DISCLAIMER: I do not own or even claim to EVER own anything related to Harry Potter or its affiliates. It all belongs to Jo Rowling and the rights are still the sole property of WB and Scholastic and whatever other companies are in charge of distributing HP books, movies and whatnot. I am only a simple fangirl who had an idea and felt the need to write it down and share it with other fangirls who are of similarly-minded types.
Oh, and, in case that one didn't get the gist across: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING! Only the laptop on which this was written and a slight case of insomnia. XD
Insomnia Has Its Perks
AN: Hi, everyone! (continues to dodge the rotten fruit) Ah, I see you all sharpened your pitchforks. … lovely.
Here I am with another chapter! This took quite a lot longer than I thought to accomplish for a myriad of reasons. One of which was a show I was in taking up all of my spare time, another of which was that the chapter sort of… got out of hand.
I mean like waaaaaaaaaaay out of hand. It took on a life of its own and wanted to be 9,000 different things and I really hope it makes any sense whatsoever.
This is yet another 4am posting. Honestly, the middle of the night is the only time I get anything done. Haha.
I honestly hope you like this chapter. It isn't the best one so far, but it isn't terrible. Just… out of hand.
As per usual, I shall see you at the end,
If any of you make it there.
Yours truly,
ForeverJynxed
Chapter 7: Stampedes, Friends and Thank Yous
Harry couldn't cast a Patronus.
Still.
"Alright, everyone, let's break into groups and work on casting your Patronuses once more." Remus was his usual peppy self but with the hint of shabbiness he had back in Harry's Third Year. Well, he should be, the full moon's tomorrow night, Harry thought, trying to catch Lupin's attention.
I sure as hell hope Remus will let me get out of this like he did last time. Harry was exhausted, feeling like he hadn't slept a wink. Sure, Snape's Calming Draught had worked perfectly, had been just what Harry needed, but Harry still felt like his sleeping had just been a wonderful hallucination.
Harry still couldn't quite figure out why Snape had gone and wasted his private stores of potions on him. That was the second time the Potions Master had come to his rescue without being asked. If anything, Harry had only yelled at him and tried to storm out both times, but Snape insisted on patching him up, mentally and physically.
Old Snape, the pre-middle of the night rendezvous Snape, would have hexed him for daring to raise his voice to him. This "New Snape"… Harry was lucky to be alive, as far as he was concerned.
Even now that the war was over, his debt to Harry's mother having been repaid, and Voldemort gone, Snape was still there in the background, helping him whether he liked it or not.
I'll never understand Snape, Harry thought while wandering toward the back of the classroom, determined to catch Remus at a moment when he was as far out of earshot of another student as possible when he asked him to be released from class for the day.
He was assaulted by a playful Otter for his troubles. Momentarily startled, he prepared for the lecture he knew was coming his way.
Swatting away the silver animal, he sent a glare to its owner as it dissipated.
"Why aren't you working?" Hermione shoved a Ravenclaw out of her way, knocking him into his partner's shield they had just managed to conjure. She sent an apologetic glance to the 7th year Eagle, now in his new spot on the ground, before rounding on Harry. "Sorry."
"I always knew you were the graceful one," Harry smirked at his friend.
She rolled her eyes and settled a hand on her hip, which was never a good sign, "Oh, ha ha, Harry. Your attempt to change the subject has been duly noted, by the way."
"Well, I wouldn't be a Gryffindor if I didn't at least attempt."
Hermione looked sour. "Yes, well, attempting the impossible borders on the stupidity the other houses often try to apply to our house, Harry. Some food for thought for you for next time. Now, I ask again, why aren't you working?"
He groaned, sounding like a petulant child and not having enough energy to care, "Come on, Hermione, if there is any lesson I can skip out on, this would be it. I don't want to be accused of showing off or anything-" Even his half-hearted attempt to use the Slytherin's comebacks for his own good did none of its own.
"You should be setting an example for the rest of the class, Harry. You've been able to cast a corporeal Patronus for, what, five years now?"
Harry sighed exasperatedly, "Something like that, yes. Hermione, look, Remus knows I can do it, he won't mind."
"What won't I mind?" Harry spun around to where his friend and Professor had managed to sneak up on him. At last, Harry thought, a way out!
"Harry seems to be under the impression that you won't mind him not doing his work, Professor." Hermione looked triumphant.
Remus gave her a placating smile. "Ms. Granger, I assure you that Harry and I have discussed the matter. Though, I don't quite recall saying you were allowed to just sit and do nothing."
They had in fact discussed it. The Friday before last, Remus had informed him that he had held off on continuing with Patronuses purely for Harry's benefit, and that he understands his problem with the particular spell. "Though," he had added, "I have to move on to a different unit soon, and can't afford to keep putting it off for much longer, Harry. I shall give you until closer to a certain astronomical occurrence, and only till then, to try and become more accustomed to your stag once more. And will most likely be in need of your assistance in helping all of the students that class."
Harry had, in fact, agreed to help the class, though still didn't see how he could be of use. He said just that to Remus and tried to ignore the disparaging shake of Hermione's head before she walked away from them, back to where Ron was showing off his Jack Russell Terrier.
"Harry, have you worked with finding a memory, any memory, that would help?" Remus pulled him further from the class, talking in hushed tones now that Hermione was otherwise occupied.
Harry shook his head, deciding to be honest for once, "No, I haven't. It's not just the memory thing, Remus it's-" Harry took a breath, it was now or never. "It's the Patronus itself. I can't cast one. I haven't been able to since…" he trailed off, the rest of the sentence implied. "Every time I try… I just freeze up."
It was true. Since the moment with the Dementors during the war, where Harry had honestly been about to just let them kiss him and relieve him of the burden that was living, and had only made it out alive because of his friends' abilities to do what he taught them, Harry had not been able to produce even a small, shimmering mist.
He would always just turn cold; terrified that even if he tried his Patronus would not come to him.
