Where the Demon Resides I: From the Snake's Pit

Harry woke with a start, taking a shuddering breath. He looked around himself, trying to regain his bearings. He was in his bed, in Gryffindor tower, early morning sunlight creeping through the windows. Severus was no where to be seen, but Hedwig was perched on his pillow, nipping his hair and cheeks affectionately, a letter tied to her ankle. Harry was taking in deep gasps of breath, disoriented and confused...and wanting desperately to know why he wasn't still in bed with Severus. He tore the letter from Hedwig's leg and read:

Don't be angry...I thought you could do with some good dreams.

SS

Harry let out a pathetic, desperate sob and flew out of his bed to the trunk that resided at the end. He flung it open, digging deep to find his map, his cloak and his journal all still buried within...

A dream...it had only been a dream. The conversation with Nathalie, the encounter with Severus. He couldn't be angry at Serenity for trying to make him happy, even when the end product left him thoroughly despondent. It had seemed so real, so perfect. He began to cry in earnest, slumping back down on his bed, exhausted. It wasn't fair...

Harry laid his head against the pillow and let his eyes fall shut. Wasn't Serenity supposed to know better than to toy with other's emotions? Wasn't she the oldest of the three, supposed to give guidance, not play games? But then, Harry had to give her the benefit of the doubt and consider the fact that she thought she was helping. What he wouldn't give to have Hermione here now, to discuss this new turn of events with her, but then he sat bolt upright, suddenly fearful that his conversation with her the night before had not happened. He didn't even know what was real anymore, and what wasn't.

"Harry, are you ever going to come down to breakf--" Ron came bounding in the room, excited and fell short of the bed when he saw Harry's tears...he'd never seen Harry cry, even in the worst of times...even when Cedric had been killed. "Harry?" He gasped, making his way to slowly sit on the edge of the bed and place his hand awkwardly on Harry's back. "What's the matter?"

"Just...a bad dream," Harry bit out, rubbing his face against the sheets to wipe away the traces of his tears. "I'm fine, now." He stood, put his glasses on and stretched, noting with belated horror the stain on his sheets from something else.

Ron simply raised a brow and tried very hard not to smirk. "Looks like a pretty good dream, to me."

Harry gave him a narrow look and snatched his wand from the nightstand, making a sweeping gesture over the bed and the spot disappeared. Ron continued to laugh much to Harry's dismay. "What did you want, anyway?" He asked shortly.

"Hermione and I were worried. I mean, you wouldn't wake when Dean and I tried earlier...now I know why." Ron giggled when Harry smacked him on the arm. "Its about time for breakfast and after you told everyone to eat for the strength, I'd think it would be hypocritical of you not to eat, too."

"Just, let me clean up," Harry sighed, pushing off the bed, wishing he could just crawl beneath the sheets. Despite everything, he wasn't tired, only depressed beyond reason. His words only made Ron laugh harder. Harry ignored him, slamming the door to the bathroom closed behind him. A shower would take too long; he didn't want to answer question as to why he had slept in so long. He tore off his pyjamas and tossed them into the clothes hamper, where the house elves could take care of his mess. He ran a cold, wetted cloth over his flushed skin and threw that aside too.

Without even noticing it, he had selected all Slytherin colours. His pants were a light grey, nearly silver and his sweater was forest green, with silver stitching around the edges. His mirror image raised a brow and asked, "Is there something I should know about us." Harry scowled at himself and pulled his robes over his shoulders, hiding away the traitorous colours beneath a red and gold crest. His ran shaky fingers through his hair, taming it just a bit and smoothing his bangs over his forehead to cover the scar there. It was then that he noticed the bruise adorning his throat, right above his pulse. It was a large purple splotch with dots of strawberry interspersed and the faint outline of teeth.

Shaken, he stormed back to the dorm where Ron was still waiting, no longer laughing, but smiling giddily, leaning against his bedpost. "Mind telling me who was the star of you...nightmare, last night?"

"YES!" Harry shouted, then had the grace to look ashamed at his out burst. He took his wand from the bed and glared into the mirror above their shared dresser. "Ron, there's no way in hell I'm telling you what it was about."

"Awww...come on, Harry," Ron egged, smiling cheekily.

"No." It was said firmly enough, that Ron feel silent, for the time being at least. He watched with suspicion as Harry muttered a concealing spell over the bruise, which faded to a very light brown, barely noticeable, and then only as a shadow. The two of them trouped down the stairs, Harry looking like he was heading to war, Ron looking like the cat that'd caught the canary.

Hermione smiled hesitantly at the image they made, though she could only wonder at to what was going on with them. "Did I miss something?" She queried.

Ron only began to laugh again and Harry looked extremely annoyed at the picture, his lips pursed, his eyes mere slits. "Only Ron being a moron. But, as we see that so often, every day, it isn't as if you should miss it." He linked his arm with Hermione and dragged her out of the common room, towards the great hall, while Ron regained himself and followed.

Breakfast was already half over when they arrived, all of their classmates finishing up their first plate and some going back for seconds. The famous Gryffindor trio sat among the other Quidditch players who watched them interact with amusement. Harry loaded his plate up and began to eat sullenly, trying to ignore Ron, glad that Hermione was seated between them. "If you don't knock it off, Ron, you're going to choke," Harry muttered, as Ron tried to swallow his eggs around his still lingering laughter. "It wasn't even that funny."

"Are you kidding?" Ron demanded. "That was hilarious...Here I thought you were a saint!"

"What happened?" Dean asked, waggling his eyebrows. Seamus leaned into the conversation, looking intrigued as well.

"Does this have something to do with the noises you were making in your sleep this morning?" The Irishman asked. Now the rest of the team, girls included, looked very interested, too. Neville hid a snort. Ginny was looking disheartened, her cheeks flushed, her face down turned.

Harry turned brick red, fixing his eyes on a spot across the room. It didn't help that the spot he chose to fix on was Severus Snape, and Severus chose that instance to look back at him. It didn't help either, that Severus himself was looking rather flushed, and when his eyes met Harry's they flashed with shame before looking elsewhere. Now wasn't that interesting. He then flicked his gaze to Serenity in question, but she merely shrugged and turned away, looking very guilty. His housemates turned to look where he was and their eyes lighted on Serenity.

Seamus gave a low whistle and Dean and Neville joined Ron in helpless laughter. "An older woman, Harry?"

Ron eyed Serenity thoughtfully, "Good taste, though. Those lips..." He trailed off and the other boys hummed in agreement, while the girls rolled their eyes. Harry's fingers flew to his own lips, rubbing them absently, remembering just what Serenity's lips had felt like against his. This action did not go unnoticed by Ron, who quite suddenly stopped laughing. He looked hard at his best friend, and then their teacher, even more curious than before. But he didn't have a chance to ask anything at that moment, because the mail arrived.

The Daily Prophet landed neatly next to Hermione's plate, Lavender, Parvati, Ron and Dean had all received letters from home, and an unfamiliar eagle owl landed next to Harry's plate, stretching out its leg, very matter-of-factly. Neat, curled red ribbon held parchment of the same colour. Curious, he unlaced the letter and gave the owl a piece of toast in return. It took the treat and sat back, waiting for him to read, fluttering its wings. Gold ink spilled over the paper in neat, non-cursive print.

Dear Harry,

Ma mere is travelling to France this weekend, with Brigitte-Marie, to visit the children still in school. She is leaving me, to entertain myself. I was hoping you would allow me to join you, this weekend. I have already spoken with Dumbledore, and he has agreed to let me stay in Gryffindor tower, if you agree. I have heard that you shall be playing your first game of Quidditch on Saturday. I would be delighted to see it! Let me know back by return owl.

Deepest Regards,

Nathalie S. Sparrow

Harry looked over the Hermione and Ron, but they hadn't been reading over his shoulder, bickering with each other instead, over something the twins had done, which Mrs. Weasley had recounted in her letter. "Can I borrow a quill, Hermione?" He asked. Distracted, and not even turning to look at him, she dug into her bag and passed him a quill and inkpot. Harry tore a bit of blank parchment from the end of Nathalie's letter and wrote:

Dear Nathalie,

I would like very much for you to join me this weekend. I need to speak with you anyway, and it would be much nicer to do so in person. Plus, I'd love for you to meet all my friends. You can come by at dinnertime this evening, if you like. See you then!

Sincerely,

Harry

He attached the letter to the owl who was waiting patiently. The thing nodded at him and took off in flight. "Love letter?" Ginny hissed from across the table and Harry looked up at her in surprise. She looked livid, to say the very least. "Who's Nathalie?" She demanded.

Harry blinked at the venom in her voice and noted that no one else had heard her, as they were so busy with their own letters. "She's...just a friend. Ginny..." He eyed her wearily, having never known her to look angry. She had the ability to look as frightening as her mother did, her face nearly as red as her curly locks.

Ginny slammed her hands flat on the table and stood. "I don't want to hear it!" She shrieked, and stormed from the room, much to the shock of the entire hall. As soon as she was gone, the eyes left her retreating form and turned to stare at Harry.

"Lover's spat?" A voice from behind Harry drawled and he spun to see Malfoy, standing just behind him, eyes alight with humour and something much more disturbing.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Harry growled under his breath. He sincerely hoped that Draco still had some sense of self-preservation and would restrain himself from any public displays of affection. As if reading his thoughts, and wishing to dash his hopes, Malfoy's smirk grew into a full-blown grin and he bent at the waist to rest his head on Harry's shoulder. The Gryffindors around them slid further away on the bench, casting strange looks at them. His hands stole to Harry's arms and gripped his wrists tightly and Harry couldn't help but shudder, remembering the dream.

"Interesting choice of words, Harry," Draco purred, his lips brushing lightly against the shell of Harry's ear. Harry's eyes slid close in memory and despite everything, he leaned into Malfoy's touch, which pleased Draco to no end. Ron, Hermione and the other sixth years were watching in concern, wondering what Malfoy could be saying to garner such a reaction from Harry, who was biting his lip to keep from moaning when Malfoy arched imperceptibly towards him, pressing something hard into the middle of Harry's back.

So much like last night, when, beneath the tables, where no one could see, Malfoy's fingers slid down from the wrist to lace with Harry's, when his breath stirred the hair on Harry's neck and warmed the skin of his cheek. In fact, it was so overwhelming, Harry knew he wouldn't resist if Malfoy kissed him, then and there. Which, the way the lips hovering over his skin were inching near his own, he might.

"Sev..." It was whispered on a breath, so light that no one heard save Draco, who let out a hiss of disapproval in response.

"No." The one word held so much malice, but promise of great pleasure. "No, Draco..."

Helpless, Harry nodded his head, "Draco," He submitted, which was almost as bad as begging for his kiss, right here, for all of Hogwarts to see, for Severus to see...Could his morning get any worse? It wouldn't matter if Draco kissed him now. There was a crash across the room and both their heads snapped up to see the source.

Severus was staring at them in disbelief, as was half the teacher's table, but Severus had been the one to make the noise. His glass lay on the ground, shattered, sending glass and juice everywhere. Harry struggled to loosen Malfoy, but the Slytherin held tight, calmly catching Severus' eyes and giving him a slow, cat like grin.

Dumbledore was approaching them, a kindly, absent-minded smile in their direction. "Perhaps you should join your own table, Mister Malfoy," He suggested gently and Harry noted that there was no pleasant twinkle in the headmaster's eyes.

"This isn't finished," Malfoy warned, so quiet that it couldn't be heard by the Headmaster, and bit Harry's cheek hard, leaving another bruise, not dissimilar to the one on his neck.

The Slytherins didn't seem to think a thing of Draco's odd behaviour as he took his seat there. In fact, they rather acted like it hadn't happened. The Hufflepuffs were blushing furiously and looking anywhere but at Harry. The Ravenclaws were whispering theories among themselves and the Gryffindors were watching Malfoy's back with glares.

"That bastard!" Ron said. "I can't believe the teachers were all watching and let him get away with that! He bit you!!! That's violent, and he could have some disease. He should have at least lost some points. What did he say, Harry?"

"Just more vague threats. You know, like on the train."

"But," Ron trailed off, frowning. "But you looked like you were in pain."

Or pleasure...Hermione thought, but wisely kept that to herself. The other Gryffindor's agreed with Ron and decided that Malfoy must have said something terrible about Harry's parents that he didn't wish to repeat and they were all plotting ways to get back at the Slytherin. Severus, on the other hand, was still pasty white and shaken and Harry couldn't meet his eyes, so full of guilt. First over the dream, and then betraying his love for Severus as he had, with Malfoy of all people. They had Potions second today, and Harry was not looking forward to it at all.

