Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.

Chapter 85 is written! There's been a brief burst of productivity that may even continue over the next couple of days, working and degree allowing.

I am curious as to how powerful you now consider Harry to be, relative to others. I consider duels as too complex scenarios to be determined by power alone, so I've skirted around explicit power comparisons and kept it vague, but I'm considering throwing in a handful of new spells. I do not, however, want anyone to seem unreasonably powerful, so if it's not necessary, I won't.

Chapter 85

The drawing in the textbook was almost comical. If the colours had been reversed it might have been a child under a tattered sheet, but Harry had seen what lay under the cape of a Dementor. Its ruin of a face, the gaping, unnatural maw, and rotting body were a far cry from the wide-eyed, innocent eyes of a child on Halloween. If anything, he was glad of the cloaks that concealed them, comical or not.

A glance around the class showed that most of the other students were staring at the pages with a mixture of boredom, and horror. Most of those who looked bored were students Harry recognised from Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, the ones who had not attended Neville's DA. Interestingly Malfoy seemed rather unconcerned by the idea of lethifolds, and the prospect of having most of his soul sucked out through his mouth. Something Harry thought odd, given it was a fate both his parents may well be facing should Voldemort fall.

Unable to resist his curiosity Harry surreptitiously pointed the tip of his wand at the back of Malfoy's head.

'Legilimens,' he murmured.

He caught the briefest sense of resignation, then Malfoy's thoughts abruptly cleared, and Harry, realising the blonde Slytherin must have learnt some occlumency from somewhere, swiftly broke the connection between them before he was caught.

Instead of looking around for the perpetrator Malfoy stared furiously over the top of his book at Snape, gripping the pages so hard his knuckles turned white. The professor spared him an unreadable look for a moment, but swiftly turned away in apparent disinterest.

Interesting, Harry mused.

Five years of favouritism seemed to have finally come to an end.

'I will assume, since you have been given ample time, that you have read the chapter on lethifolds, specifically Dementors,' Snape drawled softly. 'So I if I see any books still open I will be… displeased.'

There was a distinct snapping noise as almost every book in the classroom shut immediately.

'Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger, and Mr Potter,' Snape continued smoothly, 'do you three somehow think yourselves above my instruction?'

Hermione shut her book with a quiet, irritated sniff, and Malfoy's shut with a sullen thump, falling off the table onto the floor. Snape's lip curled slightly, but he made no comment.

Harry shot him a beatific smile, and left his open on the desk for a few moments longer, then, as Snape turned away, a muscle twitching in his jaw, he quietly closed the textbook. The sallow-faced spy should be more than aware that Harry was not to be trifled with. Ignoring him in class, and treating him like all the rest was understandable, and acceptable, but singling him out was unwise.

'Did Snape just pass up another opportunity to take points away from you?' Neville whispered.

'Snape's other occupation has made him quite aware of what I am capable of,' Harry reminded his friend pointedly. 'And I suspect Dumbledore may have instructed him to curb his enthusiasm towards my detention tally.'

'He knows?'

'He is a part of the Order of the Phoenix, a spy for Dumbledore amongst Voldemort's ranks.'

'That's brave of him,' Neville murmured.

'It's only bravery if you are risking something,' Harry disagreed. 'Snape risks only others.'

'Still,' Neville frowned. 'To face and lie to Voldemort every time, knowing that each time he is summoned might be his last.'

'He does not lie to Voldemort,' Harry revealed. 'Snape is more a servant of two masters than a spy. He does whatever he is ordered by either, and does his best to destroy Voldemort for his own reasons rather than the betterment of Britain.' He fell silent as Snape swept past the back of the class to destroy the small, paper Dementor that Pansy Parkinson had charmed to spew ink over Hermione's notes.

'That sounds much less brave,' Neville admitted.

'Bravery is the prerogative of the blind,' Snape said with surprising venom from a point about two feet over Neville's head. 'Being brave does not mean that you will win, Mr Longbottom. Of all the people in this class you should know that best.'

Neville's flashed into fists on the top of the desk, and Harry hurriedly put a hand on his shoulder to stop him doing something stupid.

'Granger,' Snape drawled, apathetic to the distress he'd caused Neville. 'You're likely to know the answers.' He sneered slightly. 'No doubt you've already devoured this textbook. How would you repel a Dementor?'