All of the past two weeks he had continually tried to bring forth his familiar silver stag. His spare hours were spent in the Room of Requirement, diligently casting away, hoping for some change.
Well, at least attempting to cast away.
It took two days for Harry to even be able to speak the entire spell. Four till he could to it without hyperventilating.
It was probably his apprehension toward the spell that had caused his nightmare the evening previous.
Remus nodded slowly, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "It is perfectly normal to have some… negative baggage left over from any war or battle, Harry. I would be lying if I said I didn't have my fair share as well. As it is, it is not something that will be fixed very easily, Harry, nor should you feel ashamed in any way of this fact. The trauma you endured, that and its apparent association to the spell, is blocking your ability to cast it. Am I correct in my assuming the two have some deeper correlation in your mind?" Harry nodded, being all too aware that that was the problem, but still being slightly creeped out at hearing it said so… plainly. "As much as you may hate to hear it, you are Harry Potter. You can accomplish anything once you put your mind to it. Your parents were always ones to bounce back eventually. Tenacity and determination, two traits that Gryffindors exemplify and your parents were the best in the bunch. A trait I always admired and, to be honest, was never-endingly jealous of as a teen. I wouldn't doubt if, given time, you could bounce right back-"
"Professor Lupin!" a seventh year Ravenclaw that Harry had never met previously to that year's class yelled for Remus, stopping him mid-rant. Something that Harry was not all that sorry to have occurred.
The one thing he always loved about Remus was that he rarely compared him to his parents. If he did, it would always be a fleeting statement here and there, which is what made Harry treasure them as a kid. Since the war, though, it seemed Remus had taken over for Sirius in constantly comparing Harry to the wolf's deceased best friends. Particularly their strong suits, which, instead of making Harry feel better as he guessed the statements were supposed to, only managed to make Harry feel worse for having not achieved those traits and instead having failed his parents in some way.
He never claimed his thought processes made sense.
"Coming!" Remus sighed, "As much as I love our talks, I have some teaching I must attend to. We can continue this later, Harry."
Harry really would have preferred not to, but nodded anyway. "Will do, Remus. Go forth and teach." He smiled as he watched his friend actually bounce to go and help a student.
He may be a wolf, but Remus Lupin had been acting far more like a happy puppy since he became a teacher again. Harry normally found this interminably, giddily hilarious. At that moment, it was simply inconvenient.
As per his previously made promise, Harry swallowed his pride and went around and helped his fellows who were having troubles with casting the spell.
About half of the class was comprised of Dumbledore's Army members, so Harrys' job was a tad easier than expected, but there were still several people who were only producing a simple silver mist, and a handful that weren't even doing that much.
It was like slipping on an old glove, Harry helping his classmates. He hadn't realized how much he truly missed teaching the DA until he started it again.
"Here, try this," the Ravenclaw Hermione had knocked over earlier had yet to manage so much as a mist, and was instead sitting there glaring at his wand and continually growling the spell. Obviously there were several issues Harry could help him with right off. "Don't force it. Spend a few minutes thinking of the memory, something wonderful. It's easier at first if it is happiness from a pure source. Do you have one?"
The kid grumbled and rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course. That's what I've been doing, thinking of the memory. The stupid spell just won't work-!"
Harry chuckled. "That's because you're forcing it. Just take a deep breath, calm down, and let's start over. Again, do you have a memory? Something happy?"
The Ravenclaw did as Harry had suggested. Slowly, he took a deep breath and exhaled. He nodded, "Yeah, I've got a memory." Harry didn't bother asking what it was, the memories always being something too personal for him to want to dig into.
"Alright. Now, think about it. Really think about it. Let it fill you up. Feel its light spreading through you, like a gentle fire warming your very soul." He had no idea where all of this crap was coming from. One too many rounds of Remus' "Happy" speeches and suddenly Harry found himself sounding like a fortune cookie.
The Ravenclaw looked understandably skeptical. "Seriously? Warming to my very soul?"
Harry smiled wanly, "Yes. Just try it, okay? Trust me."
Grumbling, the Ravenclaw sighed and closed his eyes. Harry could see him concentrating, the corners of his mouth quirking in just a way to where he could tell his memory was about happy enough. He waited a minute or two, watching the eagle, waiting for the right moment.
His smile widened and his face relaxed. Harry knew it was then or never. "Now," he started in what he hoped was a calming voice, "lift your wand and say the spell."
Harry watched as the Ravenclaw opened his eyes, a look of certainty on his face, and stated, "Expecto Patronum."
Harry blinked and suddenly a thin, silver wall appeared from the end of the kid's wand.
"Haha! Good job. See? Told ya you could do it." Harry clapped him on the back.
He turned, a huge smile on his face, and beamed at Harry. "Thanks!"
Harry just nodded, said, "No problem," and wandered back on his way to help someone else. By the fourth time he was thanked for being "such a great teacher," Harry had managed to become content with the day and the way it was going.
"They're right, you know." Remus' voice came from behind where Harry was, him having just finished helping a Hufflepuff.
"Right about what?" Harry edged away from a group of DA members who were circled together, the edges of their silvery animals just visible over their shoulders. There was a reason he was helping only the ones who had yet to produce anything even vaguely resembling an animal.
"You. You're a great teacher, Harry. You could even give me a run for my money, if you weren't so set in becoming an Auror. Oh, and if I weren't hands down the agreed upon best Defense Professor for years." Remus smiled congenially. He was kidding, of course, yet the statement was true nonetheless.
"Nah. I've just had a lot of practice."
"Ah, yes. Dumbledore's Army did have themselves a rather brilliant leader and teacher if rumors are to be believed." Remus sat on the edge of a desk at the back of the room, keeping his gaze trained on the class at all times. He still somehow managed to make Harry feel like he was only focusing on him. The man has a gift, and its name is teaching.