Hermione and Ron practically had to drag him up the steps to Divination, where Serenity and some of their classmates were already waiting. Lavender and Parvati were already deep in a Tarot card reading and Dean, Seamus and Janelle were trying their hand at tealeaf readings. After the first few weeks of learning from the book, Serenity had given them pretty much free reign to practice however they pleased, at their own rate, on the subjects that interested them. Serenity was seated at the head of the class, purposely avoiding Harry.

"Professor Renardier," Both her title and her name were said with much sarcasm and derision, as if he were in on a joke that only the two of them got. Which he was. "I need to speak with you, privately."

Serenity cleared her throat and looked to the class. "Perhaps you could all excuse me for just a moment?" She asked, her voice throaty and quiet, less than a whisper. The class nodded as a whole, too shocked to speak in return, wondering just what was going on between Harry and the Professor, with first breakfast and now this.

They left the tower, walking a short distance down the hall to an empty classroom and Serenity cast a locking spell over the room and then she turned to face Harry at last, with apologetic, downcast eyes. "I was only trying to help," She protested weakly.

Harry looked furious. "Did he dream the same thing I did?" Serenity remained silent. "Damnit, Serenity, this isn't a game! Did he dream the same thing I did?"

Hesitantly, Serenity nodded. "Yes...I put a potion in your drinks for shared dreams. Every action you took in your dreams was your own. And Severus doesn't know. I won't tell him, I swear."

"It doesn't matter!" Harry screamed, "Its been done--you've...you...Last night was...amazing. I made love to the man I love for the first time...and it was everything I thought it would be...so beautiful. And then I find out it was a fucking dream! And poor Sev...god, what that must have been for him...a nightmare, I'm sure...what Draco was doing to me, Severus did to me, last night."

"I'm sorry," Serenity pleaded. "So, so sorry. Harry..." She reached for him tentatively, but he jerked away from her.

"Just, go away. Go back to class. Tell Ron and Hermione that I've gone to the hospital wing and I'll meet them in Potions," Harry ordered, his eyes hard and unreachable.

"Harry," She repeated, laying a hand on his arm. Her eyes were wide, her face paler than usual "I never would have thought...I just...Ooooh." She made a rueful little noise in the back of her throat. "Well, I'll make it all better."

"What?" Harry snapped irritably. "You can't make it better! Nothing you could do could make it better. You can't just make me forget."

"Yes, I can."

Harry blinked up at her, realisation dawning. He took a step back, horror spreading over his face. "You..." He looked positively furious. "I thought I told you to get out of here! So get the hell out. I don't wanting anyone fucking around with my head or my memories, least of all you. I think you've done quite enough, already!"

Serenity drew her wand from her sleeve and raised it and Harry shuddered, taking another step back. He remembered with a flash of terror the time that Lockhart had tried to take his memory, and he remembered the way Lockhart had been when that spell had backfired. "Don't fucking think about it!" He shrieked.

"It's really better this way," Serenity said, calmly. Harry's mouth dropped in complete refusal to believe what he was hearing. She was insane. The woman was terribly, utterly insane. Manipulating people to be the way she wanted, making him do things he shouldn't, then, when things didn't work out her way, she took his memory, just like that. It seemed very much like something a Slytherin would do.

Harry swallowed hard. I won't forget, I won't forget. He'd stopped backing away, and was standing, shaking only a few feet away from her. "Please," He whispered, surprised at how shaking his voice sounded. "Please, don't do this." Maybe she'd see reason.

"Obliviate."

"What?" Harry asked, looking around him confusedly. "I'm sorry...I've just." He sat down quickly in the nearest chair, holding his head. "Serenity?"

"Oh, perhaps you should go to the hospital wing. Those prophetic dreams are just getting worse." Serenity laid a hand on his shoulder.

That wasn't right...a prophetic dream? He didn't remember dreaming last night. He did remember running into Malfoy, and the conversation with Hermione, but everything afterwards was a blur. There was also a vague feeling of resentment and anger invoked by Serenity's touch. He shrugged her off. "No, I think I'll just lie down til potions."

Severus had the attention span of a first year all throughout his first class. Luckily, the Ravenclaw seventh years didn't need much attention and had set about following his instructions on the board. This left Severus to dwell on his thoughts, which wasn't necessarily a good thing.

Harry had never shown up the night before, as he had promised he would. Harry didn't break promises lightly and Severus had been worried, but unable to act upon his fear. It wouldn't do for him to show up at Gryffindor Tower, demanding to know that Harry was safe. Part of him was afraid that Harry had simply forgot, that Harry didn't take the relationship as seriously as he pretended to.

He'd fallen into a fitful, dream filled sleep in his armchair, near the door. Dreams from the night before plagued him, now worse than before breakfast, for seeing the interaction between Malfoy and Harry worked better at killing passion than a wet shower, while simultaneously bringing to mind the images of the night before.

Harry's body had moved against his then, not Malfoy's. The name on his lips had been Severus; the kisses had been his alone. In his dream, it seemed so perfect, none of the obvious and plentiful objections coming to mind. It had just been pleasure, pure and simple. The way that Harry fit against him, lips, body...soul. He didn't need Harry's touch to bring him pleasure; he only needed to see Harry's release, the statement on that beautiful, youthful face.

Yes, youthful, which was what kept bringing Severus crashing back to reality. The face of his student. His under aged student, who to kiss would be a punishable crime...not to mention what he'd done to that innocent in his dreams. He felt that he was committing a sin merely to think about it, but that couldn't stop the memories, of the night before, or of the morning.

Potter had a bruise on his neck...in the same place that Severus had made one in the dream. For a wild, fleeting moment of hope, Severus thought they had shared a dream, just as Harry and Serenity had. In the moment, there was the prospect that Harry could just maybe feel the same for him as he did for Harry. The sight of Malfoy and the touches he gave Harry...and most of all, Harry's reaction quickly doused that thought. What others could mistake for pain or anger, Severus saw for what they were. Severus knew very well the fine line between pleasure and pain, having walked it so often himself and he knew that what was written across Harry's face was clearly pleasure. The way his lips moved... for another moment of suspended time and wishing, he'd thought those lips were going to whisper his name, but Draco's was formed instead, and that was it.

That explained why Harry had not shown up the night before, as it would have been quite easy for Draco to intercept him and that explained the love bite on Harry's neck, now with a matching one on the cheek. What that didn't explain was Draco's cryptic message on the train and why Harry would be associating with him in such a public display. He didn't know how he was going to face them both in the same class. Speaking of class...the Ravenclaws were filing out and Slytherins and Gryffindors were taking their place.

Draco strode in confidently, his chin tipped towards the ceiling, his eyes finding Snape's at once to give the teacher a challenging smirk. Severus was helpless to respond in kind, to say anything that might confirm Draco's thoughts that Severus was a traitor with feelings besides hate and disdain for Harry Potter.

Severus stood and took a shaky breath, hoping he looked composed. In a lazy gate, he made his way to Malfoy's table. Blaise was already there, whispering something about the incident at breakfast. Severus traced one finger over the tabletop, into Draco's line of sight so that the boy would acknowledge his presence. "Quite a show you put on this morning, Draco," He muttered. "Perhaps in the future you could be more discreet."

Silver eyes flashed up to meet black and there was a moment of tense silence between them. Draco had to fight back the urge to snarl at the man before him, the man whose name Harry had whispered rather than his. On the other hand, when commanded, Harry had whispered "Draco." There was the promise of turning Harry away from Severus. Youth and beauty versus age and repulsiveness...there was no contest. "Professor?" He asked innocently.

"You would not want word to reach your father that you are becoming romantically entwined with Harry Potter, of all people."

Blaise teetered closer and whispered, deadly soft, "That is your singular interpretation, Professor. It did not look at all like a romantic encounter to me this morning, nor to any of the other students."

Severus narrowed his eyes at the Slytherin, not the child of Death Eaters, so he was free to treat Blaise however he pleased. "I do not believe I was addressing you, Blaise."

Draco had ignored the words of his housemate and was focusing instead on what Severus had said before. "No, Severus, I doubt any loyal Death Eater would want word of any sort of rendez-vous with Harry Potter reported to my father." Blaise and Draco shared devious, secret smiles then looked back to the head of their house. Just because Blaise's parents weren't Death Eaters didn't mean they didn't associate with them, or condone them.

"Be good, Severus," Draco added, with a slight pout. "Teach the class and I won't pass word of your reaction to my...display, this morning, to my father."

"Damnable brat," Severus mumbled, as he made his way back to the head of the class. Hermione and Ron entered without Harry, but Hermione's eyes were drawn to Severus, something odd, as most Gryffindors avoided looking at him at all costs. Her gaze was soft and curious, as if she were looking for something in him, something he didn't want her to be looking for. If Harry had told her...

Speaking of Harry, where the hell was the boy? Ron and Hermione were no doubt asking the same question. Ron appeared annoyed and angry and followed Hermione's eyes to where they rested upon Snape. He snapped something at her and she had the grace to seem ashamed, before joining him in his speculation as to Harry's whereabouts.

The second bell rang, signalling the beginning of class. With a glare cast at Hermione's blatant stares, he flipped open his textbook and ordered the class to do the same. "Today, class, we shall be working on the Age Reversal potion. As you already know, assuming that you actually read your homework assignment, there are several different degrees of the potion, in which the ingredients vary to allow for age reversals of a few months, to age reversals of many decades."

Harry chose that moment to enter, not bothering to look apologetic, in fact, not even looking at Severus. He favoured Malfoy with a sneer when he passed his table and then settled next to Neville, who was, as usual, partner less. "How kind of you to join us, Mister Potter. Do you care to explain why you were delayed? If you plan on lying, don't bother. I can just take the points away now."

The look Harry gave him was so full of hate that Severus had to fight the strong urge to take a step back. Then, he realised, with only a small amount of relief, that the hatred was not for Severus, but for Harry himself, and no doubt Malfoy. Severus swallowed hard, the part of him that cared for Harry--the by far largest part of him--demanded that he do something to console him. The much smaller part of Severus--teacher and undercover Death Eater--restrained him. "Well?"

"I guess," Harry drawled, in a tone that was unlike any that anyone in the room had ever heard Harry speak in. "That I wanted to prolong having to see your greasy face."

There was a collective gasp from the students around him. Neville had turned a sickening shade of green, most likely afraid that he too would suffer Snape's wrath, for being paired with Harry. Ron didn't know whether to laugh or whimper, and so made a strange noise somewhere in between and someone behind him was hyperventilating. Severus' eyes flashed in anger and hurt, but the comment had seemed to deflate Harry entirely. His shoulders slumped, his statement begged for forgiveness; he looked hurt far worse by his words than Severus did. I'm sorry. He thought, willed for Severus to hear.

"Go," He pointed to the door that led to his office. "Go there and wait." Severus' voice was broken glass. The class watched in awed silence, Malfoy included, as Harry stood and swept from the room.

Inside, he was shaken; visibly, he was the same as always--cool, unflappable and detached. "Can anyone tell me why this particular potion is more effective than the Age Reversal Charm?" He asked, as if nothing had disrupted his class.

Not even Hermione raised her arm. Severus sighed, wanting to break down in hysterical laughter. This was new. "Miss Granger," He called, knowing that she knew the answer.

Hermione made a choking noise and looked back at his office door, then to him again. She did know, about the new aspect of his relationship with Harry. Could she, with her not too shabby powers of deduction, see his true feelings towards Harry? "Umm...Sir." She paused, looking shaken. "Er...the charm only creates a temporary, superficial change, where as the potion changes the internal and external physiology of the drinking, creating a permanent change."

"So then," He challenged, "Why do people not drink this on a regular basis, as if it were a fountain of youth?"

"Well, the potion cannot be taken without negative repercussions. If the potion is taken more than three or four times, depending on the time-shift, the shifts in physiology can become detrimental to the health of the drinker...it can cause internal organs to shut down."

"Very good, Miss Granger, though I fear the twenty points you now receive shall have been given in vain, once I've spoken with your housemate." Snape almost seemed sorry to have to take the points away, and perhaps, Hermione figured, that was why she was being given some now, in hopes of making the loss not so severe.

