The Master Plan

Chapter 30: Cast the Die

"Lupin, I'm telling you; the boy is playing a very risky game." Snape was bent over his desk, head in hands, supported by the elbows propped on either side of a small, round mirror. The face looking back at him was not his own; he doubted his own face could seem so uncertain about the matter.

"Yes, but...it's just a boyish infatuation, isn't it? I mean; he'll get over it more quickly if we let him go through the motions. That's one thing about boys this age; the only sure way of getting them to do something is by telling them not to." Remus looked at him almost sympathetically, as though he, too, had to deal with these 'fatherly instincts.'

Snape snarled at the man. It was all the worse knowing he couldn't even explain that he'd like to screw the boy himself--this wasn't about SEX, it was about stakes. "You dim-witted werewolf! He is not an ordinary boy; he doesn't have the LUXURY of making these sorts of mistakes. If Zabini gets bored with him, he won't just toss him aside or let Harry find him in a compromising position with someone else; he has the option of feeding him to the Dark Lord like a table scrap! Because He is always hovering around the Death Eaters, watching for that opening, and the Zabinis may not be knee-deep in it with the rest of us, but they're in it, all right. They launder money for the cause. Botolf is as much a Death Eater as he is a drunk, however little he's invited to participate in the significant schemes. Do you understand? And Harry's going about with his son!"

Lupin still looked doubtful. "That doesn't make the boy his father. We shouldn't judge him based on that," the werewolf told him in an aggravatingly calm and earnest voice.

"Stop being so doltish and myopic! This is not a Shakespearian drama! This is Harry's LIFE!" He roared into the mirror, making Remus flinch. "You can take your platitudes and diplomacy and shove them up your arse. You do not get to puff up and play a reasonable, well-wishing Friar Laurence, we are not dealing with any Capulets whatsoever, and the Montagues will not disown their little Romeo--on the contrary, they'll encourage him to use the part to their advantage!" Snape sighed, hissing through his teeth. He hadn't wanted to do this, but these thickheaded, gullible Gryffindors would believe the best of ANYBODY unless they were given proof otherwise. "Listen to me. A couple of nights ago, Zabini came to my chambers, and propositioned me. I don't care if you believe me but, for myself, it strongly suggested he did not have Potter's best interests at heart."

Lupin blinked at this. A line appeared between his brows. "He made a pass at you? Really? What exactly did he do?" His head was cocked as though there had to have been some kind of misunderstanding.

"He took hold of my hair, yanked me down to his level, and proceeded to make the attempt to introduce our tongues to one another. It was vile," he added, glaring at the werewolf, who was attempting to hide a smile behind his hand.

"Oh, my. He does get around, doesn't he? No, no," he waved off Severus's indignant ire. "I take your point. One of us is going to have to tell Harry, you know," he added with slumped shoulders.

"It won't do any good whatever. The last thing the little catamite offered me before retreating was the assurance that Harry would not, under any circumstances, believe my version of events over his. You can imagine what he's done to make it so. And Harry, being the guileless, besotted wretch that he is, is too ensnared for me to dare the attempt to pull him out."

"Mmm. I'll have a talk with him," Lupin said vaguely, and Severus scowled, feeling like the situation was not being given the attention it warranted. "How did you handle Blaise, I feel I should ask?"

Snape's scowl deepened at this. He was not proud to have manhandled a student, but had not been able to work up any real guilt, either. You know you've got it bad when you're reduced to--what's the word? "bitch-slapping" your rivals. You know you've got it WORSE when you do not, in fact, regret it, but long for an opportunity to repeat the action. Blaise was glamouring his stupid face, at any rate, so no one would know unless he actually chose to tell them. Which he apparently hadn't, so far. "None of your business," he informed the werewolf with haughty dignity.

"All right," Lupin accepted with a sigh. "I'm not certain I want to know, anyhow. Look, I'll talk with Harry next chance I get. Won't be soon, I'll be in Hogsmeade in a few days, but can't get back to Hogwarts--well, I MAY have time, but only if everything goes poorly."

