Author's Note: Oh dear…the time between updates just keeps getting worse and worse, doesn't it? I really do try. I just…have tended to fail recently. Too much going on. I promise you nothing except the fact that I am still working on all my fanfics, and they will be updated, as soon as I can get them.
-SQ
Disclaimer: Are you kidding? I don't even own a Pottermore account, or at least a functional one. The stupid validation email didn't come. Yes, I've send in a complaint.
Chapter Ten: Too Young
"Ginny—" said Harry, "the sword—"
"I know!" said Hermione.
She grabbed her enchanted beaded bag and dug around inside it while Harry and Ron stared at each other, still reeling from the conversation they had just overheard on between Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell.
"Here…we…are," panted Hermione, yanking her arm out of the bag. Along with it came a large, ornate picture frame, which Harry hurried to help her with.
"If somebody swapped the real sword for the fake while it was in Dumbledore's office," said Hermione breathlessly, her wand pointing at the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black she and Harry were lifting out of her bag, "Phineas Nigellus would have seen it happen, he hangs right beside the case!"
Harry helped Hermione prop the painting against the side of the tent and then sat back on his heels as Hermione called the name of the portrait's occupant.
At first she got no response, but after several persistent attempts and a 'please', the former headmaster of Hogwarts slid into view.
"Obsucro!" said Hermione hurriedly, and a blindfold appeared over Phineas Nigellus's eyes.
The man sputtered in protest, demanding that they remove the blindfold and tell him where he was and what was going on. He only stopped when he heard Harry's voice.
It wasn't a particularly pleasant conversation, as Phineas Nigellus kept insulting them and their friends and demanding respect for himself and Snape, but they did learn one valuable thing—the sword of Godric Gryffindor, which Dumbledore had left Harry, had the ability to destroy Horcruxes. The only problem was that they didn't have the faintest idea where the real sword was.
Well, that and the fact that Ron had finally decided he had had enough of Harry and Dumbledore and Horcruxes and the whole mess and had up and left them.
Now Harry lay on his back on his bunk, staring up at the tent roof above his head and listening to the downpour around them. He couldn't ever remember feeling this miserable in his entire life. It seemed as though everything was piling up to make his life more unbearable by the day. He had lost Sirius, Dumbledore, Snape, Hogwarts, and now even Ron, the friend he had thought would stand by him through anything, had left him. And he still had to find the bloody Horcruxes and kill Voldemort, or else allow Voldemort to kill him. He had to admit that occasionally it seemed an inviting prospect.
Harry was only seventeen; he was too young for this kind of responsibility, to face these kinds of horrors. He had spent so much of his life insisting he was old enough for whatever people had to throw at him and having those people tell him that he wasn't. He was starting to believe that they had been right.
*****CTU*****
When Harry and Ron arrived for their first NEWT level Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, Hermione was already there, waiting outside the closed door with her arms full of books. Harry hadn't spoken to Snape since before the welcome feast. He had been in such a bad mood then about being caught and incapacitated by Malfoy that he hadn't been thinking about what he had heard Malfoy say. Now, however, he was thinking about it, and what Malfoy had been doing in Knockturn Alley. Ron and Hermione remained unconvinced that Malfoy was anything other than boastful and annoying, but Harry knew, he knew that something more was going on with the Slytherin. Malfoy was a Death Eater, that's all there was to it, and if Ron and Hermione didn't believe him, then maybe Snape would.
As if summoned by Harry's thoughts, Snape himself stepped into the corridor. Immediately the group of waiting students fell silent.
"Inside," said Snape.
Harry looked around the room as he and the rest of class followed Snape inside. Typical Snape; the curtains were drawn and candles placed at various intervals around the room cast the space in equal patches of flickering light and shadow. There were also several rather gruesome paintings on the walls that didn't bear closer examination.
"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape in that soft voice that somehow captured his students' attention more effectively than any shout. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention."
Harry watched as Snape cast his gaze appraisingly over the group of sixth-years. When his dark eyes met Harry's green ones they lingered for just a fraction of a second; a barely noticeable acknowledgement, but a meaningful one.
Snape continued his introduction, expounding upon the importance and intricacies of the Dark Arts. Harry hung onto his every word. Snape did know the Dark Arts. Well, of course he did, he had been a Death Eater. But it was obvious that he was a passionate about defending against them as his former compatriots were about using them. Defense had always been Harry's favorite subject, but now Harry was even more excited for it than before.
