Credit must be given where due - inspiration for this chapter came largely from Cywscross's amazing story C'est La Vie, and the character of Stefan was originally inspired by Orion. He was created out of my disappointment when the story was discontinued, but other than the initial few interactions such as this chapter, there will be no further resemblance.

Year Two

Chapter Eleven

\\/

They walked in silence. Dumbledore led the way, gently holding the body of Vladimir. There was no sign of Stefan anywhere, as they walked through the school. Eventually Harry realised they must be heading for Dumbledore's office, and indeed they were. The spiral staircase that rose of its own accord drew gasps from Ron and Neville, but they stifled them quickly, as though realising it wasn't appropriate for the situation.

As they entered Dumbledore's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the headmasters and headmistresses in the pictures standing up and craning their necks to get a better view. Professor Mcgonagall lit the candles on his Dumbledore's desk and stood back.

Dumbledore laid Vladimir on the polished surface and began to examine him. Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione exchanged tense looks and sank into
chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching.

The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Vladimir's fur. He was looking at him closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was trying hard not to smile.

The silence was held by a thread of tension that seemed to be running through all of them as Dumbledore examined the cat.

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Vladimir with his wand but nothing happened: He continued to look as though he had been recently stuffed.

At last Dumbledore straightened up. "He's not dead," he said softly.

"Not dead?" Professor McGonagall said sharply.

"But why's he all — all stiff and frozen?" Ron blurted, and then looked as though he wished he hadn't spoken.

"He has been Petrified," said Dumbledore "But how, I cannot say. . . ."

"I heard a voice," Harry broke in. He had wanted to talk to Remus privately, but had to make sure they weren't implicated in the attack. "That's why we were there. I was following the voice."

"A voice?" Professor Snape said, looking at Harry with a strange expression. "What kind of voice."

"It sounded like it was moving through the walls," Harry said, knowing how ridiculous it sounded. "It said it was going to kill someone."

Harry had never been more glad for his truce with Professor Snape, or he was sure the man would have sneered at his poor explanation. As it was, the potions master simply raised an eyebrow, and Harry suspected he was saving his real interrogation for later.

"If I might speak, Headmaster," said Remus from the shadows. "Harry, Ron and Hermione may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not to mention, Neville came straight to fetch me."

"But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?" Professor McGonagall interjected, fixing Harry with a severe expression.

"Er," Harry said awkwardly, not sure about how to answer without getting Hagrid in a great deal of trouble.

"We were with Hagrid," Hermione broke in. Harry, Ron and Neville gaped at her. Two spots of pink appeared high on Hermione's cheekbones, but she didn't look at the boys as she spoke. "We went to his cabin for dinner," she lied. "Hagrid invited us because he had some..um...Halloween pumpkins left, and didn't want them to go to waste."

The whole room stared at Hermione incredulously. Professor McGonagall looked as though she would very much like to say something, but Professor Dumbledore got there first.

"Well that settles it," Dumbledore said cheerfully. Harry stared at the headmaster. He could have sworn the headmaster winked at him, and wondered how much Dumbledore knew about Norbert's illegal presence.

"But what about Vladimir?" Hermione asked, looking at the sad bundle of black fur.

"We will be able to cure him," Professor Snape said, nodding at Hermione. "I believe it was Mr Potter here that arranged for the delivery of some full-sized Mandrakes a few weeks ago?"

"Yes, we're studying them for a herbology project," Neville confirmed, gesturing to himself and Ron.

"Excellent. Do you have any idea when they might reach an appropriate maturity for use in potions?" Snape asked. Harry was surprised to see him speak so politely to Neville, and the boy seemed to have the same idea, as he shot Snape a bewildered expression.

"A week, if we accelerate their growth," Neville said, and Ron nodded.

"I'll ask Susan for some help," Ron agreed.

"Very well," Snape said, his eyes glittering. "The draught should be ready within a week."

Hermione looked relieved, and Harry knew she was thinking about Stefan, who must surely think his cat was dead by now. His heart twisted with sympathy for the lonely boy who had just lost his only friend. Sanna too would be relieved to hear Vladimir would survive. There was a pause.