Class passed in silence, the pairs whispering very quietly among themselves as they gathered the ingredients. The volunteers were mainly from the Gryffindor house, in an attempt to regain points Harry had lost them. They would be taking a potion that would set them back only a few hours in age, which minimised the alterations to the physiology of the body and caused no harm to the students. Everyone had done excellent work, perhaps afraid of what Snape may do to him or her, in light of Harry's behaviour. The potions all passed (though a few of the Gryffindor concoctions barely scraped by) and the class was dismissed early, so that Snape might deal with his wayward student.

Hermione watched Snape as he piled a stack of papers on his desk and slowly headed towards the door at the back of his classroom. She was torn...knew that Harry had said he and Snape were friends, but not quite sure how well Snape would take the verbal abuse Harry had dealt. She was half-afraid one of them wasn't going to be at dinner. Ron tugged at her sleeve, casting an evil glare in the direction of Snape's office. "What's with you two? Honestly!" He muttered under his breath, and dragged her from the room.

Harry sat straight-backed in a chair next to the dormant fire, shivering, though whether from the cold, or emotion, Severus could not say. He closed the door quietly and Harry spun in the seat to see him, his face torn with worry, fear and all sorts of tangled emotions. "Severus, you know I didn't mean it."

"Of course," Severus returned stiffly, moving to stand behind the chair across from Harry. "After all, we must keep up appearances, mustn't we?" Harry nodded slowly, not at all liking the tone in Severus' voice. "In fact, it might be better if we stopped visiting one another all together. That shouldn't be difficult for you, considering the ease with which you missed our last meeting."

"Severus!" Harry protested, exasperated...he was favoured with a sneer for the use of a first name. "It isn't as if I simply forgot I was supposed to meet you last night. I was on my way to see you and Malfoy--"

"Ah, yes, I was wondering when Mister Malfoy might come into the picture."

Harry's eyes narrowed in anger. "Oh, would you stop acting like a jealous boyfriend or something and listen for a goddamned minute!?" He shouted. Severus closed his mouth and fell silently into his seat. "Malfoy stopped me on the way to your room and was on again about where I was this summer. He said that if you died it would be my fault. And I know you and Dumbledore don't believe him, but I do! And I wasn't about to go to your room right after he said that, on the chance that he might follow as I confirmed what he'd said. I have no desire to see you dead, despite what you may think. As for this morning at the table, I don't know what Draco was playing at, but he's quite lucky that I didn't do him any harm.

"And let me tell you another thing, Severus Snape, you're not going to push me away so easily! I care about you far too much to let you manipulate me. I'm sorry I said that earlier, but it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with a certain sister of yours whom you look so much like. And I expect to see you at the game tomorrow, and I expect to see you in your room Sunday and I expect you to quit acting like a sixteen year old!"

Despite himself, Severus felt the hint of a grin tugging his lips. "Yes, sir," He drawled, leaning back in his seat and fixing Harry with playfully smirking eyes.

"You're an ass," Harry growled. "I honestly don't know why I put up with you and your sister. It is quite obvious that you're all mentally unstable." There was a moment of silence. "I guess I got a little carried away, huh?"

"That might be an understatement," Severus said slowly. "But then you always like to be the alpha-male, don't you?"

Harry was a loss for words. He honestly couldn't tell whether Severus was being serious or not, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. That comment struck a chord somewhere deep, a memory sparked and gone quite quickly. He shook away the feeling of deja vu. "Alpha-m...You..." He let off in another growl. "You're always complaining about Serenity and I behaving like children and you-"

Severus could no longer contain his laughter behind his hand and was shaking from the effort. He tipped forward in his chair to lay a hand on Harry's knee, but Harry jumped away as if he'd been burnt. "I'm going, before I'm late for my next class," He said primly, grabbing his bag from the floor and trouncing from the room, "I'll just assume I've lost several dozen points and I have a detention Monday night," He added, before slamming the door.

The rest of the day dragged by in a relatively slow and boring fashion. Hermione however was looking worried, glancing over her shoulders every few moments, as if expecting Voldemort himself to pop out of the woodwork. Harry knew if she kept that up she wouldn't be in any shape to play the next day. At dinner, as the other players ate heartily and talked excitedly about the upcoming match, Hermione and Harry poked at their dinner and Ron gave little notice, making all sorts of immature sex joke and not noticing his friends lack of response.

There was a break in the noise of the hall, starting near the door and rippling all the way to the ends of the tables. Harry looked towards the door and saw the cause of the disruption. In the doorway stood Nathalie. It wasn't unusual for visitors on Friday evening, as parents and siblings often came to the school, during the long time between breaks. In fact, there were several visitors for the weekend Quidditch game. Perhaps it was the particular appearance of the visitor that had caused the sudden quiet.

Wealth oozed from every pour, in her pure, liquid silver gown that hung loosely from her body and swirled around her as she moved. Nathalie wore a circlet of platinum and diamond over her short, white locks and a large number of bracelets on both arms, covered in diamonds and sapphires. Harry noted for the first time a tattoo on her upper arm--sharp black swirls--"NS"--enhanced with sapphires that had magically been sealed into her skin.

Nathalie wasn't exactly beautiful. Certainly not in the way Hermione and Lavender were, and not in the exotic way that Fleur had been. Her nose was a little too long and hooked, her eyes a little too far apart, her lips too big for her face. But she was striking and pleasing to look at, once you grew accustomed to her.

The Slytherins were looking intently at her, no doubt thinking she were there to visit someone from their table. After all, Nathalie bore a great resemblance to Draco Malfoy, in her facial structure and her fine hair. Not for the first time, Harry wondered in the Snapes and the Malfoys were related. He would have to remember to ask Severus the next time they were alone together.

But, Nathalie's eyes didn't even stray to the Slytherin table. She focused on the Gryffindor table for a matter of seconds before her gaze met Harry's and she then made her way toward him. Ginny, who had been silent and sullen all day, followed the line of Harry's sight til she saw what he did, and then she went brilliant red in the cheeks, watching the approaching beauty. She moved like water, her gown like clouds through the sky--effortless, graceful, godlike, and stopped at Harry's elbow.

"Bon Soir, 'Arry," She greeted, and again a feeling of deja vu swept over Harry. "May I join you?"

"Of course," Harry replied, scooting to his left, causing Hermione to scoot as well, free up one space on his right. "Umm...This is Nathalie Sparrow. She's a...friend," Harry introduced. The Gryffindors took it upon themselves to introduce themselves.

"Are you still in school?" Dean asked, breaking the silence that fell afterwards.

"I am not," Nathalie told him. "I have graduated from Beauxbatons."

"Oh?" Seamus asked, now intrigued. "So you must know Madame Renardier?"

Nathalie's eyes flicked to Harry and they shared a wry smile. "You might say that. Why do you comment?"

"Well," The Irishman drawled, "Let's just say that one among our members is quite...hmm...captivated by our Mistress of Divination. We were just wondering on her marital status."

All the team members (save Harry and Hermione) were now giggling madly and Nathalie looked from them to Harry, bemused. "Have I missed something, 'Arry?" Then her eyes lit up. "Has this anything to do with the incident that occurred the day before the start of the school term?"

Harry's head thumped to the table. "Who the hell told you about that?" He groaned.

"My uncle and I are quite close." Nathalie's laughter joined that of his friends.

Ron was immediately enthralled with her unique beauty and leaned closer to her across the table. Harry rolled his eyes as Dean and Seamus both moved closer, seemingly drawn by her laughter. Harry wondered if they would be so...amiable towards her if they knew that uncle was Severus Snape.

"So, which of you are on the Quidditch team?" Nathalie asked, hoping to save Harry further embarrassment by changing the subject.

Ron's eyes lit up. "I am. A chaser. Do you play?"

"I would have been disowned, had I not," She kidded. "Actually, my uncle taught me to play as soon as I could ride a broom."

"What position do you play?" Ron asked, hanging on her every word, all but drooling over her.

"For Beauxbatons I played Keeper and Beater. When the official season begins, I will be playing Keeper for France."

Dean and Ron gasped; most of the other Gryffindors looked impressed. "You're on a national team?" Julie whispered.

"You're uncle must have taught you well," Hermione mused, also in awe of the woman.

"Oh, yes," Nathalie agreed. "After all, he played himself and was offered spots for three national teams."

"Which did he accept?" Dean asked.

"None, he had obligations. There was a war, after all," Nathalie told them, perhaps a bit shortly.

"Was he an Auror?" Seamus asked, now looking curious as well.

"Not officially. He had Auror training, but he held a more dangerous position. He worked in the field, gathering information for Albus."

"Sounds really dangerous," Neville said with a shudder. Dinner was forgotten as for the next hour and a half, the Gryffindor team (and a few others) bonded with Nathalie and each other, telling stories of their own families' involvement in the war.

They made their way to the tower at nine o'clock for a game of exploding snaps that turned into an all-out, free-for-all pillow fight which Harry suspected was started by Hermione, despite her fervent denial.

Nathalie had watched for quite a while with detached amusement before Harry decided to drag her into the game. He'd rather liked the idea of seeing a Snape behave so irrationally. And as he suspected, once Nathalie got over the initial silliness of the idea, she had a blast.

At nearly ten, the majority of the Gryffindor students were sprawled over the common room in sweaty heaps, breathing shallowly and half-heartedly swinging their pillows at neighbouring players. Harry dragged Dean and Ron off to the boy's dorm, telling the rest of his players to sleep as well, because he very well didn't want them falling off their brooms in the morning.

Feeling the same turmoil that had warred within him for the past several weeks, Harry headed off to bed, dreading sleep. Dreading dreams of Serenity and dreading ones of Severus even more, for some strange reason. Quidditch was going to be hell after this evening.

The first Quidditch game of the season was always met with much enthusiasm from the students, whether involved or not. Members of every house were crowding the stands as soon as breakfast was finished, many carrying along mugs of coffee and hot chocolate, as the air had grown crisp and cool.

The Gryffindor's were all dressed in gold and red to mark the occasion, and were carrying signs and flags and banners to wave. Ravenclaw had done much the same, in their house colours. As usual, Hufflepuff had remained neutral, and brought no paraphernalia, but the Slytherins had no such compunction. They had mainly worn bronze and blue, and waved Ravenclaw banners, probably at Draco's insistence (and he'd probably only insisted it to annoy Harry).

Lavender greeted Harry at the door to the locker room, surprising him with her appearance. She'd dyed her hair golden and streaked it with Gryffindor red, all in the name of team spirit. "I thought it prudent to show where my loyalties lie, in case there was any doubt," She explained. "Plus, I think I look tres hot!"

Harry smiled, in spite of the mass of wriggling worms in his stomach. "I agree, Lavender. You look so amazing, in fact, that I predict all the men, and perhaps some of the women will be to preoccupied with watching you, that they'll forget there's a game, and no one will even notice when I catch the Snitch."

"Damn right," Said Lavender, tossing her colourful hair over her shoulder and smirking at Harry.

Nathalie accompanied Ron and Hermione to the field and met Harry at the locker room to present him with a cup of coffee, as he had missed breakfast (having woken up late). He was still getting dressed; his Quidditch robes hanging open to reveal a plain white turtleneck beneath.

"That's a pretty charm," Hermione commented, noting the Snitch necklace that fell low against his chest. She picked it up and lifted it to her gaze, noting the inscription. "Wow, those are real stones."

"Who got it for you?" Ron asked, curiously taking in the bauble that probably cost more than his entire wardrobe.

Harry flushed red and ducked his head, taking the necklace from Hermione's grasp and tucking in down his shirt. "A friend."

"Oh, another one of those things you can't tell us about," Ron sighed.

"Sorry about that," Harry said meekly. "I prom--"

"We know, we know. You'll tell us as soon as you're able. It's fine," Ron assured him, shedding his school robe in favour for his Quidditch robe. Hermione had already managed to switch hers and grab her broom from a peg on the wall

"Quit giving Harry a hard time, Ron. He's got to concentrate on today's game," Hermione chastised, tugging him away from their friend. "We'll see you after the game, Nathalie."

The older girl nodded and disappeared from the room. She found the zigzagging staircase that led up to the Professor's booth and ascended to the top. The booth was crowded, with only a couple seats left empty for additional spectators.

"Oncle Severus," Nathalie called, drawing stares from all the Professors who looked at her as though she were crazy. "I have a seat among the Gryffindors, but I was rather hoping that you would allow me to sit with you."

