Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Heir
Chapter Twenty-Seven:
"How was your summer, Potter?" came the cordial question the moment Harry had settled down at the table with the other Slytherins.
Harry's eyebrow went up and he said to Pansy, "Lovely, thank you. And yours, Pansy?" in the most cordial tone he had. The Parkinson girl didn't normally speak to him, jealous as she was over Harry's friendship with her betrothed. And the other girls tended to avoid whomever Parkinson was avoiding. Harry wasn't entirely sure he understood much about that, and all that Tom would do when prodded in past years was chuckle over jealousy and the logistics of pack mentality. Harry didn't get it.
"Wonderful, although I did miss Draco. He didn't seem to make his way over to Parkinson Manor at all this summer," Pansy answered, a polite smile still on her lips.
"You don't need to talk about me as though I'm not right here, listening," Draco pointed out. "I had more to do with my summer than visit and attend your ridiculous parties this year, Pansy."
Harry considered the matter and realized that yes, the summer before this one there had been a few days wherein Draco hadn't been anywhere to be found. He hadn't realized that he'd been away at the Parkinson Manor during those gaps in Draco's availability. He supposed it made sense, considering that they were technically engaged. And to think, he'd been assuming that those few days had been times when his father had gotten hold of him...
~You know what they say about making assumptions,~ Tom murmured weakly in his mind.
Harry frowned, worried. ~You should rest,~ he sent back. Tom was very fragile at this point, and Harry was almost positive that he wouldn't last through Christmas, much less the rest of the school year. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't... He forced it away. He couldn't even think about it right now.
"What could you have had to do that's even close to being more important than spending time with me, Draco?" Pansy asked, and there was a shrill note to her voice that made Harry cringe. Why did girls think it was necessary to sound like a bird of prey?
"Cleaning my shoes," Draco shot back. "Playing with Harry's monster of a cat. Getting to know my recently cleared of all charges cousin. Re-alphabetizing my books. Learning to-"
"I get the point," Pansy interrupted with a snarl. "You don't need to keep going."
"No, but now I'm curious. What were you learning to do over the summer, Draco?" Ron asked. "Personally, I hope it was learning to play chess better. I could use more of a challenge."
Draco's lips lifted into a little smile. "If I were any better, Ron, you wouldn't ever win another game again," he shot back.
Then they had to stop talking as the Sorting Hat was beginning its song once more. They gave the Sorting the attention it deserved, the headmaster's announcements the attention that they deserved, and then the food the attention that it deserved, and then it was time to head to bed for the night. Classes would begin early tomorrow, and Harry for one was quite excited. Sirius had assured him that, so long as Remus hadn't changed all that much academically speaking, his teaching would be fantastic.
Although, as he left the Great Hall, he couldn't shake the feeling that somebody was watching him, and it was really unnerving. He didn't like the way that the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. It was starting to put a damper on his enthusiasm.
ooOOooOOoo
Remus waited until he was alone in his rooms to open the letter. And even then, it waited on his bed until he enjoyed the first hot bath he'd had in months. Showers, yes, fast and cold, but never hot water. Werewolves in the colonies didn't rate anything resembling hot water, especially when they didn't have coin to pay for it.
He savored his bath and dried off, trying not to wince at how very thin he was. Merlin, he looked like a wreck, and he deliberately avoided the mirror in his rooms as much as he could. He didn't want to see himself. He couldn't stand the thought of seeing what he'd become. It was bad enough that he was a coward, that he was a monster, but to see himself wasting away... no.
He pulled on his rather threadbare night clothes and crawled under the covers into bed. It was so warm; Remus couldn't help but let out a pleased sigh. It was wonderful. He hadn't felt so warm in such a long time. And then, once the warmth had settled into his bones and eased some of the aching, he dared to reach for the letter from Sirius.