"I still think it's a bad idea," Severus told him in ominous tones. "You're simply not cut out for this sort of thing. Leave it to the professionals; that's my advice. You're already as glassy-eyed as the walking dead. You look like some sort of haggard, ill-used, Victorian-era washerwoman."

"I'm fine," Lupin insisted firmly.

"Checked to make sure you still had a wet nose, did you?" Snape replied dryly.

"Ha, ha. Thank you for your concern. I'll be in touch; just don't attempt to contact me this way tonight, I'll be busy. Try not to get too over strung, would you? It's not good for your health, and makes you even more shrewish than you normally are." With a ribbing half-smile, Lupin vanished from the mirror. Bastard, thought Snape. He would choose NOW, of all times, to develop an inappropriate sense of humor.

____________________________________________________

Harry was sitting in bed, cross-legged, trying to memorize an especially convoluted chapter in his History of Magic book. He'd gotten a poor mark on the last exam, and the stern face Lupin made after seeing it convinced Harry he ought to try a little harder. For himself, not for Lupin. He was sure the werewolf had always gotten top grades, and that annoyed him endlessly. Why did Lupin have to be so...bloody perfect? Smart, kind, laid-back, brave...it just went on and on. How was Harry supposed to compete with someone like that? He tried to ignore the part of him that admonished how he shouldn't want to compete with Lupin. It wouldn't make a difference.

"Harry?" The voice from the doorway made him glance up, and he was surprised to see Blaise.

Harry exchanged a bewildered look with Ron. "What are you doing here?" he asked, carefully phrased to be different from, 'How the hell did you infiltrate the Gryffindor boys' bedroom?'

"Ah. Hermione let me in." He bit his lip, and looked more hesitant than Harry could remember seeing. His eyes were red-rimmed, as well, and Harry wondered if he had been crying. Don't be stupid, he told himself. Slytherins don't cry.

"Come on and have a seat, then," Harry offered, patting the bed next to him. He watched as Blaise reluctantly sat down. This was definitely weird. Blaise was never reluctant to get close to Harry. For the past few days, he'd been throwing himself at the other wizard at every opportunity; snogging him between classes, sitting next to him and putting his hand on Harry's thigh in Potions. This reversal was really odd. "What's the matter?" Harry finally asked him, as gently as he could. Blaise wasn't really acting as though he wanted to discuss it, but Harry felt the option should be given.

Blaise actually looked surprised for a moment, before settling into an expression of unhappiness tinged with suspicion. He gave a slight shrug, and Harry noted all sorts of things flicker across that beautiful face before he spoke again. Hurt, anger, bitterness, shame. Harry was deeply impressed--how come all Slytherins were so multi-layered and intense? "It's nothing much," Blaise finally responded, not looking Harry in the eyes. "I was just wondering if I could spend the night in here."

Harry was taken aback, and the other Gryffindors responded in a vociferous negative, earning themselves a poisonous look from Blaise. Harry gestured for silence. "Erm. Is there some reason you want to stay here? You seem kind of...not yourself, tonight."

Blaise glared at his hands, which were twisting and untwisting themselves in his lap. "It's only Draco being Draco," he said in a deceptively offhand tone, belied by the very angry look forming on his face.

This, at least, Harry understood. He should have realized there would be repercussions for Blaise, for becoming romantically involved with the Slytherin house's most despised enemy. "What did he do to you?" Harry asked in a gruff voice.

Blaise looked at Harry in confusion for a moment, before shaking his head. "Nothing. Exactly. But I won't say it. They can't make me say it. I'll sleep in the hall, if I have to. They think they're so fucking funny, the fucking hypocrites." To Harry's consternation, two angry tears trembled at the tips of the youth's long lashes, before dropping to splatter on the hands below.

"What did he do?" Harry demanded again, now becoming angry.