"You may go," Dumbledore said to Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione. They went, as quickly as they could without actually running. When they reached the point where Hermione and Neville would part ways with them, Hermione turned to them. There was something desperate in her gaze, Harry thought.

"Please make sure Stefan is okay," Hermione said to Harry and Ron. "Please. He doesn't have anyone else."

"We'll do our best," Harry promised. A clock chimed somewhere, reminding them of the time. They parted ways quietly, without any other words.

Harry and Ron walked back to Slytherin slowly, Harry mulling over the events of the evening. When they arrived in the common room, Ginny and Daphne were sitting in the armchairs by the fire. Ginny was asleep, the fire casting shadows on her pale tired face. Daphne was alert, and sat up straight as soon as they entered the room.

"What happened?" Daphne demanded, as soon as the wall reappeared behind them.

"Petrified," Harry said heavily. "The cat was petrified. Nobody knows how."

"Petrified?" Ginny said, waking up with a start. "Vladimir is still alive?"

"Yes," Harry said heavily. "I heard some kind of voice too, but nobody else did, so we're a bit lost."

"Poor Stefan," Ginny said with feeling. Harry knew she was a great animal lover.

"I know," Harry said, and yawned heavily. "We need to go to bed," he said. "We can talk more tomorrow."

But as Harry fell asleep, he wasn't thinking of Vladimir, or Dumbledore, or even Hagrid, Norbert or Sirius. Instead, all his thoughts were occupied by the boy behind the drawn curtains, and the faint sobbing he thought he heard continue through the night.

\\/

Professor Snape informed Stefan the next day that his cat had not, in fact been killed. Vladimir resided now in a warm, comfortable corner of Hagrid's hut, looking for all the world like a stuffed cat until they could restore him.

Harry watched Stefan for the next week - during which the Mandrakes developed and matured on their accelerated growth program. The full moon fell during this time, and Harry wished he could have helped Stefan and Remus somehow. He had learned that both werewolves were kept very far away from one another during this time, as they could potentially kill each other during their transformation.

Harry was looking to make sure Stefan was alright, but looking made him discover some things he hadn't expected. Harry wasn't sure how he had missed it for so long, but now he was looking it was pretty hard to miss.

It wasn't just Draco Malfoy that was treating Stefan like a house elf. It was all of them - Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy. For some reason Harry couldn't explain, Stefan seemed content to follow the group of Slytherins around. But he wasn't part of them. There was a line between them that Malfoy had adeptly drawn, and the blonde boy seemed content to encourage the other students to act in the same manner.

And Stefan barely spoke. Occasionally Malfoy would tell him to do something, and the boy would do it, but his face was empty and blank, as though he wasn't even there. Harry couldn't see any of the ferocity of a werewolf in the teen at all, although he knew it had to be there.

Stefan had survived his family, the werewolf attack and Durmstrang already. There was no way that cold indifference was all there was to him. Harry had seen a spark in him during their one and only conversation about Vladimir.

So if Stefan was hiding, then Harry - and no doubt Hermione - would simply have to do something about it. Perhaps it was none of his business, but Harry was getting good at involving himself in things that were none of his business.

\\/

"What do you want Potter?"

Draco Malfoy stared in disbelief as Harry and Hermione crossed the hall towards him. Harry ignored Malfoy entirely, and made a beeline for Stefan Skorik. The pale boy was sitting next to Malfoy, but there was a clear area of space on either side of him. Harry had caught Malfoy telling people Stefan was bad luck after his cat had been attacked, and he was being avoided more than ever.

Harry smiled carelessly at the fuming Malfoy heir as he settled besides a frozen Stefan at the Slytherin table. "Eating Malfoy," Harry said, as Hermione sat on the other side of Stefan, and began pulling food towards her.

Dead silence descended. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed even the teachers were watching. Further down the table, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle were staring in abject disbelief. Ron, Neville, Ginny and Daphne were watching from the Gryffindor table, well out of the firing range.

Across the hall, some of the students from the other houses had fallen silent as well. Harry was well-known for provoking Malfoy, and people seemed to be settling in for a show.