Harry informed Remus of this and the wolf just chuckled, a soft growling noise. "I simply perceive things a tad differently, that is all. You, however… Have you ever thought about coming back to teach? After your fantastic career as an Auror, that is."
Harry thought about it. To be honest, he had given it some consideration. Lately in particular. Becoming an Auror had become less and less his life's ambition since the war. After he worked through some things, sure he would love to, but a simple life of teaching another generation to eventually become Aurors sounded like the better option.
But he was Harry Potter. He was expected to become an Auror. He had to become one. It was the only option he could honestly see for his future, the only thing he could be without feeling like he was failing anyone.
"Ah, Remus, you know me well enough to know the answer to that already. Hell, I already have an office in the Ministry with my name on the front, waiting for my graduation day. Maybe as my retirement plans. Till then, I shall simply leave it to you to teach the new recruits." Harry smirked at him and leaned on the edge of the same desk. "Besides, the teenagers would become insufferable after a while."
Remus laughed good-naturedly at that. "Yes, that they do. Particularly the ones who just can't seem to see what they are truly capable of. Always focused on what others expect of them, worried about what others will think, never willing to branch out on their own for their own happiness. It's the only downside to this job." Remus sent him a meaningful look before raising his wand and setting off red sparks, calling the class to attention.
Well, you know what they say. Those who can't do… Harry thought. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen, something terrible.
Perhaps that was just because, in his life, terrible and any day of the week sort of went hand in hand.
Then again, perhaps it was for what happened next.
"Wands down and return to your desks, please, everyone." Remus bounded to the front of the classroom, Harry was now assured of how close it must be to the full moon for how doglike his friend was becoming.
A chorus of, "Aaaawww," rang out amongst the teenagers as Harry rolled his eyes and joined his classmates in returning to their seats.
Once they were all seated, Remus smiled and clapped his hands together, "I must say, as a class, I have never seen so much improvement in so short a time as this group has managed." The students gave a hearty cheer for themselves; Harry had to admit they earned it, "I feel you deserve a reward for all of your hard work. So, how about we have a little demonstration. I know there is a certain percentage of this classroom that can produce corporeal Patronuses." Harry felt rather than saw every member of the DA's interest peak at this. Harry's heart fell somewhere around his stomach, seeming to have hit his kidney on the way if the pain in his abdomen was any indication.
"I would like to invite any of them who would like to show us their skills, now they do not all have to come up, only those that want to-" The rest of Remus' speech was drowned out by the sound of scraping chairs and overexcited teenagers as the entirety of the present members of the DA, minus one leader, scrambled for the head of the class.
His absence was quickly noticed and Hermione actually glared Harry down when she realized he was still sitting, but Harry stayed where he was. Hermione gave up eventually, Harry being the more stubborn of the two lately.
"Now, you are all aware that a Patronus takes the form of an animal. A protector. This animal differs from person to person and can even change for a person due to a strong event occurring in their life." Knowing that Remus could very well have been talking about his wife, whose Patronus became, well, Remus, Harry still immediately thought about Snape and his doe. How someone had meant that much to him to be an event that changes even the spirit guardian… Harry didn't really want to think more on the subject.
"To prove to you all that I am not simply rambling up here, I would like to give you a demonstration on the variety that one spell can come in." He turned and nodded to the DA members who were waiting patiently for their directions. "Now, if you all could form a straight line," some shuffling and they managed to fit in one line across the front of the classroom, "and cast in unison, please? We may, in fact, be the first to witness what could only be referred to as a Patronus stampede." Remus sounded far too excited about this for Harry's liking.
Harry was not in any mood to see anything that involved the words "Patronus" and "Stampede."
The members of the DA stood before the class, each lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, wands extended and a smirk on their lips.
Moments too late, Harry realized it was a terrible idea for him to still be in the room for this.
Much less sitting at a desk. In front of them all. More specifically, sitting at the desk at which a good fourth of the group before him was aiming their wands.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" the majority of Dumbledore's Army shouted in unison as their beautiful silver animal protectors burst from the ends of their wands and began to gallop, swim and run around the room.
The rest of the still seated portion of the class broke into "oohs" and "aahs." Some even clapped. Harry didn't hear any of it.
The otter, bunny and mare all came toward Harry first, descending upon him in unison‒
In a flash, he was back in his nightmare. Everything was as per the usual. The bodies of the dead mauled him, most with their wands raised high. Though this time, they changed. Slowly, each of their eyes disappeared behind black hoods that seemed to grow over their faces. The hoods were joined by the rest of the long black cloaks. The hands holding their wands became decayed, old, and instead of screaming at him, the voices died down to a more terrifying sound.
Slow, rattling breaths of eyeless, faceless beings.
Dementors were everywhere. As the air around him seemed to freeze, his terror increased. They all floated toward him, rattling breathing being all he could hear besides the beating of his own heart.
Harry's mind went only to his moment of acquiescence. Memories of him willingly walking toward the Dementors, Ron and Hermione's voices calling him back but he kept going-
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry tried to spell them all away, but he could do nothing to stop it. His wand had become limp, useless. No patronus would ever come to his rescue again…
The only remnant of the humans the Dementors had been moments before were the wands held in their outstretched hands. Each got closer, raising their arms and noiselessly casting the same spell. Harry braced himself, but instead of the usual green light, silver mist began filling the room.
Harry stood, terrified. The silver animals shone in the dim lighting of the Great Hall. These were no ordinary Patronuses.
They floated, red-eyed, and as evil as their real life counterparts were pure.
These held no sense of warmth and safety. The Patronuses descended upon him, the physical manifestations of hate, sorrow, blame and his guilt, attacking him. Tearing at him with their claws and trampling him with their hooves, the only pure source of good in his world of hell was killing him.
Harry was hyperventilating. He could no longer tell the difference between his reality and his memories of a nightmare.
Quickly, he shut his eyes. He was panting, trying to forget what was in front of him.