Blaise glanced at him, his expression wary. "Nothing big," he muttered, giving a resentful shrug. He sniffled a little, crossly wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. It was clear that he was getting himself under control, and that this was about as emotional as he would get. "He just changed the Slytherin password. And I won't say it. They all thought it was just hilarious. Every one of them stood there, jeering and laughing at me, like they're all so much better. Fucking hypocrites," he repeated. He looked a little perplexed when Harry put an arm around him.

"Tell me what the new password is, and I'll take care of it," Harry said determinedly.

Blaise's eyebrows rose, as though this was not at all what he expected. Then they knitted together and he looked away. "Blaise Zabini is the Slytherin Slut," he choked out.

"Um, no offense," Seamus put in, ignoring Harry's reproachful glance, "but why exactly does that bother you? I mean; people call you that all the time, and you've never seemed to mind."

"I'm sure I've become quite inured to their insults and maltreatment, overall," Blaise responded in a cold voice. "It's just that they haven't, thus far, done anything else that required I participate in my own humiliation."

"For fuck's sake, Finnegan, just shut up about it," Harry added in an exasperated voice. He gave Blaise another pat on the shoulder. "I'm going down to the Slytherin rooms. Anyone want to join me?"

All the other Gryffindors hopped out of bed, and Dean said with a wide smile, "Showdown between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy? Hell, yeah; I'm there."

"I'll be your second," Ron added, looking self-important and excited.

Harry nodded once. "Round up the other Gryffindors," he ordered. "Tonight, we take Slytherin house." He headed out the door, and fended off Hermione. "Yeah, yeah, I'll lose us points, I'll get in trouble, I'll bring the wrath of Voldemort upon my head," he intoned dismissively. "Tell me something I don't know. I can protect you and Ron from Draco if I have to," he added, "I don't have to worry about you, because I know where you are. Blaise has to sleep right down there with him, in the belly of the beast, so to speak. I have to go. This is what friendship's about, you know?" He didn't notice Blaise watching the exchange closely, his face closed, but his eyes flashing with conflicting emotions.

After a moment, Hermione sighed and said, "All right, but I'm not going with you." She settled herself into an armchair to await their return. "Have fun storming the castle," she muttered at their backs, already absorbed in a large tome.

Harry stopped at the blank stone wall that was the Slytherin common room door, Gryffindors gathering around him. He was really quite angry, and that made it hard to think. He took a deep breath and informed his audience, "I'm saying this once, and then after that, I never want to hear it again. You guys got that? This is the last time this phrase gets spoken out loud in Hogwarts." Muttering rose up around him, but he ignored it, stepping forward and stating clearly, if softly, "Blaise Zabini is the Slytherin Slut." The wall swung inward, and Harry marched through, carrying a wave of followers in his wake.

Malfoy was in front of the fire, laughing with some other Slytherins. His eyes widened in affronted shock as he saw the group approaching him. Blaise was on Harry's right, face as cold as any Slytherin's. "God, have you no shame?" Malfoy sneered at him. "Bad enough that you're fucking the Gryffindor golden boy, but now you go and betray your whole house by letting these--these baseborn, unwashed bastards in?! You're going to hell, and the Dark Lord will send you there himself if he finds out about this."

"Jealous," Blaise taunted.

Harry was shaking with anger, watching Malfoy grimace at his fellow Slytherin like he was something from the bottom of his shoe. "Draco," he said quietly, and when Malfoy's head turned toward him, he very straightforwardly punched Draco in the face. He watched dispassionately as the youth sat down hard, looking shocked. Blood was gushing from his nose. "I'd have that looked at, but not just now," Harry announced. "Now, everybody listen up!" Both Slytherins and Gryffindors had wands out, now, but the Slytherins had been unprepared, and did not look desirous of going a round or two with Harry, who had just knocked one of their most admired on his ass, without even using magic. "The Slytherin password is now, 'I apologize,' because I rather think you need to learn the phrase. Whoever can show us how to change the password, go with Dean, here. Don't you dare provoke me by not volunteering." He nodded to a Slytherin first year, who stepped forward and led Dean away. "There will be Gryffindors stationed here for the next couple of weeks. If you don't bother them--or Blaise Zabini--then I'm sure we'll all get along just fine. The next time someone makes a joke about Blaise, or harasses him in any way, you will all be very sorry. And you won't get a chance to say so. I'm sick to death of the childishness I get from you people. I've had enough. Therefore, I'm taking over Slytherin house."