"Pies are good today," Harry commented to Hermione, when the great hall remained remarkably chatter-free. There was a glint in Hermione's eye that made Harry smile. It reminded Harry of the incident with the vampire - except this time Hermione's fire was directed in a more appropriate direction.

"Go away Potter, and get rid of the mudblood," Malfoy finally managed to bite out, clenching his hands into fists.

"Why?" Harry tilted his head, feigning ignorance. "There's a free spot here. And you shouldn't call people names, you know. You might end up having another nasty little accident."

"You're not welcome here," Malfoy hissed, heedless of the audience they were attracting. The Slytherins were watching the interplay avidly.

"Can't make me leave," Harry countered mildly.

"She's a Ravenclaw. She shouldn't be here," Pansy interjected, leaning across the table with an ugly expression. Hermione laughed.

"There are no rules on other houses sitting with each other," Hermione said witheringly to Pansy.

"I despise you," Malfoy said to Harry, his voice cold.

"I feel the same way about you," Harry said, nodding placidly and cutting into his pie.

"Then what do you want?"

Harry frowned, before sliding his gaze over to the boy beside him. Stefan was staring unblinkingly at the far end of the hall. "You can't tell? Gosh, you must be even more stupid than I thought. I'm eating with Stefan, of course."

Malfoy stared at him incredulously, before a sneer twisted his mouth. "Yeah? You feeling sorry for killing his cat?"

"Vladimir is alive," Hermione said coldly to Malfoy. "As you'd know if you'd bothered to find out."

"And I feel like eating lunch with Stefan," Harry added.

Malfoy scoffed, his attention flickering over to Stefan. "Skorik. Get rid of them."

Harry sighed. He knew it had to happen sooner rather than later. A choice had to be made. Harry thought he made have made it a bit easier by sitting with Stefan, rather than inviting him to join them outright, but nonetheless it was a decision the boy had to actively make for himself.

All eyes were now glued to Stefan, whose grip on his fork was so strong it had bent the metal.

"Skorik." Malfoy's voice now held a note of warning.

"Stefan," Hermione said softly. "You don't have to stay here. You can come with us."

Stefan stiffened even further. His gaze finally glanced at Hermione, before it darted over to Harry. His face had paled slightly.

Harry stared back evenly. He wondered if Stefan would be able to hear a thought if he pushed it very close to the surface of his mind. Harry dropped his mental shields and pushed a thought towards the boy gently, hoping his sincerity would come through.

Come with us. We won't hurt you.

Stefan jolted, paling even further until he resembled snow.

"Skorik," Malfoy said furiously. "You known they're only trying to use you for one of their games, don't you?"

Stefan's gaze dropped. "Leave."

Harry's mouth tilted downwards, wondering if he should push. Hermione shot Malfoy a furious glare, looking as though she would like very much to break his nose again, and her fingers twitched.

Stefan looked up, his face icy. "Go away Potter."

Harry studied him a moment longer, before getting to his feet. Harry and Hermione picked up their plates and headed over to the Gryffindor table where the others were sitting, disregarding the whispers and stares of those around them.

Pushing any further wouldn't be good just now. Never mind. Harry and Hermione hadn't expected Stefan to jump ship immediately. Conversing with Harry when Malfoy wasn't around was one thing. Breaking away when Draco Malfoy was sitting right there was another. And Harry wasn't going to force the werewolf into anything.

"What was that about?" Daphne murmured as Harry and Hermione sat with the Gryffindors. Harry took a moment to marvel at the Slytherin Ice Queen sitting with the Gryffindors. There was no way Daphne would have come over here this time last year. As it was, she looked a little discomforted with all the eyes on them.

"Just being friendly," Harry said, tucking into his pie.

\\/

Harry though, was nothing but persistent. Hermione even more so. The thought of breaking Stefan away from Malfoy's poisonous hold seemed to have taken grip of her, and she watched for every opportunity. Harry knew from experience that Hermione's tenacity was so great that only an apocalypse - and even then it was a toss up - would be able to stop her.

So, that night at dinner, Harry and Hermione once more made their way back to the empty space along the bench, and sat down again - only for Stefan to refuse their company once more.