The first thing he noticed before he even opened it was that it was a little heavy to be only parchment. If he'd pranked it in some way, in some form of revenge, Remus figured that he deserved it, so he opened the letter anyway. What fell out was not a prank of any form, but instead a small bar of Honeyduke's Finest.
Remus let out a choked sob and covered his mouth with his hand, the letter falling from his other hand as he reached out to pick up the chocolate with shaking hands. It wasn't... it was... how pathetic was he, that the first nice thing to happen to him in years happened to be having a bar of chocolate sent from his ex-convict of a best friend? Remus didn't deserve this. He didn't. He was a coward. He'd run when he could have fought harder for Sirius. He deserved none of this.
With shaking hands, he lifted the letter once more. Maybe Sirius hated him. Maybe the chocolate was a friendly goodbye, or maybe it was poisoned. The options were limitless. Surely Sirius couldn't have forgiven him for not fighting for him, for not believing in him?
Dearest Moony,
You haven't yet written to me, so I guess that I'm going to have to take the initiative here. How are you, old friend? I can't imagine things have been easy for you these last thirteen years. You must be in pretty bad shape. I hope you haven't been staying in one of those werewolf colonies they have in the rest of Europe. You always hated even the idea of them.
I want to see you, very much Moony. I have so much to talk to you about, so much that I can't tell you through a letter, so much that I don't know if I can tell you. So you'll have to talk to Harry, okay? Let him decide what I can and can't tell you, and that's all I can say about that.
I wonder if there's any Mrs. Moony in your life now? I know, I know, it's been thirteen years. If there isn't, I should be very cross with you. But at the same time, I find myself selfishly hoping that there isn't a Mrs. Moony yet, and that maybe you and I can resume where we left off once upon a time. I probably shouldn't have just blurted that out like that, but I'm not going to lie to you Moony. I love you, I never stopped loving you, and I want us to be together once more. I should probably stop writing now, because otherwise this letter's going to devolve into me reminding you of how awesome I am, and neither of us really wants me to start with that. There isn't enough parchment in the world for me to get started with that.
I don't expect you to write back right away, but when you do, do me a favor and send the letter through Harry? At least, I hope that you're planning to write back. Like I said, I really want to see you Moony. We need to talk, but we can't do that while you're teaching. So maybe over Christmas, or over the summer, we can meet in person.
All my love,
Sirius.
Remus covered his mouth with his hand once more and set the letter on his nightstand. The chocolate sitting in his lap in its lovely gold wrapper seemed to torment him. What would Sirius think when he found out what the Headmaster wanted him to do?
He cried himself to sleep that night.
ooOOooOOoo
It was a week later and Harry was now certain that he was being watched, particularly at meal times. It was the most frustrating thing ever, because he couldn't figure out who exactly was watching him. He thought maybe the source was Gryffindor table, although he really couldn't be sure. He never did manage to catch anyone looking at him. And Tom wasn't talking at all these days, which meant that he was no help at all. Draco and Ron tried to look surreptitiously, but they were just as unlucky as Harry when it came to figuring out who had been watching him.
"Are you done with your breakfast, Harry?" came a saccharine voice from his elbow.
Harry froze. "Ron, haven't we had this discussion with your sister?" he asked irritably. He'd thought that Draco had managed to frighten her off for good after the incident on the train. She'd certainly seemed mortified enough, but apparently he'd thought too soon because here she was again, just as annoying as ever. And it wasn't Ron's fault, he knew, but he was just so irritated that the obnoxious little chit couldn't take a hint...
Sure enough, he heard the delicate sound of her foot hitting the floor in a petulant stomp in a ham-fisted attempt to draw his attention. "You know, I'm right here. You don't have to ignore me," she simpered. "I know that I was a little young last year, but I'm older now, Harry, and I could learn so much from you if you'd just like to take the time to teach me about riding broomsticks," she breathed.
