when Harry stepped in. He gave the room an uncertain smile, wondering what they were all thinking.

"Hey, Harry," Neville said, breaking the stillness.

"Hi, Neville," Harry returned as though they were having an ordinary conversation.

Dennis chimed in, "Does this mean Professor Snape doesn't hate Gryffindors anymore?"

"I doubt it," Harry replied dryly.

"He has been nicer in general, for Snape," Ginny pointed out.

Harry wanted to head for his dormitory room, but he had to get through this. He took the empty seat by the fire across from Lavender. She stared at him as though he had turned into a Dementor. Hermione came over and sat on the arm of the chair and crossed her arms.

"I'm happy for you, Harry. Everyone else should be too," she said in a low voice while scanning the room. A few murmurs of assent followed this. She gave Ron, moping by the staircase, an especially long look.

"It's all right, Hermione." Harry sat back casually. "I'm happy. I don't care what anyone else thinks."

"Good for you," Hermione said. She patted his leg as she stood up. She stalked over to Ron to glare at him from closer range. Ron finally just escaped up the stairs.

Harry's shoulders fell as he watched this from the corner of his eye. Eventually everyone went back to their quiet conversations. The ones around Harry sounded like they may actually be about Dumbledore.

Severus Snape encountered a not dissimilar audience in the staff lounge, where McGonagall was preparing to speak to the press gathered in the Great Hall. He gave the stunned gazes an extra malevolent one in return.

"What's the matter here?" Hagrid said from his seat by the window.

McGonagall looked up from her notes and shook her head wryly. Sprout, standing at the half-giant's shoulder, said in a low voice, "We are a little surprised to discover Severus has adopted Potter."

"Ach, is that all?" He waved a great hand in dismissal. "Harry told me that ages ago. Doesn't make no difference, 'cepting to Harry o' course."

The staff shifted uncomfortably but didn’t argue.

McGonagall held out a parchment to Snape. "Read this over. Tell me if you see anything glaringly wrong or omitted."

It was a list of Dumbledore's accomplishments. Snape was stunned to find nothing on it that really held any meaning at the moment. "I don't think I am the right person to go over this." He started to hand it back.

McGonagall's head jerked up. "That boy has made you soft," she scoffed and snapped her fingers near his nose. "Get it together! I expected to rely on you."

Chastised, Snape took the parchment and a quill and sat down at the table to make edits.

* * *

That night Harry couldn't sleep. With a sigh he sat up in the darkness. He'd lain awake for hours without feeling any more likely to sleep. The drawer of his night stand held a half-full potion bottle, but he resisted using it. It felt disrespectful, maybe.

Silently, he pulled the drapes apart, put his legs over the edge of the bed and sat in thought. He noticed it then as he grew more alert: the castle didn't feel right. Harry pulled down his dressing gown, wrapped up in it, and quietly left the dormitory. On the stairs he realized he'd forgotten his slippers. He decided it wasn't too cold and continued down to the common room. The silence felt oppressive, the castle too still. He didn't have to be alone, he considered, as he eyed the dark hearth.

In the corridor Harry stepped lightly, his bare feet slapping the worn stone floor. The sound kept him company as he headed to the staircases. Something definitely was different. He stopped at the top of the first staircase and took a deep breath, expecting to smell something of the change. His hand rubbed the top of the banister as though trying to awaken a spell in it, or a djinni.

The thought that Dumbledore's magic was that strong, that he could sense its loss, frightened him, made him long for reassurance from someone. He went down three staircases. Even the portraits along the way seemed a little duller, less interested in him.

At Snape's door Harry hesitated; it was three in the morning. The thought of walking back through the castle's empty corridors made him knock. The door opened in a moment. Snape gestured gallantly for him to enter. He still wore his robes from earlier in the day.

"You haven't slept?" Harry asked as he entered the dim office. Snape shook his head. Harry dropped onto the couch with a sigh. A lamp on the desk flared higher as Snape adjusted it. He didn't immediately turn back. Harry watched his stooped back as he fiddled with the guard on the lamp. He was surprised Snape didn't burn himself as he rotated the glass collar by the top edge.