The two of them left, but they returned the next morning at breakfast, and then at lunch, and then again for dinner. And so it went. Harry and Hermione would sit down beside Stefan, exchange insults with Malfoy for a few minutes, and then the blond boy would order Stefan to get rid of them, as though this was some test the werewolf needed to pass. The two of them would then leave without complaint.

Meal after meal, the two doggedly returned. It became so predictable that most people stopped watching the spectacle, certain the outcome was inevitable.

But slowly, gradually, with painstaking care, Harry could tell that he and Hermione were getting through to Stefan. The boy still told them to leave every meal, but Harry could sense the frigidity thawing little by little.

It was only a matter of time.

\\/

"Doesn't it hurt them?" Daphne asked, flinching as she looked down at the Mandrakes they were carefully dismembering.

"No," Neville said, hurrying over to their bench, pulling on a pair of gloves as he went. "They've been knocked out. They won't feel a thing."

"Neville's right," Professor Sprout said from the other side of the greenhouse. She looked even more dishevelled from usual. Her face was smeared with dirt, and her witches hat was hanging askew. Neville had told Harry that accelerating the rate of growth of the Mandrakes was an exhausting, full time job. Finally they were ready to harvest, and all of them had offered to help.

Professor Snape was in the dungeons brewing the base for the restorative draught. Everyone had been surprised when the dour potions master had agreed to let Hermione watch him brew the difficult potion, and Hermione's excitement had been unparalleled.

Harry looked down at the mandrake he was cutting up. The Mandrakes had been stunned, and lay limply on the benches. It was discomfiting now much they looked like filthy little plant babies. Harry grimaced as he carefully cut off a leg, and began trimming it into neat squares. The inside of the Mandrakes was both fibrous and fleshy looking, and the task made him extremely uncomfortable.

Neville, however, was in his element as he whirled around them all, offering help and directions. Daphne and Ginny worked together, the little first year copying everything Daphne did. Susan and Ron were paired at another bench, working together on a particularly fat one.

"That's not a school knife Daphne," Neville called out. Harry looked over. It was true. Daphne was slicing up the Mandrakes with a silver stiletto dagger with a jeweled handle. The dagger was wickedly sharp, and looked dangerous.

"It's a Greengrass blade," Daphne said loftily. "All the women in our family carry one."

"What, in your pocket?" Ron asked, looking sceptically at the knife.

"No," Daphne sniffed haughtily. "Here." The blonde drew back her robes and lifted her skirt above her knee. Ron blanched. Strapped to Daphne's milky white thigh was a black leather dagger holster. The sheath was empty, the dagger being in Daphne's hand. Ron spluttered, and turned bright red. Daphne smirked, and lowered her robes.

"Only a fool doesn't carry extra protection," Daphne said coolly, turning back to her Mandrakes with supreme indifference.

"I think it's sensible," Susan Bones said, turning from her table and wiping beads of sweat from her plump forehead. "What if you lose your wand? A knife is applicable in every situation."

Ron shot Susan a betrayed look, and the Hufflepuff girl laughed. She had a very musical laugh, and had in fact been rather good company. There was just something about Hufflepuffs, Harry thought. There was no pretence to them - no guile. They said what they thought, worked hard, and were generally rather pleasant.

"You don't carry one do you?" Ron said to Susan, colouring even darker.

"No," Susan grinned. "I'd probably chop my leg off by accident."

"I want one," Ginny said hopefully, eyeing the beautiful blade.

"Over my dead body," Ron scowled.

\\/

It was when they were sitting in charms towards the end of the week that Harry heard a piece of news that interested him a great deal. Charms was, as everyone knew, the ideal place to have a quiet conversation. There were always plenty of bangs and puffs of smoke to mask the voices. Later, he supposed it was only luck that he heard it at all.

Theodore Nott had been paired by Professor Flitwick with Draco Malfoy, and they were standing in front of him. They were supposed to be learning a cushioning charm, and the desks had all been removed to give them space to practice.

"Now! Remember class, the incantation is arrestio fallio," Professor Flitwick squeaked from his perch on top of a pile of books. "

"Do you want to go first?" Ron muttered to Harry.

