There was a distinct possibility that Harry had overdone it that weekend, he had spent every spare second holed up in Music Room Five, alternating between pounding on the relatively unused drumkit and attempting to play the rhythm guitar element of several songs, and he was happy enough if he even achieved half of the speed required to play the punishing phrases that Matt and Paul concocted. By the time Monday morning had arrived, he could barely move. His left hand throbbed at the slightest movement, the skin worn down by several layers due to the heavy gauge strings everyone in the band used, his arms throbbed, his shoulders and back smarted and his calf muscles felt tight, as if he had been running. He tried not to show any discomfort as he hobbled down the dungeon stairs, and attempted to ignore the comments hurled his way, the best being 'attention seeker' and at absolutely worst 'attention whore'. It was difficult, however, especially as some of the comments were coming from Harry's own housemates. Neither of his best friends commented, though he believed that was probably because they already knew he wasn't faking it. A part of him absolutely dreaded turning up to Potions in the condition that he was in -he wouldn't be in a fit state to brew if he needed to- and he would be a much easier target for the Slytherins to sabotage his work. Undoubtedly there were going to be another barrage of nasty insinuations coming his way. As he, Ron and Hermione neared the classroom, the Slytherins looked around, some of them sporting downright vicious leers.
"Did you have a good night with your boyfriend, Potter?" Malfoy suddenly asked, though Harry noted that the malicious pleasure Draco used to exude when insulting him was gone, and he guessed that Malfoy was just doing it to keep up appearances. The expectation was probably that he would absolutely flip out, furiously squawk obscenities and deny the existence of such a person. That would have been his response before spending two months in close quarters with five other boys that constantly joked about each other's sexual conduct.
"What Jake and I do, is really none of your concern, Malfoy," Harry replied before he had even thought about the implications of revealing such a personal thing about himself. Silence descended over both groups of students. The Slytherin half of the students grinned sadistically, and from behind him, from within the crowd of Gryffindors he heard some muttering. The only thing he managed to make out, however, was Seamus insulting him.
"Wow, how much more obvious do you want to make it that you're an attention seeking lunatic?"
Harry swallowed thickly, he had no idea how quickly the new revelations would manage to spread around the rest of the student populace, and he wasn't sure how others would react, though he assumed Seamus's reaction would pretty much be the norm. He knew it would seem suspicious, everything that happened that summer, considering the Ministry's adamant claims that Voldemort hadn't returned and that both Harry and Dumbledore were absolutely stark raving mad. Harry had hoped that his romantic life would be the one thing he could keep between himself and his friends, he had even asked Jake's permission before he set off, he hadn't known if the bassist would want their relationship to be known about Harry's school. The answer had been reassuring. Jake had promised that he didn't mind Harry telling his close friends, and he also didn't mind if Harry said nothing at all, though Jake implied that he would be boasting about Harry to his own friends in college. His blush had been as dark as a beetroot when Jake whispered that, oh so hotly into Harry's ear.
"For once, I find myself agreeing with a Potter," came the insultingly surprised voice of the resident Potion's Master, and everyone gathered around the classroom had the good grace to at least mumble a half-arsed apology to Harry. "I will see you after class, Mr Potter," he added as he opened the classroom door. A surge of indignation washed over Harry, he felt he hadn't done anything at all to deserve being held back after class. As far as he could recall, he hadn't sworn, insulted anyone, drawn his wand or anything to that effect. He did wonder if he was actually in trouble or if he was going to get a lecture about being more careful when speaking. Neither, he felt, would shock him at that moment in time.
As the class began to work, after a particularly long speech detailing the topics of study for the following term -which Harry was already aware of thanks to his additional work over the summer holidays- Harry found he was immensely grateful that Alex had dragged him to the opticians only days after meeting him, claiming that Harry's old glasses frames didn't suit his face at all, and -for all intents and purposes- commanded him to get his eyes checked. Thankfully, spectacles for people under the age of sixteen were free, though it had taken some heavy cajoling to actually procure an appointment without his guardian present. The benefits were so vast, that Harry cursed himself for not complaining sooner to Madam Pomfrey about the fact that his glasses were too weak for his use. He noticed he was working much more slowly than his peers, and assumed that was because he was in a fair amount of discomfort. Despite this, he was only one or two stages behind his classmates, and that was mainly because he had chosen to prepare his ingredients at the start of the potion so that the pain in his hands and arms wouldn't affect the timing of the potion, should he be too slow in preparing each component of the brew.