Severus raised a brow at her, on the verge of a glare, for addressing him as she had. "I imagine it could do no harm, now." He knew his niece's love for causing a scene. The girl craved attention unlike any person he'd ever met and she went out of her way to make people notice her.

Nathalie let out a little malicious giggle and squeezed among the teachers to sit at her uncle's side. "Sorry, couldn't resist. I didn't only come because of Harry Potter, you know. I do care somewhat about you, too."

"You could have fooled me," Severus muttered darkly. Nathalie merely smiled and linked her arm through her uncle's and leaned her head upon his shoulder.

"Ma mere wanted me to try to talk to you about a certain boy who lived," Nathalie whispered, her lips close to his ear. "She's afraid, and I agree, that you are trying to lie to him and yourself about certain...feelings you have for him."

"Now is not the time nor the place for this sort of discussion," Severus hissed at her.

"Oh?" She lifted her head and arched a brow that mirrored his own. "And when would be an appropriate time, Severus?"

"You little brat. Never is a very good time for me. I won't discuss this with you, nor will I discuss it with that harpy Serenity!" Severus growled. He noted out of the corner of his eye that Minerva, Filius and Vicki were watching him with avid interest and that Albus was pretending not to watch him, laughing silently. "Do you mind?" He asked, spinning on them angrily.

"Mother's not all that bad," Nathalie said, trying to sound sincere, but failing miserably.

"Nathalie Sparrow Snape, listen to me: There is nothing for us to discuss. You and your mother are playing a foolish, useless, dangerous game with him and with me and I implore you to stop."

Nathalie's lips formed a pretty pout and she slouched back in her seat. "We'll make you see reason yet," She vowed.

"I don't see how two people entirely devoid of reason could hope to convey it to another." He turned away from her and saw Harry leading his team from the Gryffindor changing room. "Oh look, the game's about to begin."

His niece narrowed her eyes and gave him a trademark Snape glare, crossing her arms over her chest. "Don't think you've ended this conversation so easily, Uncle," She warned, then turned her attention to the game as well.

The game was mildly entertaining, as far as Quidditch matches go. Everyone of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw houses were wildly amused to see Hermione on a broom, but they soon learned that she could play as well as she could study. The Ravenclaw's stole the Quaffle at the start, and scored twice before Gryffindor was able to keep possession of the ball. Thirty minutes into the game, Ravenclaw was ahead, 120-90.

Harry sat far above the crowd, his broom hovering steadily. Beside him, her leg brushing his every so often, sat Cho, narrow, slanted eyes darting around the pitch. Her pretty long dark hair was held back with two braids, but the wind still whipped it in her face. Cho had grown prettier with every year, but fortunately, Harry no longer felt drawn to her. If anything he was repulsed by her.

Cho loathed him. There was no other word for it. Hated him with a passion that even Draco lacked (though now Harry was questioning if it really was hate that inspired Draco's passion.) Ever since the Tri-wizard tournament, it had been clear every time she looked at him; she blamed him for Cedric's death. In fact, Harry doubted that Cho could hate him more, even if he'd killed Cedric himself.

At the same time, it was obvious that she wanted him. He could read it on her face as plain as if she spoke it out loud. She wanted to fuck him, and then she wanted to kill him. Now, she gripped the broom tightly in her hands, and moved subtly against it, as if she were riding it like a body and with each undulation, she brushed against him, a smirk curving her full lips.

Harry frowned, moving away imperceptibly. She cooed, following him, rubbing her body against his. A hand left the broom, and her fingers riffled through his hair. There were times when Harry was really sorry that he'd ever been attracted to women. This was one of those times. Her caress was the mockery of a lover's touch; her tone more leering and suggestive than Malfoy's. Harry jerked away from the touch, and in doing so, caught sight of the Snitch, near the Ravenclaw goal post, flying right towards them.

"Bugger off, Cho," He muttered, causing her eyes to widen first in shock and then in delight. She faced him more fully, looking in the opposite direction of the Snitch and raised her hand, as if to gesture, while she opened her mouth to speak. Harry waited til she was fully distracted, then sped away, leaving her stunned and motionless for the crucial moment that gave Harry a lead.

The Snitch veered its course when it sensed him coming near, but his Firebolt was far too fast for the little ball to out fly. Behind him, he could hear furious cursing of his Ravenclaw counterpart, but he ignored her, zooming towards his glittering goal. There was wild cheering from the students in the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and professor's bleachers. The Ravenclaw's seemed anxious and the Slytherins were hissing and calling out insults towards Harry, obviously hoping to disrupt his concentration.

Too late for that. He leaned forward just a bit more, his hand stretching as far as it could, fingers brushing golden wings. Against his chest, he could feel his necklace fluttering in time with his heart. His fingers curled and pulled and then he closed the Snitch in his fist. Cho shrieked with dismay, but the sound was drowned out by the eruption of victory chants of "Go, go Gryffindor!"

Enthusiastic teammates were racing up to his level, crowding around Harry in a circle. Housemates had raced onto the field and were waiting for Harry to come down. Severus alone was quit in the professor's tower. Dumbledore and Minerva were beaming and clapping, the other teachers were talking excitedly and cheering. Nathalie whistled and stomped and screamed Harry's name. Surprisingly, Harry heard her (the girl could yell) and turned to see them. He raised a brow at the fact that Severus remained silent and Severus raised a brow in return.

Slowly, sarcasm rolling off him in waves, Severus raised his hands and brought them together gently, tiredly. Harry stuck out a tongue and the look Severus gave him was clearly "Oh, very mature." And for a brief instance, Harry missed the days at Snape Manor, where he could spend all day with Severus, without worrying what everyone would think.

The party afterward, to which Nathalie was invited, in Gryffindor tower was as wild as usual. One would have thought, with Fred and George gone, it would be more difficult to have a thoroughly good time. Not so. Ron made his brothers proud, heading back before everyone else and going to the kitchen. The house-elves were all too eager to shower the inhabitants of Gryffindor tower with all sorts of edible goodies, butterbeer and pumpkin juice.

Dean and Seamus used their wands to set off Filibuster's fireworks; Lavender and Parvati were telling other's their fortune in the corner. The win hadn't been spectacular, like so many of Harry's captures, but the Gryffindors were happy to have won none the less. A nice way to start off the Quidditch season, and to inspire just a bit of fear in the other teams.

Around midnight, the younger students began to trickle off to bed. A short while later, some of the more reserved older students followed. By one-thirty, only Harry, Hermione, Ron and Nathalie remained. "I really must be going, 'Arry," Nathalie said, standing and stretching. "I 'ave promised my mother that I would try and talk some since into a mutual friend."

Harry felt dread spreading in his stomach. "What kind of sense?" Nathalie shook her head. "Have you taken into consideration that that mutual friend might be better off left alone?"

"Oh, you're as bad as he iz!" Nathalie snapped. "We're trying to do you a favour 'ere!"

"Nathalie, it's useless, okay? Just let it go. Let us deal with this on our own." Harry's eyes were wide and pleading.

Nathalie ran her fingers through his hair and smiled sadly. "I would, if I thought you two would actually attempt to work 'srough it. The truth ees, you're both far too stubborn and proud for your own good." Harry let out an annoyed sound and Nathalie turned to his housemates. "Ron, Hermione, it has been a pleasure to meet you both. I hope we can visit togezer again soon." She shot Harry a look that dared him to try and stop her, and swept from the room.

Harry cringed, looking to his friends, knowing there would be questions. Ron, however, had a dazed and dreamy statement on his face, holding his chin in his hand and staring at the portrait hole. "She's amazing." Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

Harry wondered for a brief moment if the Snape women were part Veela. And was there such a thing as a male Veela? Because if so, Draco might--wait...all thought in Harry's head stopped as he reviewed his thoughts and noted that yes, he had referred to Malfoy as Draco. Then he found himself trying to remember when that had happened. With a groan, Harry fell to the couch, burying his face in his hands. Things just kept getting more complicated.

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and shrugged, and patted his arm consolingly. "I'm going to bed," Harry bit out. What he really wanted to do was to intercept Nathalie on her mission, but he was quite afraid of 1.) Running into Dr--Malfoy; and 2.) Seeming all to eager to dispute what Nathalie was saying, thus convincing Severus that what she was saying was true. A lose-lose situation. So, while Nathalie potentially caused a great deal of trouble, Harry dragged himself up to the boy's dorm, Ron followed, still looking far away.

When they arrived in their room, Dean, Neville and Seamus were all on Ron's bed, as it was closest to the open window. Pleasant breezes swept through the room, rustling the curtains around each bed and giving the room an airy, underwater feel. "Letter came for you," Seamus said, holding up a plain white parchment.

Harry and Ron came to set on the bed with the others, Harry taking the letter disinterestedly. He broke the seal of plain silver wax and unrolled the paper, the other's leaning in to read along.

Harry,

Congratulations on your win this afternoon. I would have much liked to tell you this at the game, but I'm not sure that would have gone over so well. My sister's eldest spent most of the time irritating the hell out of me, though I'm sure that comes as no great surprise to you. Whatever she may have said to you, Harry, ignore it. The girl has less sense than her mother does, if that is at all possible. Anyway, I have something for you--nothing big, but something I think you'd like none-the-less. I hope you can come by soon.

S.

"Oooh, S," Seamus drawled playfully, nudging Harry in the ribs. "For Serenity!"

"Would you all give it a rest. I *really* don't have a thing for her. I swear!" Harry said, rolling up the scroll before the others could read any more into it...or notice the handwriting from Potions. Dean rolled his eyes and Seamus winked.

"Well, Harry, if you're not interested, I wouldn't mind takin' a chance with her," Seamus teased.

"Go for it, Seamus," Harry said with a laugh. He fell back into the sheets. "I'm sure she's really eager to date a guy half her age."

"But if it's not Serenity, then who is it?" Dean asked. Ron and Seamus looked contemplative. "S...Ooooohhh...I know! Sybill!" All the boys erupted into laughter.

"No, no, please!" Harry begged. He buried his face in the pillows.

"'Harry,'" Seamus began, taking on a whispy, feminine voice. "'Harry, I see great passion in your future...with a crazy old bat.'"

"Thank god she's gone!" Neville said.

"Sirius," Seamus said with a wicked giggle.

"Ewww!" Neville gasped, plugging his ears with his fingers.

"That's really sick, Seamus, even for you," Dean accused. Seamus shrugged and nodded his agreement. "He's like Harry's father! But what about. Oh...What about...ewww...Snape!"

"What's his name, anyway?" Seamus asked. "Sev...sav...sar...I don't have a bloody clue!"

"Sardines," Dean said, scrunching up his nose. "Foul, just like him!"

"Severus," Ron spat the name, sounding disgusted with himself for speaking it out loud. Harry fought not to cringe at his friend's reaction.

"Double S, then," Seamus commented. "Twice as likely." Harry didn't mind the guess, knowing they'd never honestly expect such a thing--after all, they didn't know Harry was attracted to men.

Ron, however, too great offence. "What about Seamus, then?" He spat angrily.

"Ron, its just a joke," Harry placated. "And just for the record, you're all insane."

After that, the conversation drifted away from Harry to Quidditch, then to girls and Harry half-heartedly commented on Parvati's breasts, just to get them off his case. Harry hadn't been sleeping very well, but the game, Nathalie and the talk with the boys (not to mention the absence of Serenity) had worn him out and calmed him at the same time. And while the other boys waxed poetical about Lavender's eyes, Harry drifted off in a peaceful sleep.

Sunday was always a lazy day at Hogwarts. Students slept in late finished their homework in their dorms and the castle was serenely quiet. Blinking sleep out o his eyes, Harry glanced at his bedside clock, only to realise he wasn't in his bed. He rolled over and came face to face with Ron, still sleeping peacefully.

For just a moment, Harry watched his best friend. It was true that Severus more than filled that role, but Ron was comfortable, familiar and would, no matter way, always hold an important place in Harry's heart...Ron was his first friend and the one to help him endure Snape (and Malfoy) for several years. Plus, there wasn't that pesky attraction getting in the way.

True, Ron was good looking. Amazingly bright blue eyes, that cute up-turned nose, full lips and a light dusting of freckles. Not to mention flame-red, fine, long hair. It had grown out longer than usual and fell into his eyes. Harry reached up and brushed it aside and smiled, realising he'd never touched Ron's hair before. It was coarse and soft at the same time.

Ron's eyes blinked open and he looked puzzled, scooting backwards. "Harry, my name doesn't begin with an S."