"Does the castle feel different to you?" Harry asked, curious.

"Yes."

Harry wrapped his arms around himself and sat back. The two of them could have been alone in the castle for all the sense of aliveness Harry now had of his surroundings. Finally, Snape turned his head to consider him. He pushed the lamp farther onto the desk and came over and sat beside him.

"I wish he hadn't gone," Harry said, blinking back a sudden dampness in his eyes.

Clasping his hands together tightly, Snape said, "His certainty that Riddle would rise, and return, was the only reason he was still with us."

"Still," Harry said. "I don't know if I like it here anymore," he said with a shiver, rubbing his arms.

"I think you will get used to it," he said levelly. He sat back as well and after a moment's hesitation, put an arm behind Harry, who leaned closer and rested his head on his shoulder.

Silent minutes later, Harry was asleep. Snape was grateful that they were in a comfortable position, because he didn't feel he could move. He listened to Harry's steady breathing for a while and wondered if Harry's sense of the changes in the castle were the same as his own occasional bouts of rampant uneasiness.

Harry shifted in his sleep and curled up his legs. For the first time Snape noticed that his charge was barefooted. Had Harry been awake, he'd have chastised him for it; as it was, he merely tightened his arm around him.

* * *

The Memorial service in the Great Hall was a staid affair. The students were in rows on the right side and the guests were arrayed on the left. The walls were lined, three-deep, with standing visitors. McGonagall made a long speech which Harry couldn't concentrate on. He felt worse today than he had the day before. A reporter, with a photographer in tow, slunk closer to the front along the center aisle to get a picture. Harry could see him scanning the students' faces as he went. Harry carefully kept Ron's taller frame beside him between himself and the stranger. Hermione had selected these seats in the middle for exactly this reason. Dean stood on Harry's other side in case someone came up the right aisle, although now it was too crowded for that to happen.

The speeches concluded. It required a full minute of silence for Harry to realize they had. A student a few rows ahead was sniffling repeatedly. At some signal Harry couldn't see, the crowd began to disperse. The four of them stayed put until most all the students had left. Harry could now fully see the stone platform at the front. Dumbledore was in the same sky-blue robe he had worn during the welcoming feast. The sight of his peaceful face and long beard laying across his chest was too much. Harry's eyes started to burn.

Grappling for control, he turned away from the sight. Dean took this as a cue to move and led the way out of their row. Harry followed close behind, eyes closed more than open. At the doors out of the hall, Dean stopped suddenly and Harry ran into his back. His friend's arm came around and pushed him against the wall behind the open door.

"They look like they're waiting," Dean said quietly of the reporters meandering in the entrance hall. "I assume for you, but maybe not." When Harry didn't respond, Dean turned his head around. "All right there?" he asked.

"No," Harry replied thickly. He brushed his face with his sleeve surreptitiously. Hermione was close beside him then, patting his arm. With enormous force of will, Harry won the battle with himself. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He was pinned between Dean and Hermione. Out in the entrance hall he could hear Skeeter asking about him.

"Do you have something you can say?" Hermione asked.

Harry snorted. "No." After a beat he said as though quoting, "We'll all miss him."

"Good as it gets," Dean quipped. "Shall we go? Or we can wait 'em out. Your choice."

Harry leaned against the stone wall beside him, and looked at Hermione. The Hall behind her was empty except for the platform and Dumbledore's still, supine figure. A chill ran over Harry's limbs.

Someone stepped sharply in the far set of doors; it was Snape. He glanced sideways at them before turning smartly around and shrugging melodramatically to someone beyond in the entrance hall. He pulled out his wand and sliced the air with it as he stepped back out. All six doors swung closed with a boom!

Harry breathed out in relief. He stepped forward to sit backwards on the last bench on that side. Resting his head on his hands, he said, "I'm sorry. I just can't take it all today. I just want to be left the eff alone." When his friends shifted a bit, he added quickly, "Not by you. By them." He gestured at the closed doors. "I can stand to give a piece of myself away if people are worried about Voldemort being gone, but what I'm feeling now is no one's business." He sat back. "I'm sorry--I don't mean to rant."