Someone stepped out of the shadows, arm raised, and the Gryffindors gave a collective cry of alarm. Before the challenger got a word out, however, he was felled by Trembling Hex, and Harry was casually re-sheathing his wand. "No more of that nonsense," he stipulated. "Come on," he turned to Blaise. "I'll walk you to your room. Ron?" he added over his shoulder. "You can take charge of all this, right?" At Ron's smirk and salute, Harry managed a small smile before walking away.

"Whoever your roommates are, they'll have to come and collect their stuff," Harry said to Blaise. "I won't trust them not to hurt you while you're asleep. Is this your room?" he followed him in, looking around. "If anyone gives you any trouble, let me know," Harry said seriously.

"Why did you do that?" Blaise whispered. He was staring at Harry like the boy had informed him the moon was not made of green cheese, but kisses and smiles and copious amounts of brotherly love.

"Jesus, Blaise," Harry said in aggravation, "I did it because I CARE about you, all right?" He heard Ron's voice calling him. "Crap, I'd better go. Get some sleep, okay?" He nodded and left, and Blaise sat down on his bed, wondering why, for the first time in his life, he actually felt a little guilty about something. And why Harry Potter, of all the guys he'd had flings with, had claimed to care about him.

__________________________________________________________

Harry was nervous. He was going to meet Blaise tonight--not in the Three Broomsticks, but in the Hog's Head, and no one would see them, at least not for very long, because Blaise had paid for an upstairs room...

Snape had been angry about what transpired in the dungeons, and the Gryffindors had been forced to relinquish their hold. Still, Harry had reiterated his threat about anyone bothering Zabini, and it seemed to him the Slytherins took it seriously. Mostly they left the boy strictly alone, but a few had even attempted to be nice to him. Blaise was polite in return, but unfailingly spent his evenings with Harry. Harry hadn't been to detention for a couple of days, and Snape hadn't come looking for him. Which hurt more than he thought it should, considering he was with Blaise, now. He tried to accept that he couldn't turn his emotions on and off like a faucet, he just wished that, in Severus's case, they weren't ALWAYS ON. He had every reason to stop caring about the man; it was both logical and the best thing for him, emotionally speaking--but he couldn't do it. So, he subverted the feeling into messing about with Blaise. On some level, he realized that this was immature and probably cruel to everyone involved, but he tried to pretend it didn't matter.

That night, as he slipped on his dad's cloak, he began having second thoughts. This was one of the kinds of things Severus had tried repeatedly to warn him away from. Dangerous. Stupid. Likely to get someone in big trouble. But Blaise was willing to take the chance--and he knew exactly what they were getting into, or so he said. But there was still a voice in Harry's head--'Foolish,' it called him, and told him he was 'tempting providence.' It sounded like the Potions Master. Harry secured the cloak and began the trek into Hogsmeade. If it had sounded like anyone other than Severus, he might have listened.

When Harry was just outside the pub, he took off his cloak and folded it neatly, before stashing it under the porch. He wasn't a complete idiot. And Blaise didn't need to know about it, anyhow. When he entered the pub, he saw Blaise standing in the shadows, and the boy's eyes lit up. Harry fought down fear. Afraid of Blaise, that was stupid. But he wasn't afraid of Blaise, precisely, just of being alone with him.

Blaise gave him a quick kiss and said, "Shall we go upstairs?"

"I--I dunno. I just. I've never," Harry muttered, and blushed when Blaise smiled delightedly.