Harry laughed. "Relax, I'm not putting the moves on you." Ron smirked and brought his hands up between them, his fingers wrapping round Harry's robes and drawing him close.

"You saying that I'm not worthy of the affection of the Boy Who Lived?" Ron asked, his lips coming dangerously close to Harry's.

"I would never dare," Harry whispered, brushing his nose against Ron's. "I just wouldn't want our roommates waking up and catching us in the act.

Ron laughed, releasing Harry and moving back. "You ever gonna tell me who it is you're so in love with?"

Harry shook his head. "Ron...you would laugh. And laugh. And when I finally convinced you I was seriously telling you the truth, you'd kick my ass."

Arching a brow, Ron rolled to put his back to Harry. "If it's all that bad, why are you in love?"

Harry blinked at the question, before realising Ron must have never been in love before. "I don't really have a choice in the matter."

"Yeah, but how do you even know what love is?" Ron whispered.

Harry shrugged helplessly. "I guess you just...know. I think it just clicks. Once you fall in love, you don't need to ask that question." He rolled off the bed, looking distinctly rumpled. He pulled a fresh pair of jeans and tee from his trunk and began to get dressed. "Ron, I gotta--"

"Go, yeah...I know."

"Ron, I'll only be gone a while," He said, casting his eyes to the floor and sighing.

Ron nodded, but his eyes were distant. "You'd better take your cloak...you don't want anyone catching you." Harry smiled his thanks as he finished dressing and dug out his cloak.

"I'll be back soon," Harry promised, then slid out. He put on his cloak after the door was closed and crept silently down the stairs and to the common room. There were only a couple people in the room, reading and playing wizard's chess. Harry would have to challenge Ron to a game and show him how he'd improved.

The halls of Hogwarts were eerily silent. The grey lady hovered near the great hall, looking sadly out the front doors and Harry felt a pang of sympathy for her, and wondered briefly why she never spoke. A few younger students were playing football further down the corridor and Harry had to dodge as on student bounced the ball off his head, right in Harry's path. He hoped sincerely that Filch wouldn't catch them.

As usual, the dungeons were cool and damp. A couple of shady looking Slytherins had a younger housemate cornered with their wands and seemed to be daring him to enchant a tiny goblin statue to raid the girls' dorm and steal their under-garments.

Harry shook his head in silent laughter and approached Severus' door. He rapped gently and waited. It was nearly 1:30, so there was no doubt that Severus was awake. After a moment, the door opened.

Severus was in a seat near the fireplace, which for the first time sported a lit fire. He was reading a large book, sipping tea, and still in his dressing gown. His hair hadn't been brushed and tumbled around him a riot of waves. His bottom lip was jutted in concentration, and in that moment, he looked very soft and feminine. "Good afternoon," He said. He gestured to a nearby chair and summoned it to the fireplace.

"Afternoon. Did Nathalie drive you crazy last night?"

"Only in the two seconds it took me to realise it was her and slam the door in her face," Severus replied evenly. Harry smiled.

"I just can't imagine how you came out of that family," Harry said.

Severus offered Harry a cup of tea and sat aside his book. "I shall take that as a compliment. Just as I can't imagine you being related to those horrid Muggles...or James, for that matter." He took a piece of parchment from the middle of his book and held it out for Harry. "For you."

Harry unfolded it and a huge smile of recognition spread over his face. It was very old, and blank, but Harry took out his wand, tapped it to the paper and said, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good." At his words, a map of the castle appeared before his eyes and tiny dots, labelled with names began to move around.

Looking up, Harry found Severus watching from behind a curtain of hair. His dark eyes were indiscernible in the shadows. Both knew what this meant, for Severus to hand over the map that had caused him much trouble, both in his youth and adulthood. With a hit of a smile, Harry remembered the map insulting Snape, remembered the terror he'd felt when Snape had spotted the map on the stairs. Remember that Crouch had taken said map.

"How did you get it?" Harry asked.

"Well, I knew you'd been on the stairs that night," Severus said, tipping his head to the side. His hair fell away from his face and Harry was pinned by that gaze. He nodded his agreement. A hint of a smile toyed with Severus' lips. "I was supposed to search the room before the Ministry arrived and when I saw that. I know the bloody officials would give it to Albus and that he'd just give it back to you. You can clearly see that wouldn't have worked to my advantage, so I took it first."

"But that means...you had it all last year," Harry realised, with a groan. "That's how you managed to--"

"Keep you out of trouble, and more to the point, alive?" Severus finished, "Yes."

Harry blushed. "I'm sorry. I know you were just helping. Its hard to see it that way when you make a point of letting me know how much you hate me."

"I don't hate you," Severus murmured with quiet intensity. "I've never hated you."

Swallowing hard, Harry tried to collect the thoughts running wild in his head. "But, you've...come on, Severus. The first day of class whom do you embarrass and take points from? I was convinced you were trying to kill me! And let's not forget the Shrieking Shack incident. I've never seen anyone so angry!"

"And why shouldn't I have been angry?" Severus demanded, eyes sparkling to life as he leaned forward in his chair. "Out of beds and in town hours after curfew, hanging out with a werewolf and a convicted murderer, who had tried to kill me in that same location fourteen years before!"

"Severus, I didn't mean to piss you off," Harry murmured. "And how was I even to know what to be prepared for when no one was honest with me? I didn't know that they'd tried to kill you and no one wanted to tell me about Sirius being secret keeper. You were all so busy protecting me from the truth that you may have got me killed. Lucky thing Sirius wasn't a Death Eater." Something suddenly occurred to Harry. "Why didn't you know about Wormtail?"

Severus let a cold smile cross his face. "Oh, Peter has always been a coward. He wasn't marked til the night Lily and James were killed, so that James couldn't find out til it was too late.

And, while most of us are from wealthy, pure blood families, Peter was not. He would wear his mask around us, stay to the shadows and go by Wormtail. I had no reason to know that it was Peter. No reason to suspect a Gryffindor."

"But then why did you think Sirius would do it, if you never saw him at a meeting?" Harry asked. He frowned, "And Sirius was a Gryffindor."

A smirk, one that reminded Harry of the Snape he used to hate and fear, flickered across Severus' face. "I don't know what Remus and Black have told you about the group dynamics once upon a time...Or how they all came to be friends."

"Only nothing," Harry said, just a little bitterly.

"I'm not at all surprised," Severus said, sitting back in his chair and taking another sip of his tea.

"Well, are you going to tell me?"

Severus smiled slowly, his eyes trailing over Harry's body. "Let me just say, that I never suspected Sirius to be the traitor until it was 'revealed' that he was, after your parent's deaths."

"Who did you think it was?"

"Remus." Severus said the name simply, as if it were obvious, but to Harry, it certainly wasn't.

"Why would you think that?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "I thought we covered the whole 'werewolf, tried to kill me thing' just a moment ago."

Now Harry narrowed his eyes, expression mimicking the other man's, without realising it. "I guess I just thought you were intelligent enough to know that man and monster are two very distinct beings."

"I wasn't at the time. And to answer your earlier question, and clear up some confusion regarding Sirius Black, the Sorting Hat did not place him in Gryffindor." Severus seemed pleased by the dumbfounded look on Harry's face and continued. "Black came from Russia, and received an invitation to join Hogwarts and Durmstrang. His parents, being eternally stupid, allowed him to choose, and he chose Durmstrang. He went there until his third year.

"The summer after, his parents were quite disturbed to hear of the emphasis the institution had on the Dark Arts. They took Sirius out quite against his will and pleaded for Dumbledore to take him in here. And Dumbledore, also being eternally stupid, accepted him. Not only that, but he didn't want to risk Black being placed in Slytherin, with his already vast knowledge of dark curses and charms, and therefore placed him directly in Gryffindor, without consulting the Sorting Hat."

Severus paused for a long time, taking a drink of his tea and relaxing back into his chair. Harry was afraid that he wouldn't continue, and was on the edge of his seat with anticipation when Severus spoke again. "He and your father became instant friends, which pretty much pushed Peter out of the picture. Lupin was afraid the same would happen to him, and tried to hate Black, but he found he loved him instead. I think everyone in the damn school realised it except for Black. It was a long-standing goal of those do-gooders Hufflepuffs to get them together.

"Anyway, over the years, Black and James grew closer and while they remained friends with Lupin, it was clear that they didn't share the same bond with him. I think what made it worse was the fact that James knew how Lupin felt, and didn't do anything to ease his friend's pain."

Severus shrugged, as if he hadn't just revealed this huge secret, one that no one had ever bothered to share with Harry before. "I guess I just assumed that Remus was bitter. When a person experiences unrequited love, he will do foolish things. But then, when Black was imprisoned, I figured that it had been his plan to get close to your father all along, so he could betray him in the end."

Again, he shrugged, and stood, gesturing to Harry's untouched teacup. "Not thirsty, I see. Well, I'm sure your friends are expecting you. Should you wish to return, use the map and the cloak. I don't think you'd like anymore late night run-ins with Mister Malfoy." Severus disappeared into the little kitchen and Harry considered himself dismissed. With a blank expression, clutching his map and wrapping himself in invisibility, Harry escaped.

Harry didn't go back to see Severus that evening, nor did he spend the time with his friends. Instead, using his cloak and newly reacquired map, he made his way up to the Astronomy Tower. Late at night, when even the young lovers had gone to bed, Harry found himself at the highest point of the castle, cloak discarded at his side, wand and map forgotten.

The early fall night air was crisp and windy, stirring through Harry's longish locks. His eyes drooped, the wind stinging them, making it difficult to keep them open. After a few moments, Harry stopped trying to fight it, and let his eyes close, let himself relax into the wall and drift off.

He was back in the cave, but the rain had slowed to a mere trickle. A steady stream ran down the front of the rock face, puddling in the mud and running towards the fire in a mini river. The fire was strong enough to resist the water though, crackling merely, tossing up sparks and filling the cave with thick smoke.

Outside the cave, the grass had begun to grow again, in patches here and there and several animals stirred on the horizon. Serenity was sitting at the mouth of the cave, legs drawn up to her chest. She still looked bedraggled, her hair in tangles around her dirty face and her robe shredded to pieces. Streaks of livid red ran down her cheek and her bare shoulder, looking suspiciously like blood.

"It's who we are." She murmured, shifting and baring her upper arm where a double "S" twisted against her skin, accented by rubies. "And that," She pointed across the cave, where a silver and gold Slytherin snake was slithering towards them. "Is you."

"Don't go out there. She'll kill you if you do."

Harry felt an odd rush of anger and resentment at Serenity. "I thought you told me I should go out...You know Serenity, all this cryptic nonsense is just that--nonsense!"

"There's a battle, out there," Serenity whispered. "They all want you Harry, for one reason or another...what your body, your mind, your life. They want to use you, to dominate you. You have to hide from them."

"I don't want to hide!" Harry shouted in anger. "I want to fight them!"

Serenity reached for him, wrapping a surprisingly strong hand around his arm. She dragged him close until their faces were inches apart and hissed, "It won't do any good. Hide, here, and never come out, or be ready to give in, Harry...to let it happen...to let them have you. Because they will."

Outside, a huge raven swept low, peeking madly at a lioness. The lioness had been scratching at a dragon, which spat small bursts of fire at both animals. "Okay, I get the symbolism," Harry muttered wryly. "But it doesn't matter. I'm the Boy Who Lived. I've faced Voldemort every year since I was eleven and I've won every time. I won't give up now, especially when I have so much to lose!"

"Suit yourself," Serenity muttered. She arched her back and fell forward onto all fours, transforming into a bear and lumbering out to join the other animals.

A shadow fell over him and his eyes closed at once. Soft lips pressed against his, hesitant and gentle, but so lovely. Harry sighed, letting those lips have their way, sliding against his over and over, nipping and sucking. Warm breath ghosted over his cheek and mouth and then drew back.

Harry opened his eyes.

Draco was smiling hesitantly back at him, almost sweetly, his grey eyes wide with genuine emotion. Harry didn't say a thing, or draw away. He took in the situation. Still on the tower, Draco straddling him, his light weight next to nothing. It made the Slytherin seem very frail and insubstantial as the wind. At the same time, his body was warm, shielding Harry from the cool night air. It was just Harry's luck that Draco was the only other person in the school who would visit the tower at this time of night.

"Hi," Draco said hesitantly, tipping his head and leaning in again.