'The Patronus Charm,' Hermione replied, unfazed by Snape's remark. It was likely true, after all.

'I said how would you repel it, Granger,' Snape said curtly. 'Are you capable of casting the charm?'

'Yes,' Hermione beamed proudly. 'Harry taught some of us how to do it.'

'Did he now,' Snape murmured, fixing Harry with an irritated stare.

Ah, Harry realised. I've ruined your lesson plan, haven't I.

'Well then,' Snape decided, sweeping back to the front of the class. 'Perhaps we shall test Mr Potter's teaching prowess. Let's go around the class and see who can produce anything of a true patronus. Mr Malfoy,' Snape's gaze glittered hard, 'perhaps you would be so kind as to go first.'

'Potter managed it years ago,' Malfoy sneered, 'it can't be hard.'

He pushed himself out of his chair, standing tall and proud in front of the class while Pansy stared up at him adoringly.

'Expecto Patronum,' he said, his voice and face suddenly soft.

There was a rush of silver mist from his wand, swirling into a bright hippogriff that snorted, and champed haughtily at the ground. Harry raised an eyebrow and smirked at the form Malfoy's patronus took. He was rather surprised he could produce one.

'Very good, Mr Malfoy,' Snape congratulated him smoothly. 'What memory did you use?'

'That's none of your business, ' Malfoy said quietly, sitting down again. 'I said it wasn't hard,' he added, with feigned triumph.

'Continue down the rows,' Snape instructed. 'For those of you like Mr Malfoy, who has been trying since third year, I expect to see a similar result.'

Malfoy scowled furiously, but wasn't brave enough to risk a response.

A succession of small bursts of silver mist made their way across the desks towards the back where Neville and Harry sat, interspersed with the occasional creature from those he had taught in the Room of Requirement. A lean, lithe mountain lion, growled softly around Ron's waist before fading from the room, much to Hermione's obvious pride, and Harry was amused to note that almost all of his temporary students were capable of producing either a corporeal patronus, or something close to one.

'Miss Granger,' Snape prompted, when Hermione seemed not to notice it was her turn, 'since you were so confident.'

Hermione looked anything but confident now that everyone was watching which struck Harry as unsual, since he had seen the otter she had previously produced, and she rarely had an qualms about demonstrating something before the class.

'Expecto patronum,' she muttered eventually, but it was not an otter that burst from her wand.

A bright, four-winged moth hovered above her head, rubbing its legs against its head, fluttering slowly.

The class' eyes moved on to the next in line, but Harry's did not. He, unlike them, knew what the moth symbolised, and could only wonder why her patronus had so changed. He remembered that Salazar had once had a moth patronus, while he had searched so desperately for the Resurrection Stone, but before he had lost hope.

Interesting.

Suddenly Neville's scorpion was clicking beside him on the desk, and, glancing at Snape for the first time, he realised the real reason the professor had asked for this demonstration. Most of the students were simply unaware of the glimpse they were giving him of themselves, but to Snape, and to Harry, Neville's scorpion plainly demonstrated his temper, his belief in revenge, and his loyalty.

'Ah,' Snape drawled softly, 'now for the main event, Mr Potter?'

'I could hardly have taught them if I could not produce one myself, sir,' Harry dismissed. 'Everyone has already seen mine back in third year.'

'Then you won't mind demonstrating once more,' Snape pressed, black eyes gleaming at Harry's unexpected reluctance.

'You're the professor, sir,' Harry smiled, 'surely you should be the one demonstrating?'

The class held its breath.

'Expecto patronum,' Snape spat, goaded, and a brilliant, silver doe leapt from his wand to spring around the room.

It's significance was not lost on Harry.

How dare he?

The ice had never seemed so cold. He had thought Snape had deluded himself. Deep down he had not truly believed it possible that Snape had truly cared so deeply for his mother, but the evidence was still standing in the classroom, soft-eyed, silver, and silent.

His love for Lily Evans was every bit as strong as Harry's was for Fleur. His patronus was just as affected, taking a form that Harry knew without any doubt was representative of his mother.

And he betrayed her regardless.

The ice coiled and cracked within. Snape had destroyed something so pure, something so precious that it ought to be blasphemy. Harry could think of nothing more wrong than violating what he shared with Fleur.

