Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Twenty-Five—A Small Trust

"Mr. Potter, you will be attending dance lessons so that we can make sure none of the Champions embarrass their schools on the dance floor."

Theo sees Harry's shoulders tighten. It doesn't help, he's sure, that Professor McGonagall has come up to him in the middle of a corridor between classes, so there are dozens of other curious students turning around and gaping at them. Harry reaches down and presses Chaos back onto all four legs.

"With respect, Professor McGonagall, I've already been offered dance lessons," Harry says, and manages a small, tight smile at the Head of Gryffindor, which is more than Theo would have managed in his life.

McGonagall blinks and pushes a pin holding her grey hair under her hat back. "May I inquire as to who will be giving you those lessons, Mr. Potter?"

"Professor Snape has offered them to me, Professor."

Someone snickers in the background, but the professor just nods as if she's satisfied and walks away. Theo watches to make sure she's gone before he comes up to walk on Harry's left side. Blaise is already on the right. "He did offer those lessons to you, over the summer," he whispers. "And you wrote to me to say that you refused them."

"I did."

Theo rolls his eyes. It's also true that Harry never told Professor McGonagall that he intended to take the lessons, just that he'd been offered them. Harry is becoming subtler every day. Theo would applaud that if Harry didn't also try to be subtle with his friends. "You don't care about embarrassing your school?"

"I got forced into this, Theo. You're damn right that I don't give a fuck about embarrassing Hogwarts."

Theo blinks at Harry's voice. Like winter, he thinks. He watches Harry stride away towards Potions class, Chaos running after him for once instead of walking ahead, and students parting like a shallow stream in front of him.

Theo tilts his head thoughtfully as he follows, and exchanges a glance with Blaise that lets him know Blaise is thinking the same thing.

Maybe Harry ought to lose his temper more often. At least it gets rid of that tired tone that's in his voice all the time.

"Can I talk to you, Potter."

"What an inspiring beginning to this conversation," Harry drawls, turning around. It's weird. It's almost like the conversation with Professor McGonagall this morning, or the session with Healer Lyndell yesterday, or something, gave him permission to be angry. He supposes he might as well. Chaos actually seems calmer when he talks back to people. Maybe she thinks that she doesn't have to defend him all the time if he's angry on his own behalf. "Not even a question mark added on to that."

Lavender flushes brightly as she faces him. Harry doesn't particularly care. He stares at her. She's the one who sabotaged his potion last week. If she wanted consideration and gentle words and everything, she shouldn't act like the embodiment of every stupid House prejudice.

"I—can we go somewhere else?" Lavender is looking over his shoulder, and Harry knows that Blaise and Theo have come up to stand behind him. For that matter, Ron and Hermione have come up behind Lavender, and from the way her shoulders tense, she knows it. Draco and Daphne are lingering near the door.

"No," Harry says. He shouldn't take delight in the way she flinches, but there, she does and he does. "You started this in the open, and you tried to hurt me last week. We'll finish this in public, too."

"But perhaps not in the doorway of my classroom," Snape says smoothly from behind them. Harry nods to him and moves out of the way, down into the corridor, so the third-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs can enter. Snape leans against the doorway with his arms folded. Harry doesn't miss the flash of his wand up one sleeve.

"Fine." Lavender straightens her shoulders. "I—wanted to say I was sorry, but you shouldn't be making people fight You-Know-Who with you!"

"I didn't know I was engaged in any running battles with Voldemort lately. And I didn't know I could put people under the Imperius Curse, either."

Theo makes a sharp, delighted intake of breath behind him, and Blaise outright laughs. Harry smiles himself. Lavender is struggling between what she probably wants to say and what she knows she should, from her face.

"I mean," Lavender says. "You're just always holding that study group, and I heard that you're training people in advanced spells and wandless magic! So you want them to fight. What if we don't want to be part of your war?"

"Then you don't need to be." Harry just shakes his head when she opens her mouth again. "Seriously, Lavender, I've never made anyone study with me who doesn't want to. And you especially don't have to. If I had my way, this lot would study some magic with me and learn how to protect themselves and then walk away. So that, you know, Voldemort wouldn't focus on them the way he does me."

Lavender practically leaps back this time when he says Voldemort's name. Blaise puts a hand on Harry's shoulder that would feel like a chain if Harry didn't know better. "That won't happen," he says in a bright voice.

"I know," Harry says. He's not going to say anything else, in front of someone like Lavender, but he gets the feeling he and Blaise will be having a conversation later.