Ron, next to him, didn't look nearly as thrilled about Snape teaching the class, but Harry had given up on making his best friend see the Potions Master—now Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—in a better light. Snape was a hard man to like. And an even harder one to get along with.
After Snape had finished speaking, they paired up to practice non-verbal jinxes. Harry was partnered with Ron, whose lips were presses tightly together as he fought the urge to utter the spell aloud. So far he had had no luck in jinxing Harry, who was growing a bit tired of waiting on edge for nothing.
Suddenly Snape was beside them.
"Pathetic, Weasley," he said with his usual lack of consideration toward anyone who was not a Slytherin and not Harry. "Here—let me show you—"
He turned at lightning speed, drawing his wand as he went. Harry reacted out of instinct, his body taking him back to the hours he had spent practicing Occlumency with Snape the previous year.
"Protego!"
The Shield Charm erupted from his wand with enough force to knock Snape off-balance into a desk. The entire class stopped what they were doing and stared at the two of them.
Snape straightened his robes, scowling at Harry.
"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?"
"Yes," said Harry, a touch sheepishly. "Only you took me by surprise and—"
"Quiet, Potter. A simple 'yes' would have been sufficient. If you remember me telling you to use nonverbal spells, why did you not do so?"
"I told you, you took me by surprise—" started Harry again.
"That often happens when someone is jinxing you," said Snape archly.
A few of the Slytherins tittered.
Harry scowled. "I'll do it next time," he said.
"I daresay you will, Potter," said Snape. "I will see you Saturday night in my office."
Harry gaped at him. Was Snape giving him a detention? For saying a spell out loud? Snape hadn't given him a detention since—since—since his third year when he had gone to his detention ill and collapsed and everything between them had started to change.
"Close your mouth, Potter," said Snape brusquely. "You look like a fish."
Harry snapped his mouth shut, his brain still reeling.
*****CTU*****
"That git!" said Ron after class. "What's he playing at, giving you a detention? You didn't even do anything!"
"Technically he didn't say it was a detention," said Hermione. "He just said for Harry to meet him in his office on Saturday night."
"Please, Hermione," said Ron, "what else could it be? A tea party?"
Harry was inclined to agree with him, though now that he thought about it, Hermione was right, Snape hadn't explicitly stated that he was giving Harry a detention. And Harry had wanted to talk to the man, though preferably starting off on a better foot than this seemed to be.
Harry had to wait longer than until Saturday to find out what it was really about, however. Not five minutes later, Jack Sloper ran up to him and handed him a roll of parchment.
Dear Harry,
I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at 8 p.m. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops
*****CTU*****
Harry had not enjoyed Professor Slughorn's first 'Slug Club' party one bit, and so he was actually glad to receive a message from Professor Snape that he was, in no uncertain terms, expected in the man's office that night, regardless of any parties he might have been invited to. It was almost as if Snape was intentionally saving him from having to attend another one of Slughorn's little soirées. Except, of course, that Harry still didn't know why Snape wanted to see him. Or how mad he'd be that he'd had to decline the first summons.
Harry walked down the familiar chilly corridor to Snape's office and knocked on the door, waiting for the silky voice to bid him entry. When it did he turned the doorknob hesitantly and entered the room.
"Er, hello, Professor. You wanted to see me."
"Yes," said Snape. "A pity you had to miss your little party," he added, his lip curling slightly.
"No," said Harry, "it's really not. Detention with you might actually be better than another party with Slughorn."
Snape made a sound that might have been a chuckle. "How flattering. However, this is not a detention."
"It's not?" said Harry, feeling both relieved and confused. "What is it, then?"
"I think it is about time you and I picked back up where we left off with Occlumency."
Harry blinked. His last Occlumency lesson with Snape had gone rather poorly, considering he had ended up seeing one of Snape's worst memories that he had been specifically keeping from him. The two of them had eventually made up, but no mention had been made of continuing the Occlumency lessons.
"You are resembling a fish again, Harry," said Severus.
"Oh," said Harry. "Er, sorry. I was just surprised. You want to continue giving me Occlumency lessons?"
"I believe that is what I just said," said Severus. "You do, I take it, still need them?" He raised an eyebrow knowingly.
"Er…" said Harry shuffling his feet. "They might help, yeah…"
"Very well then," said Snape. "Then let's get started, shall we."
*****CTU*****
Harry realized quickly that he was quite out of practice where Occlumency was concerned. Snape drove into his mind without (or at least with minimal) mercy, leaving him breathless and gasping following each onslaught. After three quarters of an hour, Snape finally lowered his wand.
"You have been slacking," he observed.