Okay, Potter. Calm down. He couldn't regain control of himself, he was freaking out.
A voice in his head, a memory of the day before, mocked him. Potter, now is most definitely not the time for one of your infamous outbursts and overreactions.
Not giving the fact that it was Snape's voice in his head a second thought, Harry took a deep breath. The bastard was right, even later. It was never time for one of Potter's infamous overreactions…
He opened his eyes and took a good, hard look at the otter in front of him, forcing himself to see that its eyes were not red, that it was the normal otter Hermione always cast. It posed no danger to him. It was harmless.
Finally, he felt his breathing even out.
Now Harry felt like an idiot. He had just been reduced to hysterics by silvery animals. He didn't know how many people witnessed it, but even one would ruin him.
Again, he was terrified of animals that were protectors. Silver, prancy protectors.
Kill me now.
A voice behind him scoffed, "Really, Potter, you could have done better than that. 'Oh, no, the scary animals are coming to get me. Stampede!' Honestly, I expect better from the likes of you. 4.5, really."
Harry whipped around in his chair, unable to believe his ears. The owner of the familiar voice was none other than Draco Malfoy. He was confused, to say the least.
What the hell is Malfoy talking about? It took Harry far too long to catch on, being stuck on the sheer fact that Malfoy was talking to him.
Finally, he got it. Malfoy was covering for him. Badly, but still.
Harry played along. Badly, but still… "Oh, come on, that was at least a 7.6. Didn't you see the realistic panicking? Star performance of the class, in my opinion." Malfoy chuckled at him in response. He held his breath, waiting. Seconds later, others laughed along with Malfoy.
"Oi, Harry, I'd give you about an 8.3. The fear in your eyes, mate, I almost believed it!" Ron, never one to be on the outside of a joke, came inadvertently to his rescue once again.
With that, things went back to normal. Small conversations erupted, the members of the DA wandered back to their seats, and everything meshed together in a blur. Remus announced the end of class, thanking the students that shared their wonderful skills with the rest of them, and assigned a three foot essay on the different spells they had learned in the past few weeks and what their applications to real life were, to be due in a week.
Harry groaned along with the rest of the class at the idea of work, then began to pack up his things as quickly as possible, blending into the din. He almost made it out of the class unscathed, but in a small gap between classmates he made eye contact with Remus.
Remus had his calculating, worried face on.
Harry knew he was screwed.
So, he put on his brave Gryffindor face once more, and ran for his life.
In his hurry to escape that look, Harry ran into Malfoy outside of the classroom.
Literally.
"Sorry-"
"Would you watch where you're going- Oh. Potter," his face switched from annoyance to something more congenial when he realized who Harry was, "just the man I wanted to talk to." Malfoy readjusted his bag back onto his shoulder from where Harry had knocked it out of his grip.
Harry had to, once again, take a few seconds to process what Malfoy had just said. "Um, er- You wanted to talk?"
Malfoy nodded, "Yeah, just not here. Care for a walk?" He turned and started heading down the hall, obviously expecting Harry to follow. Which he did.
Harry ignored the confused looks from Ron and Hermione he got as he walked away, simply waving them away and mouthing, "Tell you about it later," to appease them. The situation was weird enough without getting them involved.
They passed through several hallways, taking one or two shortcuts, until finally they had gotten far enough away from the other students so as not to be overheard. Malfoy stopped and turned to Harry, "Listen, Potter, I know we've had a sort of mute truce since…" he seemed to be searching for the best way to phrase it, "everything that happened last year." 'Everything that happened,' well it was better than nothing. "I wanted to assure you that I'm no longer participating in our futile feud. I want to move on. Start over. Clean slate."
Harry was confused again. "Clean slate?"
Malfoy, mistaking Harry's confusion for incredulity, backtracked faster than a speeding bludger, "I know it will be rather difficult, what with seven years of hatred and after all of the turmoil that us hating each other has caused- both for us and our surrounding friends and individuals-, and everything I have done. Specifically in the past two years. Honestly, I was only after power and a place to fit in where I was the best. Then my family got involved… I did not think things through. I just acted. I see that now. I have had some help figuring a few things out these past few months, and I want- no, I need you to know that I am done. I am done being a prat for the sake of living up to my image, to my family name, and I am done hating you. In fact, I would like to be your…" Malfoy seemed to choke a bit on the next word, "your friend, if you wouldn't mind."
He didn't know what to say. What does one reply to something like that?
The idea of Malfoy being his friend was always a laughable one. He would rather have given himself over as a snack for the Giant Squid than befriend him in the past. This Malfoy, though… he seemed legitimate in his wish to be friends.
He thought back to the past few weeks. Draco Malfoy had been acting distinctly unlike himself. As if he truly had turned over a new leaf… That and there was that moment with Ginny he had witnessed a few weeks ago.
Perhaps ending the Potter/Malfoy feud once and for all would be the best idea for all involved.
Harry did the first thing he could think of. Slowly, he held out his hand, pretending to not notice the jumpy reflexive almost-reach for his wand Malfoy did at the movement. After all, hadn't he done the same thing, only to a much larger extent, to Snape the night before?
Malfoy stared at his hand. A tense moment hung in the air as they both stared, Harry's hand between them.
Harry almost withdrew it.
Then, just as slowly, Malfoy held out his own to shake Harry's hand.
With that small movement, all was settled. Harry had finally accepted Malfoy's offer of friendship from their first year. From what seemed a lifetime ago.
It was seven years late, but there it was.
They looked at one another, each firmly shaking the other's hand. The Slytherin looked as if he could hug him. Harry wasn't quite certain he would have let him.
"Well, then." The handshake had gone on for an awkward amount of time, so they both hastily withdrew their hands. Malfoy returned his to the strap on his bag. "That is, um, that, then."
Another awkward moment of silence, neither really sure what to say. They had just become friends, and already they had nothing to say to one another.
Or rather, they had too much to say. What to say first?