'Expecto patronum,' he hissed, making no attempt to hide the fury in his tone. Hermione stared at him in disbelief, and Snape flinched like he'd been struck.

The towering anzu dispersed Neville's scorpion, placing one cruelly taloned foot straight through the insect and staring regally down at the other students. It screeched softly at the fading doe, spreading its wings in a flash of silver light that shattered every other surviving patronus in the room. Snape's doe burst apart, collapsing like a punctured cloud, and Hermione's moth exploded softly, scattering the silver mist in a small wave to the edges of the room where it dispersed softly.

'Anzu,' Hermione murmured in the silence that followed. 'They're an extinct eagle of Mesopotamia associated with fire, enthralment and destruction.'

'Thank you, Miss Granger,' Snape interrupted silkily. 'You do not have to recite the dictionary definition of everything you come across.'

The damage is already done, Harry decided angrily. As if they would ever have understood the truth of the form of my patronus.

Hermione barely noticed Snape's rebuke she was so busy still staring at the anzu, which had not taken its eyes off her since she had started speaking.

Harry banished it, and the anzu vanished with a soft, ominous screech.

'I think that will be all for today,' Snape said curtly. 'Mr Potter, it appears, has already taught this class. If you would be so kind as to stay behind, Mr Potter, so I can discover if there are any of my other classes that I no longer needed to teach.'

The others filed out of the class, most giving Harry a wide berth, especially before he returned his wand to his wrist holster.

'Have fun,' Neville murmured, before leaving Harry to return to the common room. It was their last lesson of the day, and he was no doubt quite looking forward to slumping in front of the fire in the common room and watching Katie cause trouble among the first and second years.

'You dislike the form of my patronus,' Snape observed coolly. If Harry was not mistaken the wizard seemed almost hurt.

'I do,' he agreed coldly. 'It shows the depths of your betrayal.'

Snape flinched again, the horrible, hollow look returning. 'Then you hate it almost as much as I both love and loathe it.'

'I trust you asked me to stay behind for something more than discussing your patronus?' Harry asked.

'I wanted to know if the rumours I've heard about you, and Beauxbatons' former Triwizard Champion are true, but there seems little point in asking now.'

'There would have been little point in asking before,' Harry commented, taking a subtle, deep breath to calm himself. Snape seemed to approve of that, because the corner of his mouth crooked, and he ushered Harry into his office.

'How is your attempt to sway Professor Slughorn going?' Snape asked curiously.

'He intends to assess my progress over the next few weeks I suspect, I have until about Christmas to convince him.' Harry was fairly confident he could persuade Slughorn by then. A scatter of gifts between the two of them, a handful of reminders of his mother, and of Riddle, and Slughorn would be happily supporting him for one reason or another. All he needed was to learn enough from Snape to sustain his progress.

And I have learnt quite a bit already, Harry mused.

He was likely capable of improving or tweaking the majority of the potions that they would be asked to brew, though his theory might fall down if he was asked to provide too much detail.

'I thought I might offer some advice in some aspects that most overlook,' Snape said. 'You have a silver-plated knife do you not?'

'Yes.'

'Yet your cauldron is only pewter.'

'Silver lined cauldrons are going to be expensive,' Harry remarked. Snape gave him flat stare that quite clearly belied his disbelief that Harry was going to buy one. 'I shall have to use my spare knife to line the inside,' he smirked.

'You'd be surprised at the difference something like that will make,' Snape nodded. 'The other thing you should do is to buy a silver spoon, and a flask of completely pure water to wash things with so that you do not contaminate your potions. Should you not have the resources to purchase one, I'm sure Professor Slughorn has plenty, and you need only ask.'

Harry made a mental note of that, wondering briefly if there were any other instruments he should get covered in a more inert metal.

Snape was watching his with the same, oddly soft gleam to his eyes.

'What?' Harry demanded, calling him on it for the first time.

'There are times when you look very much like your mother,' Snape said bluntly. 'Whenever you finally decide to use your brain you get the same glint in your eyes that she used to.'

A bright point of cold welled up over Harry's heart, and he was tempted, in that instant, to take his revenge regardless of the consequences, and make Snape finally pay for everything that he had caused to be stolen away from Harry no matter how useful he might be. The wizard seemed oblivious to the fact that such comparisons, made him, no less, were merely reminders of all the things he should have already known and seen for himself. Things Snape had taken from him with his betrayal of the woman he loved.