Harry said nothing.
"I expect you to clear your mind every night before you go to sleep."
"Yes sir," said Harry.
"Good boy."
Harry looked up at him, risking a small smile.
Severus's expression softened slightly in return. "You may leave, now."
"Actually, Professor…there was something I wanted to talk to you about."
"Yes?"
Harry fidgeted. "Well…it's actually about…Draco Malfoy." He related to his professor everything he had witnessed in Knocturn Alley and on the Hogwarts Express.
"And your point in telling me this is…?"
"Malfoy is obviously a Death Eater!" Harry exploded.
Snape stared at him impassively. "And what proof do you have of this?"
"What proof—? I just told you what he was saying on the train, didn't I? And the way he was holding his arm—I know he's got a Dark Mark on it, just like you!"
Severus's eyes narrowed slightly. "You know no such thing, Harry. You would do well to recognize the difference between knowledge and pure speculation."
"But surely you must know it," said Harry. "Vol—He thinks you're working for him. You would know if Malfoy became a Death Eater!"
"Certainly I would," said Severus. "If he had."
"Are you saying he hasn't, then?" said Harry. No. He had been so sure. He was sure!
"I am saying that whether he has or he has not, it is of no concern of yours. The doings of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters are being closely monitored."
"By you."
"Precisely."
"But it sounded like he was planning—"
"It is none of your concern, Harry."
"But—"
"End of discussion."
Harry glared mutinously at his professor. "I know there's something you're keeping from me."
"Know all you want, Harry, I will say no more on the matter. You may leave."
And a very disgruntled Harry had no choice but to do so.
*****CTU*****
"I tell you, Snape just as good as told me that Malfoy is a Death Eater!"
"That's not what it sounds like to me," said Hermione. "It sounds like he told you to keep your nose out of other people's business. And I have to say that I agree with him."
"As much as I hate to say it, mate, so do I," said Ron.
Harry gritted his teeth. Malfoy was a Death Eater and he was up to something, no matter what anyone else said.
*****CTU*****
Well, he had been right about that," Harry thought, the knowledge not bringing him much comfort as he lay on his back in the spell-protected tent, listening to the rain. Malfoy had been a Death Eater assigned the task of killing Dumbledore. Not that he had done a particularly good job of it; but what did it matter, when Severus Snape was more than willing to pick up the slack?
*****CTU*****
"So, what did you find out about the necklace?"
Snape looked up from the papers he was grading. "Good evening to you too, Harry."
"Good evening," said Harry hurriedly. "The necklace?"
"Patience is a virtue, Harry," said Severus, making a last mark on the paper in front of him and then pushing the stack aside. "The necklace," said Snape after a lengthy pause, "was cursed."
"I know that!" said Harry impatiently. "Do you know who cursed it?"
"It appears to have been cursed by whoever created it."
"Do you know who sent it though?"
"I have my suspicions."
"Well?"
"Well, I think it is time to start our Occlumency lesson. Wand out, please."
*****CTU*****
Yes, go ahead, avoid the topic, thought Harry savagely. That's always been your specialty. That and lying through your teeth.
*****CTU*****
Professor Trelawney and Professor Slughorn, not exactly the two people Harry would have chosen to have a conversation with. Unfortunately, these were exactly the two people who were now standing on either side of them, discussing the merits of and Harry's skills (or lack-there-of) in their respective subjects.
"Instinctive, you know, just like his mother!" Slughorn was saying, causing Harry to feel distinctly hot around the collar. "I've only ever taught a few with this kind of ability, I can tell you that, Sybill—why even Severus—"
Harry's dismay at the situation quadrupled as he suddenly found Snape pulled into their little group.
As Slughorn continued to expound upon Harry's exceptional skill in Potions, Snape caught Harry with his shrewd gaze, a pointed question in the deep, black eyes.
Luckily the conversation veered off into Harry's other classes, which, as Snape noted blandly, were all of the ones he needed to become an Auror.
"Yeah, well, that's what I'd like to do," said Harry, shrugging.
"And a great one you'll make too!" said Slughorn in his drunken boom.
"I don't think you should be an Auror," said Luna suddenly from beside him. Harry started slightly; he had forgotten she was there. "The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They're working to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease."
Harry laughed, choking on his mead as he did so. Leave it to Luna to turn a rather uncomfortable discussion into a hilarious one with one statement.
When Harry finally recovered, he saw something that made his grin grow even wider: Draco Malfoy was being dragged across the room toward them by a gleefully quivering Argus Filch.