"Losing him is hard, but it had to happen sometime," Hermione said sitting beside him.

Harry's brow furrowed. "It happened when he wanted it to," he said sharply. "He wanted to go." At her doubtful look, he went on. "You think I can't tell the difference between alive and dead? One moment he's talking to me and McGonagall and the next poof! he's gone like a snuffed candle?" Breathing hard, Harry looked away from their stunned faces. Angry now, rather than hurt, he stood up. "It sounds quiet out there."

Dean went to the center doors and peered between them. "No. Still crowded."

Harry huffed and paced a bit, sparing a glance for the blue figure lying at the front of the room. The center doors opened. McGonagall leaned in and said, "The press have been convinced to give up."

"Good," Harry breathed and stalked around her to leave.

She gave his friends a questioning glance. "A little moody," Ron commented as he followed Hermione out. "Ma'am," Dean said as he passed. "Mr. Thomas," she replied before pulling the door closed behind them all.

* * *

Classes resumed on Monday. Harry found himself resisting heading down to Defense class. He stalled until the last moment and made it just as Snape stepped upon the platform at the front.

"We had a rather distracting weekend, but I still expect all of you to perform the assigned spells today." Snape glanced at Harry as he took a seat. The other students studiously avoided glancing at the straggler.

In pairs they were called up to demonstrate a Ferrus counter curse. When Ron and Hermione stepped up, Snape said, "Perhaps you should wait for the next demonstration, Ms. Granger."

"Why?" Ron asked sharply.

"I would presume, or hope, Mr. Weasley," Snape sneered, "that you would prefer to aim dangerous spells at a different classmate." Several students giggled at that. Ron turned bright red and waited as Neville changed places with an also blushing Hermione.

Ron, feeling vexed, threw a very hard blasting curse at Neville, who countered it easily. They reversed and Ron countered the carefully controlled spell Neville sent his way.

"As usual Mr. Longbottom," Snape said, "nicely done." When Neville stood stunned, staring at the teacher, Snape said in a tone of thin patience, "You may return to your seat, Longbottom."

Neville blinked and shuffled off in a hurry. He sat at his desk and stared ahead while the next pair went ahead. Eventually he leaned over to Harry and whispered, "What did you do to him, then?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing," he insisted.

"No," Neville insisted. "Somethin'."

Harry watched Snape working with Padma on the spell. "He likes teaching this better," he suggested, mostly because he knew Snape wouldn't want anyone to suspect him of softening up.

* * *

Harry made it through the day, and then the week, without dwelling excessively on Dumbledore's memory. He was feeling set free, and the more time passed, the stronger that feeling became. Even the emptiness of the castle began to seem more like new potential.

It was easier to visit with Snape now that everyone knew. Or had heard but didn't believe, as he found out one day when Pansy Parkinson came to ask for help while Harry was there working on his Potions essay.

"You don't really think you can hang out here, do you?" she sneered at Harry.

Snape's gaze as he accepted the rewritten essay she handed over went positively dangerous. She backed up and looked nervous a moment before asking in an almost elf-like voice, "You aren't saying it's true, are you, sir?"

"Yes, Ms. Parkinson. It is."

Her whole body drooped in a positively tragic way. Her eyes slid over to Harry and looked him over with total distaste before she drooped still more. She sighed deeply. "My essay, sir. I'm turning it back in," she stated sadly and dutifully before shuffling out the door and closing it softly. Harry actually wished she'd slammed it.

Harry thought that over, feeling an odd tugging of sympathy. "You do tend to look out for them . . . more than the average Head of House," Harry opined.

Snape stared at the closed door. "And I don't intend to change that," he said thoughtfully. He remained thoughtful a while before returning to his grading. Harry took his leave soon after, not really in the mood to ruin more Slytherin egos, although he wasn't sure why he cared.

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