"You don't know what you've been missing," he purred, tangling a hand in Harry's hair. His tongue flicked against Harry's ear, and Harry tried not to flinch. He liked Blaise, he did. It was just that...he liked Severus more. And missed him poignantly, lately.

"Yes, but...I want people to respect you," Harry informed him, stepping back. "Like I respect you."

They faced each other, Blaise staring at him again as though he'd grown another head. He looked so at sea that Harry was just about to reach out and ask whether he was all right, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun, heart pounding, to see Lupin gazing down at him, mild expression somewhat more strained than it usually was.

"I think we need to have a little chat," the werewolf informed him in a tight voice.

After they arrived back at the castle, Remus said quietly, "I'll inform your heads of house about your behaviour. You can go back to your rooms," he told Blaise. "Harry, since you're already serving detention with Snape, we'll have to ask him what more he thinks we ought to try. Come with me."

"It was my fault," Blaise said quietly, causing both Harry and Remus some surprise. "Really; I lured him out and tried to take advantage of him." His voice was unemotional. Remus's expression barely changed, but something seemed to pass between the werewolf and the Slytherin, and Harry wondered what it was. Lupin looked... shrewd, and the student seemed subtly defiant. It was Blaise who looked away first. "I'm sorry," he told Lupin, and walked quickly away.

Harry followed his former professor to Snape's rooms, feeling confused and angry. It felt like everyone was keeping secrets from him. And now he'd have to face Snape. Snape opened his door, and merely raised an eyebrow in his typical style when Lupin escorted Harry inside. "Ah. Only a matter of time before the little delinquent tried it," he commented when Remus informed him of the situation.

Harry was sitting in a chair, while Remus paced unhappily and Snape stood in the doorway, an even more twisted smile than usual on his face. Harry glared at both of them. "I don't see why you have to tell your slimy boyfriend everything about me!" he finally said to Lupin in a loud, angry voice. It did not have the effect he expected.

"Pardon me?" Lupin stared at him. "You thought--Harry, did you think Professor Snape and I, ah, were--um. Involved?"

"Obviously so, judging by his outburst," Snape responded. "Where, I wonder, could he have gotten such an idea?" He was gazing coldly, accusingly at the man.

Lupin flushed, and Harry looked on in interest. He wasn't quite able to draw any conclusions, yet, but this was certainly not how he'd thought they would react.

"Well. I did tell him. About, you know. About the kiss." Lupin flinched away from Snape's violent, blasphemous response. "Harry--"he turned to the boy--"There has never been anything between the two of us. I don't know how you managed to maintain such a mistaken impression for so--so long," he stammered.

"Because he is obviously DELUSIONAL," Snape growled.

"Oh, thank you so very much," Lupin spat. "Like you're quite the catch yourself. Have you EVER bothered to wash your hair, or do you just rely on a good yearly spring rain to take care of matters?" Harry was shocked. He'd never heard Lupin get this defensive before.

"Ah, so now we're back to personal remarks," Snape said scathingly. "We were DISCUSSING HARRY, not your pathetic lack of romantic involvement, nor my supposed deficiency in grooming. Need I remind you of the importance of prioritizing?"

"Yes, well. Ah." Lupin cleared his throat. "At any rate, Harry, Professor Snape is really not my type."

Harry glanced at Snape to see how he would take this, but to his surprise, the man merely snorted. "Well, to each his own, then. Or, in Mister Zabini's case, everyone else's."

Harry stared at Severus. What the hell did THAT mean? It made it sound like Blaise had taken Harry away from him. Surely he didn't mean it like that. Still, Harry could not help the swell of desire he felt for the man. Wouldn't it be great if Snape were jealous? He licked his lips unconsciously, unable to tear his eyes away from the Potions Master's.

Snape watched the boy's eyes suddenly seem to turn a much darker green, as his pupils expanded. He wasn't sure why the boy was looking at him like that, or what it meant, but he did realize it was having inconvenient results on parts of his own anatomy. The lip licking was just about the last straw. He tore his eyes away, and tried to focus on his argument with Lupin, which seemed rather trifling suddenly. "Might I enquire as to WHY, exactly, you felt the need to enlighten your godson as to one of your less impressive, not to mention ancient, romantic conquests?" He sneered.