"Alright, I wasn't invited!" said Malfoy angrily, wrenching himself away from Filch. "I was trying to gatecrash, happy?"
"No, I'm not!" said Filch, even though he obviously was. His happiness diminished slightly, however, when Slughorn waved a large hand and allowed Malfoy to stay. What intrigued Harry, however, was that Malfoy did not look at all pleased with this outcome. And what was with the look Snape was giving Malfoy? It was more than anger, there was something deeper there, like the kinds of looks Snape sometimes gave him…
Before Harry had time to ponder this more thoroughly, the expression vanished and Malfoy was thanking (and sucking up to) Slughorn for allowing him to stay. Harry watched the blonde through his fringe. He looked pale, even more so than usual, almost ill…
"I'd like a word with you, Draco," Snape cut in, interrupting whatever Slughorn had been saying.
"Oh, now, Severus, it's Christmas, don't be too hard—"
"I'm his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be," said Snape shortly. "Follow me, Draco."
He led Malfoy away and, after a brief pause, Harry excused himself and hurried after them. He knew that Snape would have his hide if he caught him spying on him, but he just couldn't resist. That damn curiosity.
Covered by the Invisibility Cloak, Harry ran down the corridor, hoping that Snape hadn't taken Malfoy too far away. He was in luck; after a minute he located their voices behind a closed classroom door.
"…cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled—"
Harry held his breath, pressing his ear closer to the cool metal of the keyhole.
"I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?"
What hadn't Malfoy had anything to do with? What did Snape suspect him of?
"I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected in having a hand in it."
Having a hand in what?
"Who suspects me?" demanded Malfoy's voice, sharp with anger. "For the last time, I didn't do it, okay? That Bell girl must've had an enemy no one knows about it—"
Bell? Katie! The necklace! So Snape did suspect Malfoy of sending it! Harry felt annoyed and smug at the same time.
Malfoy and Snape continued to argue, and with every word it became more and more clear, Draco was a Death Eater, he had to be! Snape was offering to help him, obviously so that he could find out more about what he was doing.
You could have told me, thought Harry grumpily. But even as he thought it he knew why Snape hadn't. Just like he wouldn't have gone talking to Malfoy about Harry behind his back; he would see whatever Malfoy was doing as none of Harry's concern. A sentiment he had already expressed more than once.
Bother Snape and his secrecy, thought Harry.
Suddenly Harry's thoughts were broken by the sound of Malfoy's footsteps. He barely had time enough to throw himself aside before the door flew open and Malfoy came striding out of it, followed by Snape. It was only after they had both been out of sight for several minutes that Harry finally picked himself up off the floor and headed back toward Slughorn's Christmas party, now even less in the mood for it than he had been before.
*****CTU*****
"Okay," said Ron. "I believe you that Malfoy's up to something. You said Snape was offering to help him?"
"Only so that he could find out what his plan is," said Harry impatiently. "But this proves I'm right! Malfoy is a Death Eater."
"It does look that way," admitted Ron. "What exactly did Snape say to him?"
"A bunch of stuff," said Harry, not nearly as concerned with what Snape had said as with what Malfoy was up to. "He basically accused Malfoy of sending the necklace that cursed Katie, talked a bit about Occlumency, offered—almost insisted—to help him, mentioned something about an Unbreakable Vow—"
"An Unbreakable Vow?" demanded Ron.
"That's what he said," said Harry. "He said he'd made an Unbreakable Vow to Malfoy's mum. What does it mean? Is it important?"
"Yeah it's important!" said Ron. "You can't break an Unbreakable Vow—"
"No, really?" said Harry dryly. "I hadn't realized. What happens if you do break it?"
"You die," said Ron.
*****CTU*****
Harry debated all Christmas break whether to confront Snape about what he had seen. Finally he came to the conclusion that such an action would accomplish nothing other than making his professor extremely angry with him. Instead he decided to keep an eye on Malfoy himself. After all, surely even Snape could use a hand sometimes, even if he was unaware that it was being given. This perfectly logical reasoning didn't stop him from feeling guilty about hiding things from Snape.
Merling, how far we've come…
*****CTU*****
Harry's skills at Occlumency, while still altogether shoddy in comparison with Snape's, were improving at a steady pace. He was no longer waking up in the middle of the night in cold sweats, visions seen through Lord Voldemort's eyes still playing in his mind's eye. He was even able to keep Snape from finding out about his obsession with what Malfoy was up to, though it occurred to him that this might have more to with Snape's recent air of distraction than with any real prowess on Harry's part.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor seemed to be under an even greater amount of stress than usual lately. It wasn't something that would have been obvious to the casual observer, but to Harry, whose relationship with Snape had progressed past that of mere teacher and student some time ago, it was almost obvious.