'What're you brewing?' He asked instead, to distract himself. The same small cauldron rested on Snape's desk, spewing thick, white mist across the desk and floor. It smelt heavily of mistletoe berries, and Salamander's blood, two things Harry recognised from his rituals.

'A potion to arrest the effects of the headmaster's most recent act of foolishness,' Snape revealed.

So that's how he has survived, Harry deduced.

In the brief moment of admiration for Snape's skill as a potion maker he realised then that the spy who served both his potential enemies, and had betrayed his mother and father to their deaths, was also the only thing between Dumbledore and a slow, creeping death.

His wand was halfway into his hand before he could stop himself.

'I should head back to the common room,' Harry decided, silently repeating all the uses that Snape might have to himself in his head.

'Have a good evening,' Snape offered smoothly, eyes glinting with amusement. Clearly he knew something that Harry didn't, or he found how close he had come to death funny.

'Thank you, sir,' Harry smiled politely.

He hurried back to the common room, keeping a weather eye out for anyone suspicious. Malfoy's sudden ability to utilise occlumency coinciding with his sneaking about was lending Hermione's paranoia some credence, enough to make Harry a little concerned about his role in Voldemort's plans.

'You're coming!' He heard Hermione almost yell, before the portrait was even fully open.

The Fat Lady winced. 'That one was much quieter last year,' she commented. 'Spent less time sneaking about the castle after hours too.'

'Don't blame me,' Harry raised his hands at her accusing stare. 'I'm not involved.'

'You're always involved,' the Fat Lady sniffed, 'Sirius Black was after you when I was so violently assaulted.'

'He was after Peter Pettigrew, actually,' Harry clarified cheerfully. 'Turned out to be a nice chap in the end.'

The Fat Lady eyed him as if he had gone mad, but swung aside so Harry could enter the common room and see the reason for the commotion within.

'I don't want to go your stupid party,' Ron was explaining wearily. 'I have no obligation to go when I could be better spending my time here studying.'

'You can't study all the time, Ron,' Hermione sighed exasperated.

'Hark,' Neville whispered, ' you are black, says the pot to the kettle.'

'What's so great about this party anyway?' Ron asked.

'Professor Slughorn is hosting a small gathering for students he thinks have the potential to go far, and I, having been invited, need a date.'

'A date,' Ron had suddenly gone very red, and Harry could hear Katie cackling from her spot beside the fire. 'Well why didn't you just say so?' He demanded. 'Ridiculous girl.'

'So you're coming?' Hermione inquired.

'Yes,' Ron sighed fondly, 'but you really need to work on how you ask guys to go with you to things. Even I was never that bad,' he grinned sheepishly.

Someone loudly coughed something that sounded a lot like Fleur Delacour, and Ron went red again, brightening further still when he caught sight of Harry who was openly grinning at the spectacle.

'Why are you laughing?' Neville asked loudly. 'You're going too, and you don't have a date either.'

'Merde,' Harry swore.

'I think I saw Romilda in the library,' Neville offered cheerfully.

'I will curse you,' Harry warned. He glanced around the room, noting the suspiciously disinterested looks of a lot of the girls. 'I suppose there is only one thing for it,' he decided loudly. 'Neville,' he grinned, 'would you accompany me to the party?'

Neville sputtered for a moment, then regained enough composure to respond. 'I don't think Hannah would approve,' he answered solemnly, 'but I will ask her.'

'Has anyone seen Neville's cactus?' Harry asked equally loudly. There was a brief outburst of sniggering, before Neville surrendered and fell silent.

'You still don't have a date,' a familiar voice pointed out.

Harry shot Neville a look that conveyed every ounce of betrayal and horror.

I thought you said she was in the library.

'Yes he does,' Katie piped up, silencing the common room completely. 'I will take pity on you, Harry,' she beamed.

'I'm sure Harry can make up his own mind.' Romilda wasn't backing down without a fight. A fair few of the boys were disappearing towards the dormitory to escape the scene before them. Neville made to sneak past, but Harry carefully cast a sticking charm on his chair before he could get up.

'You're responsible for this,' he murmured. 'You're going nowhere, and I'm going to encourage Katie to ask Luna to ask you all sorts of things now.'

Neville blanched, then grinned. 'You have to survive tonight first. If Katie doesn't get you, Fleur will.'