Professor Snape didn't make a snide remark as he peered into Harry's cauldron, and he hoped that was a good sign. Ordinarily, if Harry had made a mistake, the snarky Professor would comment immediately, often in an unnecessarily loud voice, obviously intended to humiliate his least favourite student. He even checked with Hermione, and in whispered tones, they discussed the ease of preparing each ingredient before working on a potion. Harry felt quite foolish when he realised that Hermione had adopted that method of brewing years beforehand, and that was she credited her success in the subject to, as well as to paying close attention to how each component and step of a potion could affect the overall result. The only real issue he had was when it came to bottling a sample to be marked, he had trouble controlling the shaking of his hands, which he was sure stemmed from a slight repetitive strain injury, he -along with the rest of the band- had suffered from a few as the days had slipped past.
In accordance with Professor Snape's request, Harry made sure to pack up his things sedately, he was almost certain that he wouldn't have been able to move any faster even if he wanted to. When the last of the other students had cleared out of the room, a few straggling Slytherins evidently hoping the Professor would start reprimanding Harry with others still in the room. Before Harry had a chance to make his way to the Professor's desk, the Potion's Master had pulled up a chair in front of Harry's workstation.
"I noticed you were having some issues with mobility," the Professor informed Harry by way of explanation. "I like to keep tabs on certain relationships in the school, there are some groups of people that are more vulnerable or less likely to seek help if they need it, unfortunately you are in that category in part because of who you are, and also in part because you have insinuated you are currently in a relationship with another man. I can assure you that anything revealed here will be completely confidential, I will not disclose any of what you may or may not tell me, unless I believe you are at risk. Do you understand?"
Harry felt his heart thunder in his chest, he was unused to anyone thinking of him in that manner, though he was slightly reassured that a person in a position of authority cared about the welfare of his students quite as much as Snape apparently did. Harry felt as if the professor had an odd way of showing his commitment to his job.
"I understand," he replied, sincerely hoping he didn't sound too nervous. He was a little alarmed when the professor took up his quill, obviously about to make note of anything of particular significance.
"If I write anything down, it will go into the locked drawer with the rest of the details I have collected over the last few years, no one but myself has access to that particular drawer. Firstly, what is your partner's full name?" He asked, and for the first time, Harry couldn't detect the subtle boredom that the Professor's voice seemed to perpetually contain.
"Jacob Anthony Hillier, though he prefers to be called Jake," Harry answered, guessing that it was in his own interests to give as detailed responses as he could.
"How old is Jake?"
"Jake is sixteen, seventeen in a few days I think," he offered, trying to recall when the boy had said his birthday was. No matter how hard he tried, the thought eluded him.
"How did you meet?"
"We met at his school's summer fare, and we are a part of the same band," Harry explained, finding the expression on the man's face to be somewhat unreadable, though if he had to guess, it was something akin to intrigue.
"A little off topic, but what type of music do you play?"
Professor Snape was not someone that Harry thought would ever be interested in the type of music he and his band played, he had assumed that Snape would be one of the first to tell him to sit down and stop talking nonsense.
"Rock, though we currently don't have a specific style, we're aiming for punk or alternative, we think," Harry explained, though he wasn't sure if he was entirely comfortable with talking about the band like that. It seemed odd to him though, that he would feel such discomfort and he supposed it was because he didn't feel as if he could speak on behalf of the band, considering he was such a new member. At his answer, the Professor smiled widely, and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a wristband, inscribed with the words Reading Festival.
"I hope to see you there someday, I have a tendency to attend every year. Finally, would you say that any sexual activity you have engaged in with Jake was mutually consensual?"
Harry frowned for a few moments, had either of them really expressed their consent he wondered, or had they been caught up in the heat of the moment, surely that was consensual. He decided to voice his thoughts before the Professor grew more concerned.
"I believe so, neither of us explicitly agreed, but I couldn't find any valid reason to object at the time, or even now, and I'm almost certain Jake had no objections," he said, feeling slightly self-conscious. The Professor nodded, folded the piece of parchment up, and stowed it away in the depths of his robes.
"That will do then, Mr Potter, I do hope that Mr Hillier and yourself continue to have such a good relationship, it seems to me as if you are both already heavily in tune with each other. Your summer work will be given back to you next lesson, though I can tell you, yours was much better than usual, and incidentally one of the better assignments in the class."
Harry all but stumbled out of the classroom, he had been expecting several nights worth of detention -even though he hadn't technically done anything- as well as a few points docked, and so was pleasantly surprised at the result. The fact that the professor was praising his summer work, albeit in his unique way, was the icing on the proverbial cake. Ron and Hermione were curious as to what had transpired, but Harry felt too giddy to even attempt retelling the events.