Malfoy eventually nodded and turned to walk away.
Harry finally found what he wanted to say.
"Hey, thanks, Malfoy."
Malfoy stopped. "What for?" He turned back around to face him.
Not telling your crazed Aunt it was me? Not actually killing Dumbledore? Being sort of a human being? "For in there. It- Just, thanks."
Malfoy didn't need to think too hard to figure out what Harry meant. "Think nothing of it, Potter. You should just be happy I recognized the signs." Harry raised an eyebrow. Malfoy's cheeks paled a bit, but his eye contact never wavered. "I was the same way after… Well, if I saw anything that reminded me of, well, anything- Even my Slytherin crests, the snake, certain rooms of the Manor, memories of what happened there- Well, I sort of lost it once or twice. What I'm trying to say, with an unusual lack of my expected grace and eloquence, is- I never thought I'd be saying this to you of all people, and if you ever repeat any of this I shall deny it wholly, but with things such as that… I understand."
Somehow, unlike anything Ron or Hermione had told him over and over again since the war, Harry believed Malfoy. He did, in fact, understand.
Perhaps he just needed to hear it from someone far removed from himself and his memories. Maybe Malfoy admitting it just made everything he had gone through just that much more bearable, because it made it real. And almost… normal?
"Thank you. For understanding, and for helping. It sounds stupid actually saying it out loud, but honestly you saved my arse in there. Definitely something a friend would do." He smirked as Malfoy genuinely laughed.
"Well, don't be making a habit of it. I can't have everyone relying on my quick wit and lightning fast covering abilities. Others may catch on and then it's nothing but work, work, work." The blonde smirked, but there was no malice behind it. "While I accept your thanks, it really is not necessary. In fact… I'm the one who should be thanking you."
This conversation was beginning to become as awkward as the extended handshake. "Thanking me? For what?"
"How does one classify thanking someone for 'everything' without it sounding trite?" Harry rolled his eyes, "No, honestly. You gave my family and me a second chance. You kept me and my mother out of Azkaban- don't try and deny it, because I already know." He cut Harry off before he could defend his actions, "You saved my life. In the Room of Requirement… You could have let me burn. Honestly, it's what I would have done." Malfoy studied his shoe, "But instead, you did what I could never have done. Risking your life to save that of someone who didn't deserve it. It was crazy and reckless, but…" his eyes met Harry's, "I am forever in your debt, Potter."
"No, you're not. And, please, call me Harry." It wasn't that he wanted Malfoy to call him Harry, it was that he couldn't stand hearing anything like what he just had, someone thanking him for things that required anything but gratitude, with his surname attached. He had had enough of that at the funerals for the fallen.
Malfoy's eyes widened a bit. "Harry?" He looked like the name left a bad taste in his mouth. Harry didn't blame him. "I shall… but only if you call me Draco."
There was a challenge hidden in that sentence if he had ever heard one. "Well, then… Draco, I guess I'll be seeing you." Challenge completed.
"See ya around, P- Harry." Draco waved slightly as he walked away, headed to his next class. Harry waved back at his now more than acquaintance.
"See ya around, M- Draco."
As he walked away, Harry couldn't help but wonder if Malfo- Draco could read minds. Wasn't he just thinking a few weeks ago how Malf- DRACO had never so much as thanked him for what happened in the Room of Requirement? Merlin only knows what could have made him turn things around so much and so quickly.
Then he thought about it for a second.
When the answer hit him, he had to stop himself from audibly laughing.
"Draco, wait up!" He ran to catch up with the Slytherin, who turned around to look at him questioningly.
"Yes, Po- Harry?"
"Just one more thing." Harry leaned in so only Malfoy could hear him, for you never know who's listening at Hogwarts, "The next time you see her, be sure to say hi to Ginny for me."
Malfoy gawked at him. That was enough of an answer for Harry.
Harry smirked and ran down the hall, feeling like a giddy second year as he distanced himself from the dumbfounded teen he left in his wake.
Haha! I knew it! Harry stopped when he had at least two floors of the castle between him and Malfoy, ignoring the odd looks he got from his schoolmates along the way. He laughed, feeling as if a burden had been thrown off of his shoulders, and sank down in an empty alcove to just sit and think.
He had figured something was going on between his ex-girlfriend and Malfoy.
Now to find out he was right… It felt pretty damn good. The new Malfoy was one he could approve of, at least tentatively. Besides, Ginny was a girl who could more than take care of herself. The curses that girl can cast. If anything, Draco was the one who he needed to be worried about.
Later he'd ask Draco or even Ginny for more information than just his hypotheses and guesses, but for now it was enough to know that the girl he was still wracked with guilt over leaving alone had moved on. Harry didn't have to feel guilty for not being the man she needed anymore. For not being able to be that man in any way, shape or form.
It was freeing.
Merlin, Malfoy thanks me and suddenly everything is sunshine and roses… Maybe I have been getting too much sleep. My brain is beginning to rot. Snape may have been right all these years after all. Harry laughed at himself, but the laughter was tampered down a tad from his earlier bout.
Back in the classroom… Malfoy may have covered for him, but it was Snape that had calmed him down. From afar, yes, but still. Even when Snape wasn't there he was saving Harry.
Malfoy had thanked him. Had essentially apologized for all of the years of their being enemies and schoolboy prats. An apology that was not in any way expected or necessary. Harry knew he was almost as guilty in the realm of schoolboy prat as Malfoy, but still… Draco apologized and thanked him. And now they were, at least hypothetical, friends.
This caused something to start nagging at his mind. Malfoy apologized for being an arse to him and thanked him for everything. This was something Harry had never really done with Snape, yet he owed him a thousand times more than what Malfoy ever deluded himself into believing he owed Harry.
Even now the man was saving Harry again, as usual, and he hasn't once thanked the man for it.
Perhaps it was high time he talked with the man.
Talking that didn't involve yelling at one another.