Something uncomfortable twisted in Harry's stomach at his friend's choice of words. They rang horribly true for reasons that had nothing to do with the party he was about to have to endure.

Something burst in brilliant red sparks against the fireplace, drawing both their eyes, then there was a slap as Katie divested Romilda of her wand, sending it skittering across the floor out of reach.

'Go to bed, Romilda,' Katie dismissed. 'Buy a uniform that fits, wash your face, and do the buttons up on your blouse for once. Harry likes his girls a little older than he is.' She turned and winked at him, and Harry plastered a smile across his face, hoping she meant Fleur.

Romilda took his smile at Katie as a sign of defeat, because she retrieved her wand, throwing a last smile at Harry as she provocatively bent down to pick it up, then hurriedly retreated upstairs when Katie growled.

'So,' Harry smirked. 'Have you asked Hannah yet, Nev? I need a date, and Katie's scared away your competition.'

Ron came back down, wearing smarter dress robes than he had managed for the Yule Ball, and looking visibly relieved to not find Romilda around.

'Take Katie,' Neville shrugged. 'She's not going to throw herself at you like Romilda, and she's not terrible company.'

'I suppose,' Harry sighed, with reluctance that was not entirely feigned. He was no longer quite as sure that Fleur was wrong, and no longer convinced that Katie was any less motivated than Romilda Vane, even if she was being subtle enough that Harry wasn't sure.

'I need to find a dress,' Katie panicked. 'I am not prepared for this.'

'Just transfigure something,' Harry suggested lazily, absently changing his robes into the same style as he had worn to the Yule Ball.

'No!' Katie looked scandalised at the very idea, and she swiftly vanished up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Harry shared a slightly exasperated glance with both Neville, and Ron.

'Will Fleur mind?' Ron asked after a moment.

'I don't think so,' Harry smiled easily, and Neville chuckled, shaking his head.

I'm dead, he realised. There won't even be a body.

Hermione descended after a moment, looking far better now she had removed the shadows from under her eyes.

'Who's Harry going with?' She asked curiously, noting his attire.

'Katie,' Neville answered, trying to escape his chair. 'Harry,' he pleaded. 'come on, let me go.' Hermione looked a little concerned but Neville's answer, but quickly schooled her expression into something unreadable.

'That's good, when did you ask her?'

'He didn't,' Neville grinned. 'Katie was protecting him from Romilda Vane.'

'Oh.' Hermione sounded about as convinced as Harry felt.

'I'm ready,' Katie announced to the room, bouncing happily down the stairs, her hair scattered messily over a dark green, close fitting dress, to take Harry's arm in hers. The dress suited her fairly well.

'You just had that lying around, did you?' Hermione asked curiously.

'Yes,' Katie beamed, 'just in case.'

'We should go,' Harry suggested, before the conversation turned up anymore convenient coincides that would make this any more uncomfortable. He had a feeling that Katie owning a dress the such a similar colour to his eyes was not an accident.

I shouldn't have let Fleur tell me, he decided regretfully. It was easier when I didn't know about her suspicion. Now everything that might be a coincidence looks like something else.

Slughorn's party was a tasteful, small gathering, in his now almost unrecognisable classroom. There were only a handful of other couples present around a table so laden with aperitifs and expensive food that it looked like it might collapse.

'Aha,' Slughorn cried, 'Hermione, and you must be Ron, come in, help yourself to an aperitif the path is delightful, and I'm sure I saw something a little healthier for those not already lost down the path to temptation.'

'Thank you,' Hermione squirmed with something that might have been delight, 'Horace.'

'Harry!' Slughorn's exclamation was loud enough to startle everyone nearby. 'You came.'

'Of course, professor,' Harry smiled.

'I had such trouble tempting your mother here to these gatherings,' Slughorn sighed. 'In the end I had to convince several quite notable people to join us just to tempt her. She never liked the aperitifs much either,' he chuckled, noticing Harry avoiding the proffered platter.

'This is Katie Bell,' Harry introduced, before Katie started pouting.

'Charmed,' Slughorn dipped his head, his neck disappearing into his chins briefly. 'You're a lucky wizard, Harry.'

'Oh we're just friends,' Katie explained, slightly embarrassed, glancing at where she was still holding Harry's arm, though she did not release him.