"I just," Lavender says, and then her composure breaks down and she wails in a way that makes Chaos pin her wings back. "You probably despise anybody who just wants to sit out the war and let the adults fight it!"

"This is about what I think of you?" Harry pauses. "Honestly, Lavender, I don't really think of you at all."

Tears begin to well up in Lavender's eyes. Harry turns away. Maybe she wants to apologize, but she's not there yet, not if she spends more of the time demanding explanations of him and taunting him. Harry says absently, "Theo. With me. I'll talk to the rest of you later." They have a lengthy walk to Herbology next, which will give him time to talk to Theo in relative privacy.

Theo catches up to Harry with no more than a flicker of his eyelashes at anyone else. His fellow Slytherins are already obeying Harry, and so are the Gryffindors who come as part of the group. Since Harry is so opposed to the command structure, Theo wonders if he actually realizes he gave a command.

But he isn't about to make Harry pause at the moment to find out.

They come out of the castle, and Harry takes a deep breath and glances at Theo. "I wanted to trust you with something. I don't want you to tell anyone else."

Theo nods immediately. He thinks he knows part of the reason Harry chose him. There are others in their group who would hesitate or try to set some condition like "unless it puts you in danger" or "unless Professor Snape really needs to know."

But Theo can keep as silent as his mother if he wants to. He watches the muscles in Harry's shoulders flex for a second and thinks he might have to.

"I don't feel at home in the wizarding world in the way everyone thinks I do," Harry finally mutters, when the greenhouses are close enough that Theo thinks he's changed his mind. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I prefer it to the Muggle world. I got treated badly in the Muggle world."

Theo says nothing, because he knows Harry doesn't want anything said, but that is one of the things he will do something about if he ever gets the chance.

"I didn't know I was a wizard until I was eleven years old. Sometimes I still feel like a Muggle inside." Harry closes his eyes. "I don't know what to do with that."

Theo thinks about it for a moment. Then he says, "If you feel like that, of course it's kind of horrendous, but one thing you should know is that you fit into this world better than most people I've known."

Harry pops one eye open and studies him. "Maybe I should have chosen someone to trust who would be better at comforting."

"I meant what I said. It's horrible if you feel that way. But I think part of this is about the way that you think you come across to others, isn't it? You think that you probably seem incompetent to others."

Harry shifts his shoulders. "I know I come across that way to other people. But I'm not entirely sure how I would go about changing it."

"You come across as incredibly competent, Harry, not the other way around. How many thirteen-year-olds can manage wandless magic?"

"I'm fourteen."

Theo allows himself to roll his eyes, something he would never do if this was any of his other friends. Well, at least any of his other Slytherin friends. "You were thirteen when I first saw you do it. How many fourteen-year-olds survive as well with werewolf scars as you have? And endless nightmares? And endless practice to try and get stronger and take on a madman? The only people who could think you're incompetent are the ones who believe all the stories we were told when we were kids and think you should be some flawless hero."

Harry is quiet while he thinks about that. They've come to a halt outside the greenhouse. The others are lingering, near enough that they might overhear something Harry doesn't want them to hear. Theo gives them a mild glare. He doesn't understand why Granger pales and tugs Weasley along with her into the greenhouse. It's nothing to the glare he's going to give his father the day he watches him die.

"I didn't think of it that way," Harry finally says.

"Exactly. And you don't necessarily have to. Don't believe me if you don't want to. But I'm telling you the truth, and that's important. It's one of the reasons that we'll follow you until you tell us to go away."

"Because I'm competent?"

"That, and you protect us." Theo wishes he could say all the things he wants to, but they really do catch and stick in his throat. He's never had anyone to share them with before. His father certainly wasn't much of a protector, and when his mother was alive, he didn't need to say them. "I know you'd do anything for us."

Harry half-closes his eyes. "Most of my nightmares are of me being too late to do something," he whispers. Chaos nuzzles his leg.

Theo thinks that might actually be a greater secret than the one about Harry being uncomfortable in the wizarding world. He squeezes Harry's arm. "We'll do our best to help you protect them."

"You're talking about—oh, wait, you're talking about you and the others who followed you into this ridiculous lieutenant system. Why did I let you talk me into this again?"

Theo shakes his head. "You need to learn how to delegate responsibility. And we're the ones who are closest to you and the strongest in the study group. We can protect the others."

Harry is quiet for a second. Then he runs a hand through his hair and mutters, "We're going to be late for Herbology."

Theo nods in acknowledgement, but he isn't quite ready to let the moment go. "I just wanted to let you know that you can rely on me, and Blaise, and your other friends."