What did he have to lose, really?
After all, there's always St. Mungo's if things go badly.
Harry was still reeling from his unexpected encounter with Mal- Draco when he wandered into the Gryffindor Common Room after classes were out for the day.
He walked through the Portrait Hole to the usual sounds of chattering Gryffindors (somewhere in there he could distinctly hear a bickering Ron and Hermione), and wondered when his life had become so strange.
He had a sort of mutual non-entity with Snape, had just formed a truce with a Slytherin and even accepted to attempt a friendship with his oldest Wizarding World nemesis (Voldemort notwithstanding). The rest of the world was still going at the usual pace, but his life was spiraling. And he couldn't tell if it was upward, or down…
Suddenly tired, Harry dodged his way through the Common Room and made it to the spiral staircase that held his salvation: his four-poster bed.
It was just to be a small nap, that's all. Something to tide him over till his full rest that night.
His "small nap" turned into him staring at the canopy of his four-poster for two hours, attempting to will his brain to sleep. Nothing was happening.
What the hell? I've been sleeping regularly for two weeks, this is ridiculous! He gave up with a growl and flew out of his bed. It seemed he was not capable of napping that day.
He stomped the entire way down to the Great Hall, avoiding the odd looks he received, and didn't stop until he had flumped down in front of Ron and Hermione, who were otherwise occupied with feeding one another small bites of their favorite foods from their plates.
"Thank Merlin you're here, Harry," Neville looked at him like he was the most welcome sight in the world, "could you possibly do anything to save us from that?"
The "that" to which he was referring was the aforementioned Ron and Hermione adorablefest. Which neither of them seemed even the slightest bit aware was creeping some people out.
Harry laughed, shaking his head. "Sorry, guys, no can do. They're in their own little world; it would be unhealthy of me to attempt to break them from it. Besides, it involves food. We all know how Ron gets when his food is threatened."
"Oi, I can hear you, you know." Ron broke out of WeasleyGrangerLand at the sounds of laughter, taking Hermione with him.
"Mission accomplished." Harry grinned at Neville, who was holding back a cheer he was so enormously grateful. Even Ginny sent a thankful look in Harry's direction. She was chatting with Luna, who was now just a staple at the table, and a few others, not all of which were Gryffindors. The rules about Houses eating at House tables became a bit more lax after the war. House unity being something everyone strove for.
Harry wondered if Ginny knew about his and Draco's newfound truce. He inwardly shrugged, and began loading the sadly empty plate in front of him with everything he could get his hands on. Something about sleeping regularly had his appetite surging back to normal teenage male levels.
"By the way, it's about damn time you showed up, Harry. I've been looking for you everywhere." Ron ignored the bit of chicken he had flung in Harry's direction as he pointed his fork at him as he spoke. "I have a question or two to ask you. One, what did Malfoy want earlier, and two, what's this I hear about you and Malfoy being friends?"
Harry was always awed by how quickly things flew around Hogwarts. "I do believe you answered your own question with that second question, Ron." He sighed, knowing this conversation could not be headed in a pleasant direction. "Draco Malfoy and I are on civil terms as of this afternoon. Feud officially over."
Everyone within overhearing range quieted down. Not a single fork was moved. They all just froze.
Ginny and Hermione both looked at him hopefully.
"Do you mean it?" Hermione practically had "Spoken Unspoken Truce!" written on her forehead.
Harry sighed, now regretting bringing Ron out of WeasleyGrangerLand. "Yes, I do."
Ron's fork fell from his hand with a clatter that sounded like gunfire in the relative quiet. "What?"
Harry sighed. "You heard me, Ron. We're not fighting anymore." Harry scoffed at the aghast looks on Neville and Ron's faces. "Merlin, you'd think I had announced we were planning to elope. It's just a peace treaty, keep your pants on."
Everyone looked at him like he had grown another head. Dean and Seamus were confused, Hermione torn between jubilance and anger and Ginny was waiting, patiently, with bated breath. Harry didn't know who he wished would just stop looking at him the most.
Neville ground his teeth loudly and asked, "What could he possibly have done to deserve that? Seven years of you two hating each other, of all of us hating him, years of bullying and the terrible things he has done and you just up and forgive him… Why?"
Harry honestly couldn't answer his question. Not entirely. He was still sorting through things himself. So he did the only thing he could think of. Start talking and hope the actual answer eventually reveals itself.
"As Ron already said, we had a discussion today after Defense. Apologies were given, things were said, and I decided to accept his offer to end this feud once and for all. I don't know about you all, but I for one can live with one more friend and one less toxic relationship in my life. We have changed in the past few years, all of us. It was unavoidable. A war ravaged our quaint little lives and took many a thing with it. We are different people. Honestly, I would have thought you would all be happy. It is a step closer to house unity and all that crap we've been after all this time. Isn't that what we have been working toward?" Everyone nodded their heads vaguely, still taking in everything he said, but not being able to discount it. "Draco and I have decided to put the past where it belongs: behind us." Well, that sounded pretty close to an answer, he thought proudly.
It seemed enough for everyone but Ron. Slowly they all started to go back to their meals, forks and knives scraping against plates once more.
All but the Golden Trio. Harry speared a bit of chicken and almost had it to his mouth before Ron exploded.
Almost.
Ron was seething and sarcastic, neither of which were things that suited him. "Oh, so he's 'Draco' now, is he? Not 'Greasy Ferret' or any of the other names we've called him in the seven years he made it his life's mission to make our lives hell? One little conversation and you're willing to forget all of the shit he pulled, all of the times he tried to have you expelled or killed, forget all of what he let happen in his own damn house-"
Harry had had enough. After his getting no real sleep the night before and that utter failure of a nap, combined with his lack of ever being allowed to eat anymore due to his overbearing friends choosing meals to bring back nauseating memories, Harry was just not in the mood. Now Ron was, intentionally or no, casually bringing up Hermione's torture at the hands of Bellatrix.