'Well you're welcome in any case,' Slughorn beamed, 'have something eat, or a drink, there's some lovely elven wine around her somewhere that I picked up in Italy. That's a country that knows wine, even the elven stuff seems to be better there.'

Katie, it seemed, was quite eager to try both the food and the wine, because she quickly led Harry to the opposite side of the room from the potions professor.

'It's really nice, actually,' she decided, after half a glass of the wine Slughorn recommended. 'The food too.'

'Here,' she passed Harry a glass, filling it, and refilling her own, 'stop looking so worried.' Katie patted his cheek gently with the hand that wasn't cradling a glassful of alcohol. 'There's no need to worry, Harry.' She smiled, retracting her hand slowly. 'Fleur's comfortable enough to kiss you quite passionately in front of me, so she's not going to mind me accompanying you to something like this.'

Harry couldn't help but disagree, but he knew better than to stir up trouble by voicing his opinion.

'Professor Slughorn,' Filch called through the door, clutching a squirming Malfoy by the scruff of his neck. 'I found this one lurking nearby.'

'I was coming here,' Malfoy sighed loudly, 'and since I have been… assisted here, you can et go of me now.'

'A gatecrasher,' Slughorn chuckled jovially. 'There's always one! Come in, there's drinks and food aplenty.'

Harry gave Malfoy scrutinising look as he slunk towards the food, clearly none too happy. The Slytherin was still wearing his school robes, his hair was a far cry from its normal slick appearance, and there was a noticeable absence of Pansy.

He was sneaking, Harry surmised.

Hermione, who was also watching Malfoy, seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

'Something the matter, Potter?' Malfoy sneered.

'Unpleasant company,' Harry sighed, locating Katie a few metres away monopolising something that looked awfully like the quails' eggs his aunt had been so fond of serving up to guests as a snack.

'Sometimes it just can't be helped,' Malfoy agreed almost politely. He took a step forwards around Hermione. 'But times are changing, and soon we won't have to put up with muggleborns, blood traitors, or you. My father will have his repayment for your insult.'

'Never liked Lucius,' Harry remarked absently, his lips curving into a smirk, 'bit two-faced for my taste.'

Malfoy's hand flicked towards his waist, but he seemed to think better of it after a moment, no doubt remembering the last time Harry had cast a spell at him.

'You'll get yours, Potter,' he hissed. 'The Dark Lord will strip everything you hold dear from you, and only when your hope is spent will you be allowed to die.'

'Not if I strip everything away from him first.' Harry's smile turned cold, and Malfoy took a step back, bumping into Hermione who squeaked and stepped away.

'Theo will be avenged,' Malfoy threatened.

'If he is it won't be by you,' Harry dismissed, 'you're a little fish, Draco, neither mummy, nor daddy holds a candle to me anymore. They know it, you know it, I know it, and Voldemort does too.'

'My father is worth a hundred of you,' Malfoy retorted.

'Go back to the dungeons, Malfoy,' Harry told him carelessly, 'and put essence of murtlap on your forearm if it's hurting. You have nothing to say worth listening to.'

'We'll see about that, Potter,' Malfoy spat, but he turned on his heel, brushing past Hermione and stalking out abruptly, brushing the hand he had touched Hermione with furiously on his robes.

Katie reappeared a few moments after Malfoy left, glasses in hand. 'Why the sour face?' She giggled.

'I had a brief chat with Malfoy,' Harry answered with a grin. Katie was beaming happily, all smiles, and bright, brown eyes, with wine-reddened lips, and flushed cheeks. She looked more cheerful than he had seen her in a while.

'How boring,' Katie declared. 'Every other word he says is father, or mud-blood, he's not good conversation at all.'

'Sadly I seem to have no better alternatives,' Harry sighed playfully.

Katie growled at him, then smiled again, and finished her glass of wine.

How many of those has she had? Harry wondered.

'There aren't many people to talk to,' she said quietly. 'I don't really know anyone else here except you.'

'Shall I get Professor Slughorn to introduce you? I guarantee they'll all know me already,' he added dryly.

'No,' Katie shook her head firmly, 'I'm happy here.'

Several then.

She looped her arm closely through his, and Harry took the opportunity to remove her wine glass, before anymore of it ended up in her, or went on him. He knew what she was like with glasses.