"You put yourself first, of course," Harry says, but there's fondness in his eyes, and Theo relaxes from the stance he was about to adopt, one that would use jokes to distance the acknowledgment if he had to. Harry isn't making fun of him. And he's still the one Harry chose to hear his secrets. "Come on. Let's get to Herbology. I promise that I'll think about this. Maybe some of it can stop the nightmares."

Theo nods in silence and follows Harry. He would do a lot more than that to stop the nightmares if Harry let him. He would brew Dreamless Sleep for him. He would attend sessions with Healer Lyndell and talk Harry through some of her suggestions. He would kill Harry's enemies.

But Harry would reject most of those contributions. The best thing Theo can do right now is remove some of the responsibility from Harry's shoulders as it come along, and be his friend.

The day of the full moon, Harry wakes up with a blazing pain in the side of his face. He gets up and gets ready for the rest of the day without acknowledging it. It's not as agonizing as the first attack was.

Hell, it's not as painful as some of the things the Dursleys said to him when they were still alive.

But more to the point, if he rubs the scars and groans and the like, then he'll get more people than just Goyle looking nervously at him.

Things take a turn for the worse at breakfast when Harry physically can't open his mouth to eat. He tries, he really does, especially when he notices Professor Snape's narrowed eyes from a distance. Being dragged away from breakfast to swallow a potion would be humiliating.

But he can't do it. He ends up pushing the food around on his plate and in his porridge bowl instead, and Theo and Blaise and Draco and Ron and Hermione all notice, from the way they sit up. Daphne would probably notice the same thing, but she's still deep in the process of writing her oath and tends to work on it every moment they're not actually in class or the study group.

Snape swoops down next to him, a silent shadow. "You look to be in some pain, Mr. Potter," he murmurs, and holds out the potion.

Harry can barely crack his jaw open to take it. He ignores the stares and the mutters, and manages to pour it down his throat. It makes his stomach churn for a second—it's really not supposed to be taken when you haven't had anything to eat—but then it calms. Harry nods as the pain in his scars fades a bit.

Snape's eyes narrow. "That didn't take care of all of it?"

"No."

"Exactly where is this pain located, Mr. Potter?"

Harry still doesn't want to point it out and panic the people at breakfast. He sets his jaw and then manages to smile a little. "Can I show you in private, sir? It would really be better that way."

Snape's eyes are slits now, to the point that Harry wonders irreverently how he'll manage to see to walk, but he nods and sweeps out of the Great Hall. Harry follows. He can hear at least one person coming behind them, but Snape being there is good for something. One steady glare over Harry's shoulder, and the footsteps retreat.

"Now," Snape says, the minute they're around the corner from the Great Hall and he can speak without being overheard. "I want you to tell me what's wrong right now."

The words are a sharp enough crack that they might have made Harry obey even if he hadn't spent the summer with Snape and come to trust him a little. He nods. "The—the scars. They started blazing when I woke up this morning. They feel the way they did when they were new."

Snape's hands promptly come down and rest on his face, tilting his head back and forth. Harry manages not to scream, but barely. The scars are on fire again, as if he never took a pain potion at all.

"Mr. Potter? Harry!"

The pain is rushing up all around him. The world is burning. Harry is fighting to stay on his feet. He knows he has to stay on his feet. He can't faint. Or they'll all suspect him of being a werewolf and then Severus and the rest will be ostracized and he'll be expelled from Hogwarts and then maybe Dumbledore will do something so that he can get control of him again—

The touch of fingers on his scars makes him flinch wildly away, and then he's running, away, away, towards the entrance hall, towards something cool and soothing. Air. Outside air. Cold water. He has to get away. He has to dip his face into the lake. That would soothe what's happening to him.

He runs and he runs, stumbling and falling, and he can hear someone running behind him but he doesn't know who it is, although they sound strange for some reason. He makes it to the lake and he lies down next to it, panting, but the scars on his cheek still hurt and his head is spinning.

"Just who I wanted to see."

Harry jerks his head up. Crouched on the lakeshore next to him is Fenrir Greyback. He gives Harry almost a pleasant smile and reaches towards him with one hand cupped, his nails standing out grotesquely.

Harry knows what will happen if Greyback touches him—being snatched away and carried into the Forbidden Forest is the best thing he can imagine—but those scars, those damn scars that can control him somehow, are suddenly turning his whole head to stone and not letting him move.

Greyback looms over Harry—

And then he shrieks as Chaos leaps high and blasts him in the face with dragonfire.