Harry cringed. "Really? That's what you've got? You want me to teach you to ride a broomstick?" Harry rolled his eyes and was quite glad that he'd already finished his food before she'd come over, as the very image that her words evoked made him a little bit nauseous. And that it was almost time for his very first defense class with Professor Lupin, so he could get the hell out of here before he said something he regretted. Well, that and he'd heard good things about the new Professor from the older students who had already been through his class.
"Of course, Harry, that's what I've been trying to get you to do all along," she simpered at him.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Does she even realize what she sounds like when she's asking you to teach her to ride a broomstick?" he asked, and Harry bit down a snicker. Apparently he didn't need to worry about saying something he might regret; Draco was willing to do it for him. "Or is she too stupid to get the euphemism?"
"I should be offended. That's my little sister you're talking about," Ron said idly. But then he shook his head and rolled his eyes as well. "But then, she's been warned several times now. And I'm really not offended. If she's going to go around panting like a bitch in heat after boys that clearly have no interest in her, than she's going to get what she deserves."
Harry watched as Ginny drew back with a startled gasp, as though she'd been slapped. "Ron!" she shrieked, her cheeks turning red enough to match her hair.
"That's a very unflattering look on you. You might want to control that blushing response if you're going to go around asking guys to teach you to ride their broomstick," Harry offered, and then he stood. "But in case you've somehow missed it again, that guy isn't going to be me. We have class, guys, let's go."
He made sure not to look behind him as he left. He was so very done with that self-important little chit. If she wasn't careful, she'd be the next person to be fed to the basilisk. Whether Voldemort wanted him to be killing anybody this year or not.
~Harry,~ Tom began with a weary sigh, then fell silent. The chastisement, mild though it was, was more than enough for Harry to put aside his childish thoughts of revenge.
ooOOooOOoo
Ginny curled in on herself, tears running down her cheeks. Thank Merlin the Great Hall had been nearly empty for that conversation. She'd never been so humiliated in her life! And by her own brother, too! Why couldn't Ron just understand that she was the only person who would ever love Harry the way he deserved to be loved? Ron should understand how great a person she was, how good a match for Harry she would be! Instead, he was treating her like she wasn't worthy to be scraped off his shoe if she'd landed there. It was awful, and humiliating! But she couldn't give up. She just couldn't. She loved Harry, and she knew that he would feel the same if he were just given enough time.
But until then, it didn't mean that it didn't hurt when her beloved shot her down like that. She tried to stop sniffling, to stop crying, but she just couldn't. Maybe she should go see Madame Pomfrey instead of going to classes today? She had Potions and she wasn't sure she could withstand another crushing humiliation like the one she'd just suffered.
"Miss Weasley, please, don't cry," came a grandfatherly voice, and a handkerchief was pressed into her hands. "There, there, why don't you have a seat and we can talk about this?"
She blew her nose into the handkerchief and settled at the table at the gentle urging of the headmaster. "I'm sorry, sir, I just... I just love him so much, and Ron just can't see how good I would be for Harry! And that awful Malfoy boy... Ron was never so cruel before he started to hang around with him!"
"As it happens, I've noticed that myself," Dumbledore said to her, and was it just her or were his eyes twinkling a bit when she looked up at him? It didn't matter, she supposed, it must have been a trick of the light.
"I'm glad it isn't just me," she whispered, her voice small and lost. The tears had finally stopped now that she had an ear that was sympathetic to her troubles. "But I don't know what I can do to make Harry see me!" she added, and fought down the urge to wail like a little girl once more.
"It's been my opinion, and my experience," the headmaster said slowly, "that if you remove the source of the negativity, those who are genuinely good will come around on their own."
"Do you think so?" Ginny asked, desperate to seize on any hope that she could. If the Headmaster was right, if she could save both her brother and Harry by just getting them away from the Malfoy pig... but wait... "But it doesn't matter. I don't have any way to separate them from the Malfoy boy," she said sadly. They wouldn't even talk to her; why would they ever talk to her away from one third of their trio? And even if they would, at this point, why would they listen to anything she had to say? It was clear to her that they'd already made their decisions, and there was nothing she could do about that.