Harry didn't smile, or try to appear encouraging in any way. "Hi," He replied, as neutrally as possible. At this moment, Draco was like nothing Harry'd ever seen before. He was gloriously beautiful and very feminine with the moonlight reflecting off his white hair and casting shadows over his fair skin. And he looked so meek and unthreatening that he seemed a different person entirely from Draco Malfoy. Perhaps the most beautiful person Harry'd ever seen.

"Is this okay?" Draco asked, sliding one arm hesitantly around Harry's neck and pressing their torsos together. His other arm snaked up and he looped his hands behind Harry, leaning in to nuzzle their cheeks together. His skin was amazingly soft.

To both their surprise, Harry nodded, and afraid that Draco might miss the movement, said "Yes." He was rewarded with a delighted smile from the smaller boy.

"Can I kiss you?" Draco asked, swooping in to peck Harry on the lips quickly, a sparkle of the old, devious Draco in his eyes.

Harry smirked. "No." Draco shrugged and dipped his head, drawing Harry closer. He laid his head on Harry's chest, above his heart and Harry relaxed, wrapping his arms loosely around Draco's back.

He felt safe in that moment, encircled in Draco's arms, covered in the slender body. He wondered for a second how things would have turned out had be befriended Draco from the start. It came in a flash. Sorted perhaps into Slytherin, never really knowing Ron and Hermione. Planning schemes in the Slytherin dungeons, sharing dark secrets late at night. Really, who would better understand Harry's dark side than a Slytherin?

He would have known Draco better than anyone else, and that might have done well for both of them. Perhaps it would have done all the Slytherins some good, given them some faith in their own ability to break away from stereotypes, had the Boy Who Lived been sorted into their house. He would have had Draco to hold him like this on all his empty, lonely nights, when nightmares gripped him, or sleep eluded him.

It was strange to think that while his dear friend Ron was so kind, generous and caring, he withheld this basic comfort, lacked this tenderness and was unable to express himself to Harry physically. That is should be Draco, cold, distant and so cruel who could care for him so deeply and thoughtlessly. He wasn't going to question it, no.

"Draco," He whispered, tentative to break the silence. He spoke so softly that he wasn't sure Draco had heard him. Too afraid to speak again, Harry realised it was just as well that Draco hadn't acknowledged him. He'd just resigned himself to the silence when Draco's head burrowed lazily into Harry's chest.

"Yes?"

Harry's heart fluttered madly. It would have been better if Draco hadn't heard. He could lie, make something up. He could pretend that he hadn't heard Draco. But he had been put in Gryffindor for his bravery and he'd faced Malfoy countless times before. "You can kiss me, now."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Draco and he tensed. He drew away, looking at once hopeful and doubtful. Harry felt a spasm of guilt, kissing Draco while he loved Severus. But then, Severus didn't love him, and besides, they couldn't be together. This, he was allowed to have. This wasn't against the rules. This was safe and perfect in a perfectly bittersweet way.

All doubts were silenced when Draco kissed him. His lips were petal soft and the exact flavour a rose would be, if it tasted the way it smelled. He didn't try to deepen the kiss, and neither did Harry. It was so nice. It lasted only slightly longer than the first, and then Draco pulled away and cuddled against Harry again.

"No promises," Draco murmured into Harry's cloak.

"No," Harry agreed. No promises.

Slowly, Harry drifted off to sleep again. When he woke sometime later, light was creeping along the horizon and Harry realised he'd slept better than he had in weeks. Draco was no where in sight and for a minute, Harry was sure it had just been part of his strange dream. His body was still warm with borrowed heat and that was the only reason that he believed that Draco had really been there. But that didn't change a thing.

Severus should have known better, really, than to get out of bed on his birthday. He'd never felt very strongly about birthdays, negatively or positively. His parents had never made too big a deal of them. They bought him gifts and invited close friends and family, but they never really had grand parties. They were always quiet, happy days, shared with loved ones. In his early teens, he'd informed them that he'd rather not celebrate his birthdays. His parents continued to give him gifts, but had foregone cakes and guests.

For the past several years, he'd received a gift from his mother and a card from his sister and her family each year and they were the only reason he remembered he had a birthday. It wasn't that Severus was afraid of getting old. Quite the contrary. Growing old was natural and only wisdom and experience was to be gained, really. Many great wizards reached their prime in their later years. Just look at Merlin, or Gandalf, or Dumbledore.

Besides, Severus wasn't old. Not by wizarding standards, not even by Muggle standards. That evening, at 11:59, Severus would turn thirty-two. He'd yet to take his first dose of the age reversal potion. He wouldn't need to do that for another thirty years at least. No, he was definitely in his prime, and would stay that way for well over a hundred years. So really, in the grand scheme of things, the sixteen years between Harry and himself was nothing.

Breakfast was uneventful, as were his first two classes of the morning. Those in the staff who knew it was his birthday didn't mention it, just as he would never mention there's. It wasn't until the third class of the day, double potions with Sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins that Severus regretted being born.

He was halfway through a lecture on the latest potion, a knock came upon the door. Severus narrowed his eyes in that direction, as if his glare could make the person on the other side go away. It didn't work...the person knocked again. "Come in!" He barked.

A girl swung the door open, peeking in nervously. She was dressed in a multi-coloured robe and a striped jester's hat to match. Her shoes curled up at the toes with bells that rang as she stepped in the room. "Urm...Mister Severus Snape?"

This was not good. "What do you want?" Severus nearly growled. Most students shrunk back and only Malfoy was brave enough to snicker. Harry ducked so that no one would see his laughter. The woman trembled.

"I...uh...a me-m-message to deliver, sir," The telegram-er-girl squeaked. It was obvious she had once been his student. "I'll just get on with it, then." She raised her hands and began to clap a rhythm. Throwing all caution to the wind, Harry joined in. Severus shot him a warning glare, but the damage had been done. Now, tremendously amused, the other students were clapping, too.

"I don't know but I've been told!" She sang, the students echoing. "Severus here is getting old! Look at how he's getting red. Guess he should have stayed in bed! Sound off: Happy. Sound off: Birthday. Bring it on down: Happy Birthday, to you!"

Severus ad to fight the strong urge to strangle the girl. Instead, he let his head fall into his hands and swallowed his murderous thoughts. "Is that all?" He demanded. The girl nodded and scampered from the room. Severus thought about giving up for a moment, and just crawling back into bed. Instead, he straightened out, pushed his hair from his eyes and glared at Harry--who resisted the urge to stick out his tongue. "Five points from Gryffindor," He snapped. "For being an obnoxious prat."

Harry smiled serenely. "Yes professor." Severus glowered.

To say that his birthday had been horrible would have been a gross understatement. Word of his singing telegram had spread faster than the whole boggart scandal. Class after class took it upon themselves to re-write the lyrics in an entirely unflattering manner. Not even threat of losing points, limbs or life was enough to silence them.

Sadly, Severus didn't' know which of his few loved ones to blame the whole fiasco on, however, as all were capable of such an act. Serenity made it pretty clear she was the one behind it when she stopped him in the staff room with her own version of the song.

At dinner, he received a card from Brigitte-Marie, begging him to come to her house and try the cake she'd baked him. A birthday party at Serenity's house was less than appealing, but after dinner he dragged himself across the grounds til he reached the Snape's home.

It wasn't until ten in the evening that he made it back to his quarters, ready to drop asleep. But no, a light glowed golden beneath his door, telling him that someone was inside. With a sigh, Severus pushed the door open and entered, ready to kick said someone out.

But Harry was the only one there, sitting at the sofa, a wrapped present on his lap and a tiny cake on the coffee table. The cake was clearly decadent. A layer of spongy chocolate cake, followed by a layer of hot liquid fudge. Another layer of cake, thick chocolate icing and green letters that read "Happy Birthday, Severus." Thirty-two green candles floated above the cake; enchanted so they didn't drip, but sparkled in an endless rainbow of colours.

There was a small, clearly happy smile on Harry's lips. The colours of the flames scattered across his face and Severus had never wanted to kiss him so badly. And it was his birthday, so he did. Slowly, as not to frighten Harry, he moved to stand between his legs. Harry looked up at him expectantly and did not shrink back. He blinked once and tried to swallow. Heard his heart beating wildly in his chest and hoped to god that Severus couldn't.

Severus caught Harry's chin in his hand, tipping it back just a bit, locking eyes with his student. He smiled one of his rare smiles and then he was lowering his face, long, dark hair falling around Harry, sliding along his cheek. It blocked out the light, creating a tiny world that contained just the two of them, and that was all they needed.

Harry held his breath, afraid to move and break the spell. Eyes drifted close and Severus drew nearer still and then soft, arm lips brushed against his lightly and he had to hold back a whimper. The lips pressed harder, more insistent and Harry had to grip the cushion to keep from grabbing Severus.

Then Severus drew back and Harry fought not to look disappointed. He'd seen more passion in the kiss between Severus and Serenity. It was a friendly touch, nothing more. His eyes fell to his lap where he was twisting his robes into a bunch.

"Thank you," Severus whispered with a serene smile.

"For what?" Harry asked, flushed, and still slightly amazed. Severus didn't answer, but moved to sit across from Harry on the other side of the table. "Well, now it's your turn to make a wish."

It was more a plea than a wish, the keep him safe thought without delay at Harry's words. With a deep breath, he blew out every last candle. Harry shifted uncomfortably on the couch and lifted the present in his lap. He offered it hesitantly to Severus. "What do you get for the man who wants for nothing?" Harry puzzled out loud, and Severus could tell that he was worried. He really was difficult to buy for.

Severus pulled at the ribbon and watched the paper fall away to reveal a box of midnight blue and forest green swirls accepted by silver curly-Q's and a single silver clasp. He flipped it open and in the blue velvet cushion lay a guardian ring. They were rare and expensive and each was unique. The ring was actually ten different bands; each looped through another and were meant to be rearranged.

Each band was of a different material and whichever material the middle band, the other rings appeared. The different bands held different powers, and the wearer was granted the power of the middle band, as well--Bloodstone healed any minor injuries and stopped heavy bleeding; Citrine filled the wearer with hope and provided warmth; Emerald aided in defeating the Imperious; Opal for invisibility; Moonstone gave psychic abilities; Onyx protected against bad dreams; Diamond created a hard, protective shell around the wearer's skin; Sapphire was an easily enchanted portkey that could break through almost any magical barrier; while wearing the Topaz, a the wearer couldn't die; and Turquoise warned against danger and protected from poison.

Unique because the buyer could select which stones they wanted for the rings, depending on which properties and powers they want to be endowed with. Rare because it was difficult to find stones large and flawless enough to be carved into rings that came from highly magical areas of the world.

Harry was biting his lip, watching Severus in anticipation. The silence of the older man was driving him insane. "Well, do you like it?"

That broke Severus from his daze. "Where did you get it?"

Harry shrugged, as though it were nothing. "That doesn't matter. I figured that since you're going to be risking your life on a regular basis now, and since I'm not entirely convinced that Draco's lying, I wanted you to be protected. And before you say it, I know you don't need me to protect you. And if I can't be there to protect you, then this can be."

"Harry," Severus sounded very serious, but not angry. "I don't want you to be concerned with my safety, or anyone else's, for that matter, other than your own. Your safety is paramount."

"I know that!" Harry shouted and immediately regretted losing his temper. "Look, I know you all think that, but I don't." He leaned across the table, gripping Severus' wrists tightly and said, with great intensity. "I value your life a great deal, Severus."

Severus broke Harry's grip, cupping the younger man's cheek in his hand. Harry tilted his head and leaned in closer, meeting that powerful gaze without flinching. "Harry...I do like you're gift. I shall wear it, and I will think of you."

That night, as he lay in bed, Harry's lips burned with the memory of Severus' touch. He felt a yearning stronger than ever before. He had the sudden, powerful urge to kiss Severus. To hold him down and just kiss him for hours, exploring the world hidden behind the sneer.

With a sigh, Harry rolled over, staring at his bedside clock. It read nearly two hours from when he'd laid down. He was getting tired of the insomniac scene, really. He flopped onto his back, pushed away the sweaty covers and swung himself out of bed. Might as well get something done.

Harry grabbed up his schoolbooks, a quill and parchment, then headed down to the common room. At this late hour, very few students lingered. Lavender was by the fire reading a book checked for the library, "Mists of Avalon." Required reading for all first years, but Lavender was one of the few who loved it enough to read it over and over again. She glanced up and gave him a brief, unassuming smile before going back to her book.