"I felt the boy needed good role models, and he also needed to know how I dealt with all this at his age." Lupin looked stubborn.

"I did inform you that I wanted NO PART of being a role model to him! And frankly, he'd already dealt with the matter, and if not with more tact, than at least with less cowardice than you yourself had shown. And I'll thank you not to go about parading anecdotes about MY PRIVATE LIFE to whomever you deem worthy! Fucking deceitful, backstabbing werewolf," Snape muttered mutinously.

"Oh, yes, and you're just a paragon of virtue in that area," Lupin replied bitterly. "You cost me my job, got me thrown out of Hogwarts, never able to teach again--"

"You are a WEREWOLF, you self-deceived screwball! You don't merely get overemotional once a month and throw a couple of weepy tantrums! You turn into a great, slavering beast with a real possibility of ripping someone's throat out! You don't belong in a SCHOOL, for God's sake, unless you're the one being studied! I don't know why--"

"And once again it's Lupin the monster!" Lupin was yelling sarcastically. "You know, that's quite ironic considering I wasn't the one terrorizing the countryside, raping and looting and pillaging, dark mark and Death Eater's mask firmly in place. To my knowledge, I have never killed anyone. You think--"They were really screaming at each other, and Harry watched in breathless amusement. They weren't together. Snape didn't love Lupin. Snape hadn't been using him. They hated each other. They hated each other.

All of a sudden Snape cut off in the middle of a sentence, his eyes going unfocused. Harry saw his right hand twitch toward his left forearm. "Lupin! BELT UP, would you?" he yelled at his guardian, taking the man by surprise. He gave a sharp nod at Snape, and Lupin's eyes went wide with sudden understanding.

"He's calling me," Snape informed them curtly. "Wait here. I'm going to inform Dumbledore, and return immediately." He picked up some floo powder from the mantle and quickly disappeared.

"Harry," Remus said quietly after the spy had gone, "why did the thought of Snape and I together upset you quite so badly?"

Harry's head jerked up. "Well. You know. Just thought I was going to be forced to play happy families with Professor Snape, that's all. You kept dragging him along everywhere, and whispering stuff to him, and it was. Disturbing; you know?"

Lupin laughed shortly. "Well. Yes. I suppose it would be, at that." He stopped talking as Snape reappeared in the fireplace.

"You're to keep a close eye on the boy," he said tersely. "Death Eaters captured someone in the Order. I have to go."

"Who did they get?" Harry asked in a horrified voice.

Snape was quiet for a long time, pouring himself a last drink before leaving. "Oldest Weasley boy," he finally responded. "You're not to tell his brother."

"Bill? They got Bill?" Harry's throat was suddenly dry, and he joined Snape at the decanter and helped himself to a drink of his own. Snape didn't seem to notice, and Harry didn't see the odd look Lupin gave him before deciding some things were more important.

"Dear God, are you sure? Is he...is he still...?" he trailed off, unwilling to discuss it in front of Harry.

"So far as anyone knows; that's why I'm going," Snape responded gravely, taking another swig. He was very pale.

"Poor Molly. And he'd just met that girl...they'd already been talking engagement...children, all of that." Lupin shook his head, worried.

"Hm. Yes, I do recall hearing something about that," Severus acknowledged. He was silent a while, thinking. "I remember him in Potions. Could hardly tell his wand from his cauldron. I can only imagine how that would have translated to his married life."

"Severus," Lupin reproved.

"Yes, yes." He took a deep breath. "I've got a batch of that new healing potion simmering," he suddenly remembered. "Inform Albus so he can remove it from the heat at...let's see, exactly eight o'clock tomorrow morning," he commanded Lupin. "You!" he aimed a finger at Harry's face. "You'll stay out of trouble. It isn't a request! Do you understand me? I've got things that need my attention; I'm going to have to be focused, and I can't do that if half of me is worrying about what new damn-fool situation you're getting yourself into! For fuck's sake, stay out of trouble!"