"Professor," said Harry, as Snape lowered his want after his latest round of Legilimency and used the thumb and forefinger of his other hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, "are you alright?"
"I am quite well, Harry," said Snape waspishly. "I merely have a slight headache."
"You shouldn't work so hard with a migraine," said Harry.
"I never said it was a migraine," said Snape.
"I know."
Severus scowled at the teenager. "How did I ever manage to get saddled with you, Potter?" he said with no real malice.
Harry shrugged, by now used to the man's insults-that-really-weren't. "Extraordinarily bad luck?"
"For whom, I wonder?" Snape muttered. He sank into his chair, closing his eyes and massaging his temples. "You've done well today, Harry."
"Er, thank you, sir," said Harry, surprised by the compliment. He expected Snape to dismiss him, but when he didn't he ventured, "Er, Professor, is something the matter?"
"'Er' is not a word, Harry," said Snape without opening his eyes.
Harry rolled his eyes, something he wouldn't have dared to do had his professor's own eyes been open. "Is something the matter, then?"
"What makes you ask?"
"Well…" said Harry slowly. "You've been…distracted lately, as though you've got something on your mind."
"I have many things on my mind, Harry, few of them good."
Harry nodded his acknowledgement, though his professor could not see. "Something new, I mean. Ha—I mean, someone said you were arguing with Professor Dumbledore."
Severus opened his eyes. "Who said I was arguing with the Headmaster?"
"No one," said Harry quickly. "Just another student, don't remember his name."
Harry could tell that Snape was unconvinced, but he didn't push the issue. "A minor disagreement. Being a spy in the Dark Lord's ranks can be a…difficult and tiresome job."
Harry nodded fervently. He could only imagine.
"You may go," said Severus after a few minutes of silence. "I'm sure you have work to be doing."
Harry nodded again, standing and hefting his book bag onto his shoulder. "See you later, professor," he said. "Feel better."
The smallest hint of a smile graced Snape's lips. "I shall try, Harry. Goodnight."
*****CTU*****
Snape's distraction served to Harry's advantage for approximately one month.
"Harry, what was that?"
"What was what?" asked Harry, rubbing his forehead, which was aching slightly after Snape's latest onslaught.
"That memory. The one which featured Mr. Malfoy and myself exiting a room at which you had been listening at the keyhole."
"Er…"
"How many times do I have to tell you, Harry, that 'er,' is not a word?"
"It was at Slughorn's Christmas party," said Harry, knowing he was caught and not wanting to dig his grave any deeper.
"I am aware of that," said Severus. "What I am unsure of is what you were doing there, during what was supposed to be a private conversation between Mr. Malfoy and myself."
"I followed you," admitted Harry reluctantly.
"Why? Besides out of a great desire to be severely punished."
"I wanted to know what Malfoy was up to!"
"You had no proof that he was 'up to' anything."
"I did after hearing that conversation!"
"Which you were not meant to hear."
"Okay, I get it, I shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but Malfoy is a Death Eater! I asked you and you wouldn't give me a straight answer, but I knew it! I…" Harry's next words died in his throat when he saw the expression on Snape's face.
"Draco Malfoy," he said softly, leaning forward until he was invading Harry's personal space, "is a boy who has been made to face things he is too young to face—much like someone else I know."
Harry swallowed and nodded mutely.
"This is the last time we will speak of this."
Harry nodded again.
"Good," said Snape, rising to his feet and drawing his wand. "Wand up. Clear your mind. Legilimens!"
*****CTU*****
"…a boy who has been made to face things he is too young to face…"
Harry listened to the rain running down the sides of the tent, making the fabric ripple overhead. He didn't know which were worse, the memories where he knew what he should have done differently, or the ones where he honestly had no clue. Should he have kept tracking Malfoy after that conversation with Snape? If he had would anything have turned out differently? Would he have learned the truth about Snape sooner? Harry doubted it, Snape had had him charmed just like Dumbledore and the rest; he didn't know if this made him feel better or worse.
It was a restless night for both occupants of the tent, the knowledge of the empty bed weighing down on them like a physical presence. And it was with bleary eyes and heavy hearts that the two of them packed up their belongings the next day and began to make plans for the next step of their seemingly never-ending journey.
AN: Not really much to say here, hopefully you'll have more to say than I do, and will do so in a review ;)
-SQ