Two third years, a fourth and fifth all huddled in a dark corner, whispering and giggling quietly, as not to disturb their housemates. Harry took a seat on the opposite end of the couch from Lavender, who drew up her legs to give him more room.

"Can't sleep?" She asked, tossing her multi-coloured hair over her shoulder. Harry noticed her tired, bloodshot eyes. "Me either. Blows rhinos, if you ask me," She added. Despite everything, Harry felt a laugh coming on.

"Guess so...though I wouldn't know--" He said hastily. Lavender grinned and shook her head.

"Oh, me either." Lavender was different, just like he was. Strange not only in sense of humour, but on a much greater scale. He was the Boy Who Lived, she was an American. Well, not really. She was born in England and that was the reason she'd been put down for Hogwarts (just as Parvati and Padma, who'd relocated to India, where their parents hailed from, at a young age). But, at age two, her family had moved her to New England and Lavender had been raised in Boston, Massachusetts. Her voice wasn't what you'd expect from a native Brit, nor Bostonian. Rather, it was gentle American accent, the occasion British inflections slipping in when she was excited.

"So, what's keepin' ya up?" She asked, setting her book on the armrest. "Wait, let me guess...that prick Malfoy. What's been up with him lately?"

Harry sighed. "Your guess is as good as mine. At first I thought he was just messing around, trying to unnerve me...but he seems unnervingly serious."

"I don't think people like Malfoy know what love is, Harry. Don't let him fool you." Just like the rest of the Gryffindors, always protecting their hero. "Look, I've got an idea: I'll go get my hidden stash and read your tarot. That always makes Hermione feel better!"

"You read Hermione's tarot?" Harry thought of his own deck, which he'd used exactly once, for a quiz when Trewlany taught. Hermione's deck had never been opened, he was pretty sure.

"No, get real!" She took off up the girl's stairs, leaving Harry to wonder what on earth her 'stash' was. Wasn't that a word for drugs in American slang? Oh dear, Hermione did drugs?

Lavender returned with her cards in one hand and a plain white box under her arm. "My mom ships them with overnight owls. Tres expensive, but I can't live without them!" Harry held his breath, waiting for anything. "Voila!" She opened the box, revealing row after row of big, golden glazed doughnuts. "My guilty pleasure. They're maple glazed, which is just about as good as getting laid by Aunt Jemima herself!"

This time, Harry couldn't hold back his laughter. "Lavender, you're insane!" He said between gasps.

"I know," She exclaimed proudly. "Harry, I grew up just like you, not knowing at all about magic. My parents moved to America to get away from the affects of the war and the lasting shadow of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And they left behind everything magical, too. I grew up watching Star Trek and a Labyrinth and dozens of fairy tales, never dreaming what I saw could be real. By all accounts, I'm living in a fantasy world. There are times, in class, when I see something particularly astounding and I think this must all be in my head."

She shrugged and plucked two doughnuts from the box, handing one to Harry. "I have to keep myself...*me* somehow, or I'll really go insane."

"Well, I for one enjoy your insanity," Harry told her, biting into his doughnut. She was right, they were damned good.

"Thanks!" She exclaimed. "Now, for your reading." She finished off her pastry and conjured a hot tea for Harry and coffee for herself. She wiped her hands clean and opened her deck of cards. Harry cleaned his own hands and took the deck, clearing his mind of everything but his question and began shuffling. After a moment, he sat the deck before Lavender. He swallowed hard and just waited.

Everyone knew Lavender was good at this sort of thing, but Harry also knew he had to speak the question. Lavender looked expectant and Harry threw a suspicious glare at the younger children. Lavender took divinity serious and would not tell a soul his question, or the answer. The other Gryffindors present, he wasn't so sure about.

Lavender took note of his look and grabbed her wand, casting an anti-eavesdropping spell over them. Satisfied, Harry asked his question. Lavender blinked and refrained from asking any questions herself, thought it was clear she wanted to.

The cards were laid out in a circular fashion and Lavender glanced over them for a moment, eyes widening a couple times. She took a deep breath and looked up at Harry, tapping a card with her index finger.

"The one month," She said, indicating the four of pentacles. "Which represents November, indicates the need for you to establish emotional boundaries in current relationships. Perhaps distance could help you better understand your true feelings in a confusing situation. Here, the number four symbolises healing. There is also the suggestion that someone close to you is gaining power, more than they should.

"For the coming month, December, two of swords, reversed shows disharmony between two polar opposites and disruption and discord due to a gathering of friends, family and enemies in one place."

"In the third month, you have the Goddess Oya for strength. Oya shows your bravery, courage and strength of character. It shows difficult situations are one their way, but someone close to you shall help you understand that you are able to help someone with their problems, and yours too, with love, not force."

Lavender continued around the circle, revealing both positive and negative aspects of his future. She fell silent, looking puzzled at the seven month. "This card shows that you are unprepared for the tasks ahead. Its crossed however with this card, which shows a strong male figure, more experienced, who will take it upon himself to instruct you. This will be done in private, as you both are shown to be at risk."

"August is quite unpleasant, I'm afraid to inform you. Emotional turbulence and disharmony. Any offers of emotional support and love are rejected. All relationships are entering a tense time.

"Fortunately, the eleven month, September tells you that if you go inside yourself and contemplate your problems, answering with complete honesty, you will be able to make the proper decision. In the twelve month shows a deep level of trust, the joining of separate entities and shows the coming together of soul mates. A strong, invisible bond shall be created, to be broken by nothing."

"This is some reading, Harry," She said softly. "This shows not only one, but two and perhaps three people close to you are going to betray you. February of this coming year shows the birth of a child from a union of pure love.

Lavender tapped another card, "The death of one held dear..." The card Sacrifice was represented by the Goddess Kuan Yin, floating in purple clouds, carrying a tiny child close to her chest. "The realisation that some must be lost for success to come. The one to die...shall, surrender themselves willingly, peacefully at the end, knowing that their sacrifice will be to your benefit."
Harry frowned down at the cards before looking up at Lavender. He knew that there was a war coming and not everyone could survive, but to hear her say these things was difficult.

"But there is the completion card," Lavender noted. "The six of batons, signifying a victory after a great battle. The war is won not through force, but through intelligence and planning and a great deal of teamwork. There is intense satisfaction, old grudges will be put aside, new friendships shall be formed and while there is always work on the horizon, you are given a reprieve now."

"Yes, but what must I give up for this to come about," Harry muttered. Lavender cleared the cards and laid a consoling hand on his arm.

"Harry, you above all others should know nothing is set in stone. These cards are merely the rough sketch of a certain future. You can change it. You can change it." She handed him another doughnut and leaned back.

"Promise me you're not going to do anything foolish with Professor Snape," Lavender said softly.

Harry started eyes wide and startled. "How did you..."

"The king of cups," She said, tapping the card. A man with dark hair and sharp features was perched upon a shell-shaped throne in robes of resplendent green and blue. His expression was severe, but his eyes were gentle. In his hand, he held a golden cup, tilted forward as if to spill the rainbow contents.

"A private man, in control of his emotions who inspires mistrust. He works secretly, but is respected for his work. He has worked hard to achieve what he has. He can give you insight to yourself, but never to his inner self. Distant, 'cold,' and above all, capable of using his way with words cruelly, to hurt others."

Lavender arched a brow. "I don't know what's going on between you, whether good or bad, but Harry, think of how he's treated you? Singled you out since day one and he's held something against you since your birth. The man has darkness. Being near him makes me cold through and through."

Harry considered what she was saying in silence. The room was completely quiet, the children having gone off to bed. From above, there were the gentle sounds of their housemates sleeping and stirring for a brief bathroom trip here and there. A few giggles from the direction of the first year boy's dorm.

"You should get some sleep. I put a bit of a sleeping potion in your tea," She said, a devious smile lighting her features. "Don't say I never paid attention in his class."

Harry tried to smile, really, but instead, his face fell and he felt dangerously close to tears. Lavender grimaced, setting aside her things and drawing Harry to her. In that brief moment, they had a connection stronger than either of them had ever experience with someone of the opposite sex and both were sorry that they hadn't become friends. He clung to her in that moment, not crying, just feeling odd rapport that warmed him and then he pushed her away and stood unsteadily, already feeling the affects of the potion.

As he stumbled up the steps, he heard Lavender move behind him and he turned to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Harry," She called, "Remember what I said.

The end of October approached, and with it a vague feeling of dread. Severus had yet to be called to Voldemort. Harry's fear grew exponentially when he woke on October 30th, realising that Severus would go to his Lord that night, or not at all.

It was likely he'd be called even if Voldemort knew of his deception. The Dark Lord wouldn't let a traitor go unpunished. But Harry couldn't understand why Voldemort had waited so long to bring Severus to him. He feared, perhaps irrationally, that Voldemort had been gathering his followers and informing them of Severus' role as double agent.

In his mind, he could see Severus approaching Voldemort, only to be encircled by angry Death Eaters, ready to exact revenge. He could imagine the intense pain of being tortured with dark curses and muggle tools alike. Voldemort standing above, cruel smile twisting his lips, raising his wand and whispering the killing curse.

Harry jerked upright in his bed, causing the other boys (all in the process of dressing) to gaze worriedly at him. He squeezed his eyes shut against a blinding green light and felt pain lance through his scar.

"Harry, you alright?" Ron asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, as far from Harry as possible without falling off. So distant.

"I'm alright," Harry assured him, running a hand through his hair and smiling what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Harry had promised he'd join Ron and Hermione on their trip to Hogsmeade and he knew if he skipped out on them yet again, they'd be quite put out. So far they'd been understanding of his shaky, irrational behaviour and half-assed excuses, but today, he knew he could not escape. Besides, there was nothing he could do. Severus would call for him, were he needed.

The day would have been pleasant, had Harry not been torn with anxiety over Severus' plight. Hogsmeade was decorated with fairy lights, costumed storekeepers and dozens of meowing black cats--not to mention the huge carved pumpkins lining the streets. They ate pumpkin pie and drank butter beer at the tavern, shopped for candy and treats and did a little early Christmas shopping.

An excited buzz was all around town and the castle as children and adults alike put together parties, added last minute touches to their costumes and waited eagerly for the holiday to follow. The evening came quickly, and as students crowded the common room, shouting, playing and decorating, the three friends retreated to the boy's dorm.

Hermione, Ron and Harry were on Ron's bed, the other boys gathered on Seamus', playing a game of exploding snap. The boys in the dorm had accepted Hermione at a young age, and while no other girl would be brave enough to even venture up the stairs of the boys' side, Hermione was a regular fixture in the sixth year dorm. Actually, the boys appreciated her presence and often used her for advice on their ill-fated love affairs.

Tonight, however, Hermione was focused on Harry. She knew there was something wrong with him--her woman's intuition never let her down--and besides that, he was her best friend. If she couldn't tell something was wrong, then she'd worry. Which is what slightly bothered her about the fact that Ron was clueless as to Harry's obvious apprehension.

Hermione kept casting furtive glances at Harry, who was pointedly ignoring her attention. He and Ron were deep in a game of chess, which had lasted for quite some while now. Usually Ron just beat Harry within a couple minutes, but this game, their first since the start of the school year, was proving to be a bit more difficult to win. Harry had clearly learned a lot about the game over the summer.

The boys had been silent for quite a while, concentrating on their moves, and Hermione had had enough. She was going to get Harry to talk to her, if she had to pry the words from his mouth...or charm them with her wand. One way or another. It wasn't healthy for him to keep all he was feeling inside.

Just as she was about to speak, Hedwig came soaring though the night sky and the pecked at the window. Harry let her in, petting her and removing the letter bound to her leg. Ron and Hermione recognised the familiar cursive of Sirius Black and leaned in to read over his shoulder.

Harry,

I heard about the Quidditch game. Congratulations, I wish I could have been there to see it. I hope school is going well so far this year and that you're staying out of trouble. Moony has told me you have a couple new professors, but one in particular sticks out in my mind--Serenity Renardier. Harry, I went to school with her and I must warn you against her. She may seem kind at first, but she is not. She comes from a dark family and she's very unstable. Don't find yourself alone with her. If you notice anything unusual, tell Dumbledore right off.

On a lighter not, how are classes? Who do you play Quidditch against next? And what would you like for Christmas? Moony sends his love! Pass my regards on to Ron and Hermione.