"I know so," the Headmaster offered, and chucked her gently on the chin. "Cheer up, Miss Weasley. I wouldn't have said anything if I hadn't had a plan in mind." His face turned into a small frown and he said, "It might hurt you just a bit, though," in a slightly worried tone.
Ginny smiled. "I can handle anything if it's going to help Ron and Harry," she said confidently.
"I'm glad to hear that, Miss Weasley." The headmaster offered her a fond smile, then, and said, "Now, why don't you run off to class? I'm sure you're not too late just yet. You can come see me in my office after dinner. We'll discuss this in more detail then. The password, my dear, is Lemon Sherbert."
Ginny nodded and hopped off of her seat, all earlier sorrow long since forgotten. The headmaster had a plan. What could possibly go wrong with that?
ooOOooOOoo
After Professor Lupin's first class with the Slytherin third years was over, Harry stayed behind. The class had been every bit as fantastic as the other students had promised, and for the first time ever Harry had truly enjoyed himself in Defense Against Dark Arts. Lupin was a hell of a teacher. But the Professor looked tired and drawn, and Harry didn't let himself forget that they were, in fact, only a night out from the full moon. Of course the werewolf wouldn't be feeling well.
"Can I help you, Mr. Potter?" the Professor asked tiredly. He was leaning against his desk, his face pale and drawn.
"I was wondering if you had anything for me to deliver to Sirius," Harry answered. "And if I may, sir, you look awful. You should probably get some rest after this. Can I help you clean up?" he added, almost as an afterthought. He was almost glad that Tom was being very quiet these days because there was no doubt in his mind that the spirit would have had a very irritable comment about helping pathetic mutts with anything at all.
"As it happens, I do have a letter for Sirius. I just didn't want to bother you while you were busy with your other classes," the Professor said quietly. "And I would very much love some help cleaning up, if you have the time. And not that it's any student's concern, but I'll probably be going to bed directly after this." This last was delivered with a stern glance in Harry's direction, though it was marred by a twinkle in the man's amber eyes.
Harry's lips quirked in a smile. Oh yeah, he could absolutely see what his godfather saw in this shabbily dressed werewolf. He started to straighten out the desks in the room and he offered, "I promised Sirius that I'd look after you," and had the joy of seeing the man startle a bit at the news.
"You... you did?" Lupin asked, his voice just a little bit choked off. "He... he asked you to look after me?"
Well, no, Sirius hadn't. But Harry was relatively sure that if his godfather could see the state of his ex-lover... did it really count as an ex-lover when they'd been separated by a prison stay? Harry wasn't sure. Anyway, if Sirius could see the state of Remus, Harry was almost positive that he'd be asked to keep an eye on him. So it wasn't really a lie, it was more of an obfuscation. "He totally did," he promised.
~Did you really just use the word totally when talking to another living being?~ Tom asked, voice low and weak.
~I'm glad to see that you've stirred yourself enough to tease me in this my hour of entirely teenager-like behavior,~ Harry shot back, a smile coming to his lips before he could fight it down. ~It's good to hear from you,~ he added, just in case Tom thought that maybe he wanted him to go away. Harry didn't want that. Tom finally sounded like he had some life to him for the first time in weeks. He'd missed the spirit so much now that he wasn't really able to talk all that much, he couldn't even... he didn't have words for it. He wanted Tom to stay and talk to him so badly, but somehow he knew that wasn't going to happen. It shouldn't happen, either, not if the expense of energy pained him, and definitely not if it was making him go faster.
Sure enough... ~I can't talk,~ Tom finally whispered, and fell ominously silent once more. Harry felt a wave of depression, of grief, of anxiety, and realized that it came from Tom. He ached for his friend, he did, but he knew there was nothing he could do. Better minds than his had looked at the problem, after all, and had come up empty.