Harry nodded, and swapped his wands over. Hermione had started referring to them as Harry's verbal wand and his non-verbal wand, and the name had stuck.

"Go on," Harry gestured to Ron. Ron took a deep breath, and let himself fall backwards towards the stone floor. Practising for this charm took a great deal of courage on the part of the subject.

"Arrestio Fallio," Harry said, flicking his wand at Ron. It was literally as though an invisible cushion stopped Ron's fall. He bounced slightly, before gently sinking to the floor. Behind him, Daphne gave Harry a nod.

While Ron was climbing to his feet and straightening his robes, Harry caught a couple of words from the conversation in front of him. It was enough to pique his interest, and he edged forwards to hear more.

"Yes, father was very disappointed to have to cancel the Malfoy Winter Gala but of course given mother's, er, condition..."

Draco Malfoy was talking to Theodore Nott, neither of them practising the charm they were supposed to be learning.

"My father said that the Winter Gala has been moved for this year though, not cancelled?" Theodore said. "Do you know where to?"

"Well," Malfoy looked around and lowered his voice. Harry edged closer, shaking his head at Ron who had raised his wand hopefully. "It's not been confirmed yet. But the rumours are saying that it might be hosted by Minister Crouch himself. But wouldn't your father know that, as Senior Undersecretary?"

"My father has more important things to do than spend his days worrying about where the Winter Gala will be held," Theodore sniffed. "But it makes sense. Minister Crouch would no doubt want to create a good showing for his first Christmas as Minister of Magic. And I've heard that Crouch Manor is really quite large."

"How are you doing boys?" Professor Flitwick said. Harry jumped back as though he had been shot. Malfoy turned around and sneered at him.

"Fine thanks, Professor," Harry said.

"Well let's see Mr Weasley then!" Professor Flitwick said, clapping his hands together.

Ron looked extraordinarily uncomfortable. "Sorry if I let you hit the floor," he muttered to Harry.

Harry winced, and turned to face Ron, who was twirling his wand nervously.

"Three, two, one.."

Harry let himself fall backwards.

"Arrestio Fallio!" Ron cried. Harry felt suddenly as though he had smacked into something very soft, and felt himself come to a stop, before dropping gently to the floor.

"Oh bravo!" Cried Professor Flitwick, applauding. Ron looked very pleased with himself. Harry picked himself up and glanced over towards Malfoy and Theodore. But they had moved far enough away that he couldn't hear any more of their conversation.

\\/

"Daphne what's the Malfoy Winter Gala?" Harry asked as they were walking down to dinner. He already knew, but wanted to hear her confirm.

Daphne looked at Harry curiously for a moment. "Just a party the Malfoy's throw for all the upper circle of the Ministry once a year. Why?"

"Just heard Malfoy mentioning they weren't having it this year," Harry shrugged.

"Yes, I've heard Lady Malfoy is due around December," Daphne said, her lips twisting into an approximation of a smirk. "I imagine she won't be up to entertaining."

"I heard the Minister of Magic might be holding it," Harry said casually.

"That makes sense," Daphne nodded slowly. "Why? Do you want to go? The Greengrass family always have an invitation."

"Not particularly," Harry admitted. "But I might see if I can wrangle an invitation anyway. Boy-who-lived and all, I'm sure I can manage one."

Daphne laughed, and it was the laugh of the eternally privileged. The laughter of those for whom not having an invitation to the most prestigious events their country had to offer was unthinkable. Harry rolled his eyes

As they came to the double doors to the great hall, Daphne sighed. "I suppose you won't be sitting with us again today," she muttered distastefully.

"See you later," Harry grinned, ambling towards the Slytherin table where Hermione waited.

\\/

Thursday afternoon saw Harry and Hermione once more make a beeline for Stefan. Their friends, who were long used to Harry's whims, shot them long suffering looks, but bagged the end of the Gryffindor table and waited for Harry and Hermione to finish up their mealtime ritual. Daphne was already making her way over, and although a few of the Slytherins looked slightly put out by this, most of them had grown used to Daphne frequenting with Ginny and Hermione, and by extension, Harry and the others.