With love,

Snuffles

Harry repressed the urge to snort. How like Sirius to condemn Serenity because of Severus, for surely he couldn't consider a family of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws "dark." And so very like him, when he himself was from Durmstrang. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to feel badly against his Godfather. Sirius did have Harry's best interests at heart and lately, Serenity had been giving off a strange vibe.

"She must have been in Slytherin," Hermione mused, taking the letter from Harry's hands.

"She was a Gryffindor," Harry protested.

"But..." Hermione looked puzzled, "But then...Oooh, how very strange. But she's a..." She remembered that Ron didn't know Serenity and Severus were brother and sister.

"I wonder who her family is," Ron said, completely oblivious to Hermione's little slip. He had a vaguely interested look on his face, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

An unfamiliar, standard school owl swept into the room through the still opened window, dropping its letter on Harry's lap. Hermione arched a brow. "Popular tonight, aren't you?" She asked, but inside her heart was beating wildly. It had to be Serenity, Snape or Malfoy, and none of those seemed the best for Harry at the moment.

Harry unfolded the parchment and read quickly:

A mutual friend has requested my presence.

S

Harry leapt from the bed, scattering the chess pieces all over. They grumbled in protest, and a couple rolled under the bed, screaming in rage. "I have to go!" He looked frantic and frightened. "I'm sorry, I..." He never finished, taking in the wide-eyed looks from the sixth year boys and the worried gaze Hermione sent him, he grabbed up his cloak and map. "I'll be back..." And he was gone.

When he approached Snape's quarters, he could hear familiar voices within, speaking rather loudly in an unfamiliar language. The words were fluid and soft, thought definitely not French, German, Spanish or any language Harry could identify. He cautiously approached the door, whispering the password and peeking inside.

Serenity was pacing the length of the room, her hair streaming after her like a banner, red eyes flashing, yelling at her brother, pleading it seemed, by her tone, though he couldn't understand a word of it.

Severus stood with his back to Harry and the sight halted Harry's heart--he had to force himself to swallow. Severus wore tight black pants pulled tightly over his thin, muscular legs and slightly round bottom. The black ended abruptly at his hips, where pale white skin took over. His back was long and lean, traced with scars and lines of definition. Most eye-catching was the large double "S" tattoo exactly like Serenity's, save with emerald stones. It sat in the small of Severus' back, curving with his spine.

Harry wanted very badly to run his tongue down that spine, see the body shiver...hear a sharp intake of breath. Trace a finger of the large, raised scar in a half-moon shape. Maybe kiss that place between the shoulder blades.

Severus muttered something in the other language, making him all the more exotic and appealing to Harry, and tossed his hair over his shoulder. Harry noticed just how long it had got, falling nearly to his waist and gentle shining waves. He picked up a sheer white shirt and tugged it over his head. It fell into place, hanging nicely over the frame, the sheer material showing a hint of the body beneath.

Harry began to say something, but Serenity spotted him and said, "Quiet." Severus turned to face him. Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to Severus' arm. The sleeves of the shirt were tight to the elbow and slit open, hanging several inches below the wrist and baring the Dark Mark.

Serenity followed his gaze and frowned, picked up a hooded cloak from the bed and sweeping to Severus' side. When she spoke, her voice shook slightly. "Let's cover that ugly thing up," She said, covering the mark with the black material.

Severus snapped out of his daze and looked down at his sister's hand, a brief spark of hurt flashing through his eyes. Harry's heart nearly broke and he crossed the room, catching up Severus' arm, exposing the mark for them all to see.

It was scratched at often, most likely an unconscious effort to rid the body of it, and it was reddened and raw around the edges. Harry brushed his fingers over the skin in a soothing gesture, knocking away Serenity's hand. He studied it for a long moment, enjoying the start contrast of colours and the clean, simple lines.

True, in most situations, on most surfaces, it was a ghastly thing. Writ across the midnight sky or on the arm of a loyal Death Eater, such as Lucius or Pettigrew, it signified pain, hatred and to Harry, the true essence of evil. It was a vile, ugly and garish thing.

Upon the surprisingly rounded, fleshy, delectable forearm of Severus Snape, it was none of those things. Here, it represented the great sacrifices Severus had made from a very early age to ensure the fall of Voldemort. It represented the rare light to be found in dark. It represented all the things that kept Harry safe--honour, courage, protection and most importantly, love. It was... "Beautiful."

Severus had been watching him warily, enjoying the cool touch, waiting for condemnation. When Harry spoke, with absolute honesty, eyes staring, unblinking at Severus, without a trace of disgust or judgement, Severus realised he was in love. Startled at the revelation, he jerked his arm back and covered the mark with his hand.

"I should go," He whispered, drawing the cloak over his shoulders. A series of silver snake shaped clasps went down the front, hiding the outfit beneath then folding over, to hide the clasps as well. Complete black. He pulled his hair back, stuffing it down the hood, which he drew tight around his face. The large, featureless mask lay on the bed, its empty eyes haunting Harry, reminding him of the night Cedric died...and now he was sending Severus to Voldemort. Severus grabbed the mask, concealing it within the folds of his robes.

"When will you be back?" Harry whispered, feeling incredibly out of place right at that moment. Severus took his broom from its place in the corner and stepped out the window to the gravely perch.

"I don't know. The Lord doesn't keep me long, though. He's afraid the Headmaster will wonder where I'm off to." Severus gave them a wry smile. "Don't worry," He added for Harry's sake. "Malfoy knows nothing-I'm safe..."

Harry wasn't sure about that, but there was little he could do to stop Severus now. He wanted to tell Severus, just in case he never got another chance. And yet, with all his Gryffindor courage, he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He feared Severus' response far too much.

"Severus--" He called for him to stop. "Please don't underestimate him!" Severus only nodded and with one more meaningful look cast in Harry's direction, he straddled his broom, kicking off and flying up the tunnel. Harry followed, looking up and watching til black faded into black.

With a sob, Harry started to fall to the floor. Serenity rushed to stand behind him and he sagged against her. She held him only for a brief moment, and Harry could sense that she was quite uncomfortable. "Go back to your dorm, Harry. Try and sleep. He'll be here when you wake."

Harry wanted to protest, he wanted to wait right here for Severus' return, but Serenity looked very firm and dangerous in her conviction. Harry blinked at her, feeling as if he she were a complete stranger and everything he'd thought was true about her was a lie. He stepped away from her embrace, which was cold and empty. He suddenly craved Draco's warmth. "I think you're the one who doesn't belong here," He whispered, deadly soft.

Serenity looked at him in surprise, eyes startled then slitted. She reminded him of an angry, wounded animal, ready to strike. Then she smiled. He was all the more frightened of her then. She turned and started to leave, pausing at the door to look over her shoulder. "It's who we are," She whispered, stroking her fingers of the tattoo on her arm, identical to Severus. The implication she was making was quite clear. It was who they were, and he wasn't part of it.

The Dark Lord liked to inspire awe in his followers and foe alike. His base of operations, remote, unplottable could only be reached by port-key and was a grand affair. A huge, stone castle carved right into the face of a cliff, raw and unfinished, but covered in rich tapestries, thick plush carpets and accents of gold.

Severus was port-keyed directly into Voldemort's "office." A raised platform ran across the far wall and the Dark Lord sat atop his throne, carved directly from the wall, too. Beside him, there was an even larger throne of gilded gold, raised high from the ground. To its side, a smaller throne sat, this one jewelled and padded. Wormtail kneeled at Voldemort's feet; Lucius stood to Voldemort's right.

Not breaking eye contact, Severus fell to his knees and crawled across the floor. He stopped at the first step leading up to his lord and shrugged off his cloak. Severus held out his arm, baring the Mark, which throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

"Your loyal servant is your willing tool. Use me as you will," Severus said, fighting the urge to flinch when Voldemort traced the edge of his tattoo. When the Lord touched it, it felt as raw and sore as it had when Severus first received the mark, the pain vivid and blinding.

"Ah, Severus..." Voldemort touch his finger to his lips in speculation, his eyes narrowing. "Severus," He said again, at last. "You have proven your loyalty. You may stand before me."

Severus gathered his cloak and rose elegantly and gracefully to his feet. He glanced suspiciously at Lucius, thinking of Draco's warnings and irrational behaviour. Surely, considering the welcome, Voldemort had no clue of Harry's summer hideout.

"You honour me, my Lord, I do not deserve your generosity," Severus replied smoothly, eyes fixing again on Voldemort.

"Well, that remains to be seen," Voldemort said. "That is why I've called you here. There are, of course, several potions I require which you shall create, but a far more important tasks lies in store for you..."

In candlelight, pale flesh, smooth, naked and supple spread beneath bone white, skeletal hands. The girl moaned low in her throat, arching into the touch of her lover, her body rising off the bed. Muscled legs slid around his bare back, pressing his hardness against her stomach. Ah, her stomach just was starting to swell with pregnancy. What before could have been mistaken as the product of over eating was now clearly the presence of another life, growing within.

He trailed his lips down her throat, bared to his nips and kisses, blossoming in bruises that would have to be hidden later. Her moans urged him on, urged him lower, her hands fluttering over his back, down his cheek. "I love you," She sighed.

Such innocence, it reminded him of just how young she was. How wrong, how horrible, how utterly evil it was for him to be doing this to her and that made him smile. "My little flower, I love you too." And strangely, he did. Cherished her beauty, her spark, her quiet intelligence and her precious youth. She would never lose any of it, he would see to that.

"And you," He whispered, to the child that grew within her--their child. A child unlike any other, a child who would one day rule alongside his father.

"Tom..." She was the only one allowed to address him as such, a fact she took great pleasure in. Especially in front of Lucius, watching him cringe and scowl as the name slid from her lips and her lover smiled--smiled--at her.

He looked up at her, his red eyes glistening, thin lips curling into a grin at the flush spread over her face. His flat, narrow nostrils flared, smelling her unique scent. Thin, snake-like tongue flicked out to lick down her neck. "Tom, make love to me."

Harry woke with a start, shaking all over. His dreams of Voldemort usually involved torture and death and that high, cold laughter that echoed in Harry's head for weeks afterwards. Never before had there been that tenderness, that erotic show of pale, naked skin.

Briefly, Harry wondered if he should report the latest dream to Dumbledore, but he blushed just thinking of how he would word it. "You see sir, I dreamt Voldemort was naked. And he was having sex. But not with me." Harry had to fight against the sudden hysterical giggle he felt in his throat. He couldn't keep this to himself. It could be real. And what would that mean for him and the rest of the wizarding world? A child born from evil, raised by evil, meant to be evil. No innocence could thrive in such an environment. Such a child could be potentially worse than Voldemort himself.

Harry shuddered at the thought and hoped against hope that it was just a dream. After all, Severus hadn't mentioned Voldemort taking a lover, and that wasn't the sort of information that a spy would normally leave out. But, if it were true, it was a weakness that Voldemort had not previously possessed. Harry cringed at the thought, using an unborn child to his advantage, but as Severus had told him, war was not for the weak-willed, and sometimes winning required sacrifices from everyone.

More than anything, though, Harry was flooded with images of the woman. Anonymous, as far as he could tell. He hadn't seen the girl's face, and her voice was only vaguely familiar, but something about her was haunting him...the way she eagerly responded to a cold touch, the way her body rose to meet her deadly lover. A sense of foreboding swept over him...a birth in the spring, and along with it, a betrayal. Lavender's words of reassurance did little for him now. A betrayal. Certainly someone he knew...someone he trusted wouldn't consort with Voldemort. Harry liked to think himself a better judge of character.

He thought of the women he saw on a daily basis, but couldn't come up with a single suspect. It wasn't Pansy. She was far too ugly, annoying, and for one thing, far too thin. Cho, he wouldn't have put it past, but she too didn't have the figure. Lavender was far darker, and with an American accent. Nathalie leapt into his mind. Nathalie with her loose flowing gowns and skin lighter than her uncle's, but Harry couldn't fathom her being Voldemort's lover. Ginny and Parvati popped into his mind and were dismissed just as easily. He wasn't even going to contemplate Hermione and Serenity.

It was insane, he knew, to sit here running down the list of female Hogwarts occupants, mentally checking them off when Severus may very well know just who the woman was. Perhaps Harry didn't know her at all, and the betrayal he'd experience would have nothing to do with the birth of Voldemort's child. Then of course, Harry figured he was never that lucky. But there was only one way to find out...He had to talk Severus.

End Part III.