"I can't imagine why he's forgiven me," the Professor was whispering, voice lost and a little wobbly. "I don't deserve... I don't deserve for him to even look at me, to speak to me, much less to try and look after me any longer. Not after what I did to him."
Harry sighed. "Look, Professor, can I be really blunt here?" he asked, once the desks had been straightened and the room put entirely to rights once more. He took the letter that the Professor was holding in nerveless fingers and waited for a response.
"Please, Harry, if you've something to say," the werewolf said with a weary nod.
"You're a werewolf, sir," Harry said flatly. He didn't have to be watching all that closely to see the man flinch at the words just thrown out so carelessly. "You are, sir, and Sirius loves you anyway. But let's be honest here. The rest of the wizarding world doesn't. So what were you going to do, huh? Force the issue and be outed as a werewolf? Maybe be sent to Azkaban yourself or even get yourself beheaded? How do you think Sirius would feel now, knowing that you'd gotten yourself killed trying to get him out of prison?"
"He'd be devastated," Remus whispered, and nodded. "I see your point, Harry, though I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't be so careless when discussing my... affliction."
Harry shrugged. "No problem, Professor," he said easily. That was a promise he had no trouble with keeping. He'd certainly kept worse secrets already in his young life. "Now, you should be getting to rest, and I should be sending this letter of to Sirius with Ron's lovely, reliable owl. Should I stop by the kitchens and have the elves send you something for dinner?" he added courteously.
"Thank you, but no. I doubt I'd be able to keep anything down," Remus said, and offered Harry a smile before shuffling slowly from the room.
Harry ached for the pain so clearly present in the man's every move. It couldn't be an easy thing, turning into a ravening beast every time the moon was full. He looked like he was in a lot of pain, and he really was way too thin. Harry decided that he was going to send a letter off with the Professor's own. Maybe if Sirius knew what sort of shape his lover was in, he'd do something to rectify it. Though what form that something would take, Harry honestly couldn't really imagine.
ooOOooOOoo
"So, how goes your Potions work this year, Ron?" came Blaise's unexpected voice. The other hadn't spoken much to Ron since the start of the school year two weeks ago, and Ron was genuinely surprised that he'd started to do so again. He'd thought that he'd done something to offend the other last year, and he wouldn't have been surprised considering that he'd fallen asleep with his head on Blaise's lap.
"It's going about the same as it always does," Ron said honestly. "I feel like I'm an idiot fifty times over, and then Harry or Draco will settle down next to me and suddenly the whole thing will make sense. And then I'll feel like an idiot again. But it's working, and my grades are about where they always are."
Blaise nodded solemnly. "You know," the young man said in a thoughtful tone, "you can always come to me for help if either Draco or Harry are not available. And let's be honest. With the events of this summer, I would imagine that the times that they are not available will be increasing greatly."
Ron's eyes narrowed and his back stiffened. "If I had any idea what you were talking about, which I don't, I would tell you that you might be right, and that if that were indeed the case I would be thrilled to accept your assistance with my potions work on the very rare occasions that either Harry or Draco are unavailable."
Blaise made a show of looking around the common room, then. "You know, I could be mistaken, but I don't see either of them here right at this very moment. Were you needing any help with tonight's homework?" he asked, his lips quirking into a smile.
Ron considered the matter. If he weren't missing his guess, and he strongly doubted that he was, he thought that maybe the other simply wanted to spend time with him. Of course, that made sense. Zabini was from a notoriously neutral family, refusing to take either side in the war. That meant he wouldn't have many friends in such a Dark-aligned house as Slytherin, and his refusal to stand with the Light would mean that he would have the same problem in any other house. He didn't know why it hadn't occurred to him by now that Blaise was likely lonely, hence the reason he'd helped Ron deal with his issues the year before. He wanted a friend.
Well, if there was one good thing that Ron had taken away from his parents, it was the knowledge that one could never have such a thing as too many friends. "As it happens, while I don't need help with potions, I do seem to find myself in need of a chess partner. Would you be interested?" he offered.