However there was one difference today. When Harry and Hermione reached the werewolf they were trying to befriend, they found Stefan stiff-backed and unmoving, with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him. Neither of them looked particularly happy with this arrangement, but judging by Malfoy's smirk from the other side of the table, none of them had much choice in the matter.

"What do you want Potter and mudblood?" Malfoy drawled. This new turn of events had half the great hall watching, for their midday entertainment, and Ron and Neville looked ready to come over and spring to their aid.

Harry wished he understood why Malfoy was so determined. By this point it was clearly just to get one over on Harry by not giving an inch, because Malfoy didn't even like Stefan.

Hermione looked at Harry for a moment. Harry reached over to the table and grabbed a sandwich from a platter. Then he flopped gracelessly onto the floor, and began to eat it. Hermione didn't even hesitate. She picked up her own sandwich, and sat right next to him.

"We should have brought something to sit on," Hermione said to Harry conversationally.

Crabbe and Goyle's jaws dropped. They stared gormlessly at Harry and Hermione, forgetting to eat. Harry could see Ron and Neville frowning from the Gryffindor table, and Ginny looked upset. Daphne however, still wore a smirk.

And while Stefan might have kept his composure admirably all week, even he couldn't help whipping his head around when he heard Harry and Hermione sit down on the floor. Harry tilted his head back and caught a glimpse of raw emotion on Stefan's face. He looked confused. Stunned, even. And a little shocked and frightened, as though he suddenly found himself way out of his depth.

Harry smiled inwardly, and shared a look with Hermione. Maybe it was slightly cruel of them to drag Stefan's loyalties out in the open like this, but from what Harry had seen, Draco's treatment would leave far more lasting mental, emotional and perhaps even physical scars on the boy.

"You're a disgrace to your parents memory, Potter," Malfoy snapped, pushing himself to his feet and looming over Harry and Hermione. "Sitting on the floor like a dog, after we thought the name of Potter could sink no lower."

Hermione opened her mouth furiously, but Harry put a hand on her wrist to stop her replying. He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed and then swallowed before answering. "You're just jealous Malfoy," he said calmly.

"Jealous?'' Malfoy said incredulously. "Of you?"

"Yep," Harry said happily. "Bet you'd never sit on the floor. Might do some uncomfortable things to that stick lodged up your arse."

Malfoy spluttered furiously, and Hermione snorted with laughter. But Malfoy looked as though he had finally reached the end of his patience. Harry couldn't blame him really. After all, Harry and Hermione had been coming over and harassing him and his friends at every single meal time for the last two weeks.

"Just leave Potter, take your mudblood, and don't come back," Malfoy snarled.

Malfoy picking up his eating knife and hurled it directly at Harry. There were many ways Harry could have stopped the knife. It was a blunt eating knife, and he could have probably have caught it with his hand. Or he could have used wandless magic to redirect harmlessly off to the side. Or he could have magically blocked it with the shield charm that blocked physical objects. But as it turned out, he didn't need to do any of those things.

A hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed the knife right out of the air with lightning fast reflexes, before it could go anywhere near Harry or Hermione. Harry followed the hand to its owner, and felt a smile rise unbidden to his lips.

"Skorik what are you doing?" Malfoy hissed, incensed.

Stefan had half stood, and was twirling the knife between his fingers, a thoughtful, slightly pensive expression on his face. The whole of the Slytherin table fell silent. Ron and Neville stood up, craning their necks to get a better view. None of them had ever seen Stefan do something Malfoy didn't order him to do first.

The entire great hall saw the gaunt, pale second year close his eyes and heave a great sigh.

Then Stefan let the knife fall to the table with a loud clatter. Malfoy's eyes locked on the knife, and fury rose like poison in his eyes. But Stefan wasn't watching Malfoy. He looked Harry and Hermione both in the eye, and whatever he found there seemed to reassure him. With a swift decisiveness, Stefan picked up his bag and his plate, and turned to the pair on the floor. He stepped over the bench and away from the table.

"Skorik. What are you doing?"