That was not something he was going to accept.
"Yes, Ron. Sometimes things just need to be forgiven and forgotten. To be walked away from so no further damage is caused. Like this conversation right now." With that, Harry got up, plate still untouched, and waltzed out of the Great Hall.
That time, Ron knew Harry was angry with him.
Snape's bruises had healed fully by the next evening.
He stood in front of his bedroom mirror, shirtless, inspecting the former injury. He lightly ran his fingers over the spot where Potter had sunk his knuckles rather adeptly into his skin.
"Well, at least I can now say for certain that batch of Bruise Salve came out perfectly. Just wait until I get Potter back for this…" He grumbled and sent his evilest look to his reflection in the mirror.
There. There was the spark of the Old Snape. Hidden in that snarling glare. Glowing in the fire in his eyes.
Severus Snape. He was a bastard. A hated person, even amongst his "friends." He could make anyone leave a room just by existing within it. His snark, sarcasm, acidic wit and hatred for the human race were known far and wide. He was a bully and an ass. This was the person he spent years becoming, cultivating the myth and personality to go with it.
For he did not want people, nor deserve for people, to like him. The last person who liked him, accepted him for who he really was and more than just put up with him, left him. Alone, scared and shattered. In all honesty, he had pushed her away without even realizing it. He knew, from birth it seemed, that he did not deserve to be loved. So, he made her hate him, not by acting, but by showing her who he truly was. A monster. A Death Eater.
He hated the man he was. And he preferred it that way. Hated by everyone, especially himself. It was what he deserved. His true penance for getting them killed. For getting her killed.
He was alone.
He stared at his reflection.
It stared back, gaunt and pale. He was lanky and thin, rather too thin to be healthy but he never noticed. All he saw when he looked in the mirror was the scrawny child who was pushed around and powerless. The person he was once determined to never allow himself to be. That determination became the very thing that made it impossible for him to become anything humanly acceptable. Nothing but Snape.
He was entirely forgettable, aside from his nose. Greasy and pale. The only thing about him that stood out was the glaring red scar on his collarbone. His hand found it without the help of the mirror. Two exact circles, shriveled in the middle from the skin filling over but not quite within the puncture wounds, never exactly healing. There was only so much anti-venom potions, and even Poppy's skilled hands, could accomplish for his wounds. The Dark Lord's snake having done more than its job in incapacitating Severus Snape.
The wound that should have killed me… He scoffed at his mind's train of thought. Pathetic and useless, thinking over what happened that night. It's not as if he could have changed it. If he could have, what could he have truly done differently? Died? What would that have accomplished? Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
He was pulled from his ever-spiraling reverie by the sound of knocking. Realizing how far time had gotten away from him, Snape ran to quickly throw his sitting room back into proper order.
Snape made it a point to ensure his quarters were in proper and perfect order when Potter arrived. At current, his sitting room had students' essays strewn about the floor and empty red ink bottles littered the ground around his chair where he graded them. He refused to allow Potter to see his quarters this disorderly. After all, he had appearances to keep up.
With a few quick flicks of his wand, he picked the mess up and had it neatly stacked on his side table next to his book about Bicorn Horn and its uses.
That poor, lonely book.
Snape took a deep breath, put on his customary sneer, and swung the door open for Potter.
The teen smiled at seeing him, then his gaze dropped and eyes widened.
It was with a wince that Snape remembered he was still shirtless.
Shit.
Harry was pretending the fight with Ron had not occurred.
Ron, however, was not.
Harry sat on his four-poster, a scroll of parchment and his Defense book open before him, working on Remus' essay he assigned them earlier that day because, let's face it, Harry had nothing better to do.
His grades were the only things that were gaining anything from Harry's reappearing tendency to have to avoid people.
The room was nice and silent until Ron came busting through the doorway, huffing and puffing and apparently preparing to blow the house down.
"Ron, I-" Harry tried to talk with Ron about earlier, perhaps give the customary "You started it, but hey, I'll apologize anyway because I'm tired of you ignoring me," speech, but was cut off with a cold retort.
"Potter." Ron glowered at him as he grabbed his schoolbag, angrily opened it up, viciously pulled out his Defense book, snatching it by the edge of the back cover, barely managing to keep it in one piece in the process, and stormed back out of the dormitory, leaving a blaring silence in his wake.
"Well, shit." Harry sighed, putting his essay aside. He was almost finished with it anyway, and definitely didn't have the energy to finish it after Ron's outburst.
Harry realized he should be used to Ron's tantrums by now. He should know that it would all blow itself over eventually, Ron would stop being angry with him when he realized how stupid their argument was.
He should know that by now.
Still, Harry couldn't help but take it personally- again- that Ron was snipping over something Harry did. Not only that, but the fact that the thing was completely stupid.
Harry refused to regret adding Draco among his allies instead of an enemy. This was something that was long overdue. Harry was tired of hating people on principle. It took much more energy to hate someone than it did to just count them as a friend or acquaintance.
Well, unless that person is Ronald Weasley. Then it takes the patience of a saint and the resolute stubbornness of a mule to count him as a friend. One out of two isn't bad, Harry thought with a smirk.
Harry bounced out of his bed and crossed to the window. The moon was still low in the sky, the stars shining mildly from behind a still blue-black night sky. Come on, time, and speed up already. I have places to be and sleep to be had.
Harry snarled and sighed his way to bedtime, staring at the closed curtain of his four-poster until the tell-tale snoring of Neville Longbottom filled the room.
When Harry grabbed his usual overnight bag, cloak, map and wand and silently drew back the curtain to sneak out, he noticed something odd.
Ron never came to bed.
Oh, well. He probably brooded too hard to want to sleep in a room with Harry Potter. Too bad I'm not going to be here for him to explain it all away. Harry smirked, checked the aisle around Snape's room, finding nobody in the hallway, Snape's dot hanging out in what Harry knew to be his bedroom.