'Such a gentleman,' she giggled. 'Making sure I don't do anything silly.'

'A lost battle,' Harry chuckled.

'I do a lot of silly things,' she agreed, suddenly sad. 'But not tonight,' she decided.

'That's good,' Harry replied warily.

'You're ok, aren't you?' Katie asked. 'You're happy?'

'Well it isn't the greatest party, but I'll live,' Harry grinned.

'I meant in general,' she pouted. 'Sometimes you look… less than cheerful,' she finished diplomatically.

'I'm fine,' Harry assured her. 'You, however, Katie dearest, are drunk, already.'

'Already?' Katie protested. 'We've been here a while.'

Harry glanced at the clock, and it was later than he thought. Late enough to leave and not offend his host. 'Perhaps we should head back?' he suggested.

'I might need assistance,' Katie admitted.

'Here,' Harry slipped an arm loosely around her waist, scrunching his face up in resignation when she smiled slightly and leant into him.

He excused himself from the party, bidding Slughorn and the others a fond farewell, and escorted Katie, who was still attached to his side, back towards Gryffindor Tower.

'You never answered my question?' She asked him, while they waited for the Fat Lady to wake up long enough to open.

'I did,' Harry replied absently, 'I said I was fine.'

'That doesn't mean anything,' Katie growled softly. 'I wouldn't be fine if I saw my girlfriend out with some other wizard, I'd be angry, and I wouldn't be fine if there was a Dark Lord after me either.'

Don't be doing what I think you're doing, Katie, Harry pleaded silently.

'You can always rely on me,' she promised, stumbling over the lip of the entrance to common room. Neville, Harry, noticed, was asleep nearby, still stuck to the chair where Harry had left him.

'I know,' Harry responded, helping her gently onto the sofa next to him.

Katie slumped beside and into him, and Harry, despite his best efforts, caught a glimpse of something familiarly dark and lacy beneath the front of her dress. Fortunately Katie did not notice him noticing, else he might have really found himself in trouble.

'So how come Alicia and Angelina are so unhappy with me?' Harry inquired. Katie had been reluctant to tell him, always skirting around the subject and brushing it off, but he knew better than most that she was less careful about her actions when she'd been drinking.

'Oh,' Katie smiled sadly. 'That's my fault. They think you're messing me around, because of the article, and fourth year... and stuff.' She yawned, and settled her head onto his shoulder. 'I'm sleepy now,' she murmured. 'Don't move.'

Merde, Harry swore, waiting patiently until her breathing evened out, hoping all the while that nobody came to the common room, and Neville remained asleep.

He swept her off the sofa when he was sure he was still asleep, carrying her, with her head still on his shoulder, towards the stairs to the girl's dormitory and disillusioning both of them at the bottom of the steps. He released Neville too, since his wand was out.

'Confundo,' he muttered, and quickly scaled the staircase. The sooner Katie was in her own bed, on her side, just in case, the better. He really needed to forget about what Katie had said about Angelina and Alicia's reasons for disliking him.

And stuff, he shook his head, hoping to shake the thought loose where it might be lost. Fleur could still be wrong, he decided, halfheartedly.

It seemed unlikely now, with the way Katie was acting, and certainly with the way he had to pry her fingers loose from his robes before tucking her into her bed, but he could hope all the same. Transfiguring the dress into one of the quidditch shirts he knew Katie normally slept in, pushing enough magic in so that it would last until the morning and save the dress from being ruined, he pulled the covers over her, and crept back down the stairs.

He wasn't tired, and so he took the chair closest to the fading fire, staring into the flames and absently practicing the wand motions of the spells he needed, both for his upcoming NEWTs, and the less reputable, more dangerous ones he had mastered for duelling.

Harry was still there when Hermione and Ron returned a little later, but he ignored their curious looks, and Hermione's guarded gaze, twirling his wand thoughtfully in his fingers until they left him alone to practise once more.

AN: Please read, review, and hopefully enjoy! Thanks to everyone who does review, I enjoy seeing what you think of each chapter.

P.S. Occasionally I get a review saying Harry and Fleur aren't particularly relatable, and, while I have deliberately written their characters in a slightly stilted, unique fashion, which inevitably makes it harder to empathise with them, I'm curious why, or if, it seems easier to relate to a completely selfless character (as appears in canon, and many other stories on the site), than quite a selfish one?