Stefan shifted, dark brown eyes meeting Harry's green ones. The hesitant trust Harry found in them humbled him, and he moved over so there was space for Stefan. Then the werewolf turned back to Malfoy, his gaze turning to ice.

"I'm leaving, Malfoy," Stefan said in his accented voice.

Without another word, the second year dropped his bag, and sat down on the floor beside Harry and Hermione with his plate. Stefan gave Harry a shy smile, and suddenly Harry was grinning back, flooded with joy and relief that he had managed it. Between them, he and Hermione had set out to accomplish something, to change something for the better and they had succeeded.

"Skorik!" Malfoy wasn't giving up easily.

"Detention Mr Malfoy," a voice suddenly hissed from behind them. Harry turned his head to see Professor Snape bearing down on them, fixing Malfoy with a look that made Harry exceptionally glad it wasn't directed at him. "For throwing a weapon at a fellow Slytherin during a meal."

"But-"

"No buts, Mr Malfoy. I will see you in my office at seven," Professor Snape sneered. Malfoy stood up, rage twisting his face, and stalked down the Slytherin table towards the doors. He slammed open the doors to the entrance hall, and left the room in a whirl of black robes and coiffured blonde hair.

Professor Snape looked down at Harry, Hermione and Stefan. Although the man's sour features were hard to read at the best of times, Harry thought he detected a glimmer of respect in the man's eyes as he looked at them.

"Please return to the table, Potter, Granger and Skorik," Snape drawled. "Members of the noble house of Slytherin do not eat on the floor unless is for a very good cause and absolutely necessary. Two points each from Slytherin and Ravenclaw for this transgression."

"Yes sir," Harry sighed. The three of them picked up their bags and plates and returned to the table. Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy slid as far away down the bench as they could. The rest of Slytherin was watching the interaction silently

"Five points apiece for obeying instructions promptly," Professor Snape said, a smirk playing about his mouth. Harry grinned.

As Snape turned to leave, Harry felt a thought suddenly appear in his mind - a thought that didn't belong to him. It wasn't legilimency, so his shields didn't block it. It was simply silent communication.

Your mother would have done the very same thing. She would have been proud. Professor Snape's voice echoed in Harry's mind.

\\/

Conversation was slow to start, especially when Ron and Neville came hurrying up, and sat down in the recently vacated spaces, bringing with them plates of food.

"Hi, I'm Neville," Neville said politely, offering Stefan his hand. Stefan shook it, but seemed nervous and said nothing. And then Daphne and Ginny arrived, carrying armloads of bags that had been forgotten, which Daphne dumped on the floor with a long suffering sigh.

"Move over Weasley," Daphne said to Ron, who was wincing from an accidental elbow in the ribs. "There's more of us." Ginny slid in beside Hermione, a satisfied smile on her face and a heavy bag in her hand.

Harry and Hermione stayed on either side of Stefan, and Ron and Neville ended up sitting across from them, with the other two girls squeezed in around the sides. Stefan looked a bit overwhelmed from the sudden influx of people, but Harry beamed as Ron introduced himself and the others. Before long, the normal levels of banter had resumed.

"You're going to be alright with us," Harry murmured to Stefan. "Don't worry. You're going to be just fine." Stefan looked a little dazed as he nodded at Harry, as though he wasn't really sure what had just happened.

Stefan stayed quiet throughout the meal, but Harry and Hermione spoke to him intermittently, drawing him into the conversation and teasing answers from him. The others gave him a little space, sensing that he needed it. But Stefan kept shooting Harry sidelong looks, as though he wanted to ask a question, but didn't know where to start.

"What is it?" Harry asked quietly, as dessert appeared on the table in front of them.

Stefan shot Harry a long look before speaking. "Why?" He asked softly. There was badly disguised doubt in his voice, and it made Harry's heart tighten.

Harry answerer with a question of his own, one of his favourite quotes:

"If not me, who? If not now, when?" Harry said, grinning at Stefan.

A smile spread across Stefan's face like the sun rising over the horizon. "I think I'm going to like you," the werewolf said, meeting Harry's gaze steadily.

"Oh, I think you will," Harry said happily.

\\/

Thanks for reading

Cas