Zabini's lips curled into a smile. "It would be my honor to be the next Slytherin to fall on my blade before the glory of your chess skills."
Ron smiled, he couldn't help it. "Let me just go and get my chess set," he said cheerfully.
ooOOooOOoo
Draco frowned and cast an irritated, "Tempus!" The numbers on the little clock that appeared read only four o'clock in the morning. This had been going on for a little over six hours now.
"If somebody doesn't shut Potter up, I'm going to murder him in his sleep," Nott groaned, pulling his cover over his head.
"Look, if you've got a problem with it, why don't you do what Ron and I asked you to do three hours ago and go and get Professor Snape?" Draco bit out. His friend had been having a nightmare for the past six hours, and he'd been unable to wake him. Unable to get him to respond to anything at all, as it happened. There was no way that this was anything resembling a normal nightmare.
"Look, I just want to get some sleep. If I need to smother Potter to do it, I'm game for that. But I'm not going to go all the way out of this room to go and get the Professor because Potter's having some freaky ass nightmare. That isn't my job," Nott snarled.
"Then shut the hell up about it," Ron snarled back. He was on Harry's bed with him, his friend's head resting in his lap. "Draco, maybe you or I should go," he added. He'd been saying that for the past three hours. But it was painfully clear that he didn't want to leave his friend in such a vulnerable state without at least two of them to defend him.
Draco couldn't blame him, not really. That was why he hadn't gone off to fetch the Professor. He couldn't imagine leaving Harry here with only Ron to protect him. Not that he didn't trust Ron, because of course he did, but he knew that the other couldn't watch both his back and his front at the same time. And Nott had started firing curses at Harry only two hours into this mess. At least, he had until Draco had hexed him rather painfully. Draco had no doubt that if he left the dorm room would quickly turn into some sort of war.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Zabini snarled suddenly, and stalked over to Nott's bed. Draco saw him draw his wand, saw him move it in a complicated pattern while reciting a set of words that Draco couldn't have repeated had his life depended on it, and watched as Nott shot him a grateful smile and then closed his eyes, an expression of peace settling across his face. "Silencing spell you bloody idiots. Now if you'll excuse me, I, too, need some sleep for classes tomorrow."
With that, Zabini's curtains slammed closed. And then, as Ron and Draco tried to figure out just what they were going to do and which of them was going to go for the Professor, and Draco was determined that wasn't going to be him, Harry's cries tapered off and then stopped altogether.
"Are you okay?" Ron asked Harry urgently. Draco rolled his eyes. They didn't even know if Harry was still asleep or if the nightmare had stopped because Harry had woken up on his own. Because they sure as hell hadn't been able to wake him when they'd tried, and they'd tried everything short of dumping water on his head.
Harry's eyes fluttered open, then, and he stared at Draco through broken green eyes. His lips began to move, but no sound came out.
"Harry?" Draco asked eagerly, and damned himself and his concern for the other by settling on Harry's bed next to him. He'd been doing so well pretending to be distant, too.
"I can feel all of Tom's emotions," Harry whispered after several heart-stopping moments of anxiety. "I can feel everything. His fear, his sorrow, his rage, his impotence. I can feel it all, and I can barely hear him. Oh, Merlin, what am I going to do?" he asked, and then he started to cry.
Draco closed his eyes. They were definitely out of their element there. Ron looked like he was about to bolt he was so upset, and Draco didn't know what to do for his friend. "Go and get Professor Snape?" he offered to Ron, and Ron nodded hastily this time and took him up on the escape route.
Draco took his place with Harry, and curled his arms around his shaking friend. He hoped that the Professor could figure this out, and he hoped that Harry was prepared for the eventuality that this might just be it. They might be losing Tom.
A/N: And, another chapter! It's even sort of on time! Hurray! Let me know how you liked it!