"Harry, give Severus your cloak," Lupin suggested in a contemplative voice. Harry looked surprised, but gave it up immediately, no questions asked. Snape gave a reluctant thank you and took it. "And you'll not be getting it back until you've earned it," Lupin added as an afterthought, causing Snape to smirk.

"You can't--"Harry protested.

"I can and I have," Lupin said with finality. "And you'll be giving the map to me. No!" he said, overriding another protest. "I certainly can; it's mine, after all."

"I'll get cold without my cloak," Harry halfheartedly objected.

"Then we'll get you a new cloak," Lupin said, and Harry heard the warning in his voice. He reflected he should have resented it, but he was too worried just now to think about it. They trailed behind Snape to the door to his chambers, and watched him lock up. Harry no longer had a key that worked, and he was assaulted by a pang of regret that he felt he should have given up some time ago.

"Good luck," Lupin told Snape, offering his hand. Severus rolled his eyes, but finally shook it. "If anything happens, what do I tell...them?" he asked enigmatically, and Harry got the feeling he was not referring to the members of the Order.

"Nothing," Severus replied brusquely. "You hardly know me, and we haven't spoken. That way, whatever happens, you'll still have your chance. I would not relish the thought of taking anyone down with me." Harry's throat constricted certain he was, listening to the man discuss the imminent possibility of his own death as clinically and dispassionately as if it were completely impersonal.

"Be careful," Harry whispered, and the man frowned at him.

"No, YOU be careful," he whispered angrily in return. Harry's lower lip began to tremble, and Severus felt panicky. After all these years in the magical school system, all this time TRYING to have that reaction on children, why was it that suddenly NOW the idea of one youth's tears had become such a sure assault against his defenses? But it wasn't just any youth, was it? A small amount of liquid breached the boy's lash and was blinked out, beginning its downward trek, and more of the damn things were welling up in his eyes. Oh, fuck me, Severus thought, thoroughly exasperated. "Damn it," he remarked, in what he hoped was not too hoarse a voice. "Now I've got two cloaks to wear, and I'm going to overheat tonight running around in one." He whipped off his own black cloak, nothing so fine as those some of the Death Eaters wore, but warm and soft and damn well good enough for any stupid boy, who very clearly was not going to stop the waterworks until he had some reassurance that he was. Well. APPRECIATED, or REMEMBERED, or some such nonsense. He had told himself he wouldn't do this again, that he wasn't doing the boy any favors, but really, he didn't need two cloaks, and that stupid Potter was standing right there in front of him, eyes SWIMMING with tears. "Here," he growled, shoving the cloak right in Harry's face and, if he happened to inattentively brush a few of the drops of hurt--and whatever other overly-strong emotion the brat was feeling--off his cheeks, well, he certainly hadn't INTENDED to. "That cloak had better be in the exact same shape it is now when I return," he threatened, and for some reason, Harry smiled at this, made happier somehow by the words than the offering of a perfectly good cloak. "If I find out you've--you've leant it to Zabini, or something--"

"He won't touch it," Harry promised, still feeling sick with worry. But Severus had practically promised he'd come back, hadn't he? "And I'll be careful while you're gone. Obedient, even." He managed to almost smile, and wasn't surprised to see Severus didn't buy any of it. But he would be careful. He tried to convey this with his eyes, not wanting the man's concentration broken by concerns about him. "Please don't think you need to be distracted because of how I might be behaving in your absence. I won't do anything. I'll even ground myself, so I won't see Blaise at all, except in class, until you return."

"Oh, that's what would happen, anyways," Lupin cheerfully informed him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Harry tried not to let his smile turn too sour.

For some reason, Severus's eyes seemed amused by this, and he gave them one last nod, before turning away to face his responsibilities.