Over the castle and through the dungeons, to Snape's house I go.
Harry all but flew under his cloak to the expanse of castle wall he knew to be the hidden entrance to Snape's quarters. Grumbling a quick, "Bloody Gryffindors," and meaning it, Harry was greeted with the door to Casa De Snape.
Snape's dot was still in his bedroom, so Harry knocked as loudly as he could. The echo of his knocks reverberated around the stone walls as Harry checked once more for anyone who may be in range, then began shoving all of his things into his bag.
Finally the door opened, revealing the usual, casual Snape.
Or so Harry expected.
He smiled at his Professor, glad to finally be able to sleep, then couldn't help but gawk. The man was clad in his usual sleep pants, yet was missing an important aspect of his wardrobe.
Namely the t-shirt.
Snape had no shirt on.
Snape was shirtless.
Harry tried to look away, knew he should, but his eyes were fixed on Snape.
He was pale, even paler that Snape's facial tone suggested. Thin, but not too thin. More fit and only muscle, yet not toned. Harry had to admit, Snape wasn't exactly… terrible looking.
From where he stood, Harry could see slight scars everywhere. Battle wounds, Harry thought. Harry had a similar array of scars of his own.
Harry's eyes raked over Snape's chest, finally settling on the newest scar. The two puncture wounds from Nagini, Voldemort's pet snake. Harry had yet to see the wounds since that night. Harry found himself rather fixated by those scars.
In fact, Harry simply found himself rather fixated by Snape. Particularly in his shirtless form.
Snape cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable, "Are you coming in or not?" he snapped at him and practically sprinted to his room to grab his shirt.
Harry stood dazedly in the still open doorway. Eventually, he wandered into the sitting room, cautiously shutting the door to Snape's quarters behind him, only after doing one more check of the hallway to ensure no one else was a witness to… that.
Harry's bag slid on its own from his limp shoulder and onto the floor. He wasn't sure if he could go into the bedroom yet, or if he should stay in that room and wait for Snape to tell him he was allowed to go into the other room.
He didn't want to chance another encounter with a half-clothed, now angry, Snape.
So, he just stood there awkwardly in the middle of the room.
Today started out as such a normal day, too.
Snape came storming into the room seconds later, a bit winded and still midway through putting his shirt back on. Harry pointedly refused to glance or stare openly at the pale stomach he could still see before it was hidden behind Snape's customary black, cotton, t-shirt.
Snape stopped abruptly, stood for precisely three seconds, nodded to him once, turned on his heel, and made a beeline for his bedroom, extinguishing all of the lights with a flick of his wrist on his way.
Now Harry stood awkwardly in the middle of a dark room. Pulling out his own wand, he thought Lumos and found his way to Snape's bed by wandlight.
Several minutes later found them both lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Both for different, if not unrelated, reasons.
Harry's mind was swimming with a mixture of wondering how Snape had stayed that fit after spending 20 years eating Hogwarts food three times a day, and Draco and his newfound truce. Namely, how Harry really never thanked Snape for anything he had ever done.
Those scars. The fang marks. Harry was as responsible for them as the snake.
Yet he never even so much as said anything to Snape after it happened.
Perhaps it's time I changed that.
Snape was pretending nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
And that was doing just damn well fine for him.
That was how Snape preferred to live his everyday life as far as Potter was concerned. Unless he was injured, dead or going to become dead in the near future, nothing out of the ordinary was capable of happening to Potter in his view.
That just led to worrying and, often, humiliation on his part.
There they lay, in the darkness, the usual comfort his mind found the sound of another's even breathing being destroyed by Potter's glaring act of still being awake.
Snape rolled over, facing the wall and putting Potter behind him.
He didn't know what was so damn important to Potter that was keeping the Gryffindor awake, but knew he needed to forget about it already if Snape was expected to get any sleep.
Potter sighed louder than his previous and usual sighs, and spoke, "About last night, Snape. Thanks."
Snape just scoffed in reply, rolling over onto his back once more.
Another twenty minutes of, less-enraging than before, silence and Potter spoke again. Just one, small phrase.
"Thank you."
Snape grimaced. Years of not a single word of thanks being spoken and suddenly he got two in one night? To what did he owe this wonderful honor? Even his thoughts were sarcastic as replied with a sigh, "Potter, this wasn't just for your sake that I agreed to this-"
"No, I don't mean for this." Potter had his attention. "Well, okay, for this, too, but I mean- thank you. For everything. I know I haven't said it before and… and I should have. You've saved my life more times than I deserved and I just- I wanted you to know I'm thankful. So… thanks."
Snape was too bewildered to reply, so he just nodded in the darkness, and made a generally positive sound. Potter chuckled lightly, rolled over and fell almost right to sleep.
Snape followed suit and rolled over, facing Potter's back. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so he could just make out the outline of the thorn in his side.
Perhaps this arrangement isn't as bad as I had previously thought it to be, Snape thought before drifting off to sleep, a small smile gracing his features.
That night, he dreamt of ungrateful brats, this time knowing they were, beyond all odds, anything but.
AN: So now you know what I meant by the chapter getting a bit out of hand.
A lot wanted to throw itself into this chapter. Several different plotlines, some backstory, a touch of explanation and a dash of Trio fighting.
The chapter was going so normally, until all of a sudden I was typing Snape angst and BOOM- Shirtless.
Don't worry. Snape's not changing any time soon. A thank you isn't enough to change his entire worldview.
Things that seemed reeeaally odd in this chapter shall be explained in later ones, I swear. They are not just random.
Nothing so far in this story, expected by the author or no, is random.
At least as far as I know...
I am now going to sleep, as it is 4am and I have to get up in a grand total of 3 hours. Happy reading, hopefully it won't be months before the next update. :D
I hope to hear from you all in reviews, for those are the wonderful sustenance that keeps this author going. Positive or no.
Yours truly,
ForeverJynxed
