Disclaimer: Hi guys. First I want to warn you that this chapter is in very rough form, more so than any other. It was simply too cruel not to move the story forward given where it ended in the previous chapter. If this chapter changes drastically in an update, don't say I didn't warn you. It is a very 'talk-y' chapter, and that is a fact that is most likely to change. Happy Thanksgiving, all you Americans. - Icarus.

Defence Against the Dark Arts

by Icarus

Harry left messages for Severus through every means he and Severus had devised. He wrote on the chalkboard in the Potions dungeon and erased it. On his return the next day, he pulled out the eraser and did the Reveal Spell. He found a response that made little sense to him. Severus had written out the lyrics to some song called 'God Save the Queen' by a 70's group, written in dark angry letters, and signed it Sid Vicious. Who was that? Sometimes their age difference really did show.

Harry Spelled a note and slipped it under the door to Severus' rooms. Harry heard a slicing sound as it went under and winced. He was glad he hadn't accidentally let a finger go under the door. It was a Guillotine Spell. The note blew back to Harry, in two cleanly cut pieces. Of course Severus' Spell was razor sharp. It would be.

He tried writing in the steam in the mirror. His hand came away covered in charcoal. He wiped the mirror, and a black smear coated it. Harry wound up cleaning the mirror for over an hour, before he finally gave up. It only got dirtier. Harry slipped out of the bathroom, anxiously hoping Filch would never guess who messed up his mirror.

Then Harry slipped a note into a book, in their usual spot in the library. The note sizzled and burned to ash the moment Harry put it in. Wha - ? Then Harry looked at the title. Severus had switched their usual book for one on Acid Concoctions, and put a Confounding Spell on top of it so Madam Pince wouldn't move it back where it belonged. Harry threw up his hands. Every move he made, Severus was one step ahead.

The next morning, Harry glumly ate his tasteless breakfast. The morning mail fluttered down to his plate, more brightly colored advertisements as usual. Harry held out his arm to Hedwig and fed her a tidbit off his plate. Then he heard Hermione gasp.

"Harry, you'd better open that - quick." What he had mistaken for another advertisement was a red envelope. A Howler.

Harry tore it open wondering who it was from. Severus would hardly announce… but he had his answer. The voice of a house elf filled the breakfast hall. Ron put his hands over his ears and ducked his head under the table, though Harry was too surprised to be quick enough. The voice was painfully shrill:

"DON'T YOU THINK YOU HAVE DONE ENOUGH? ARE YOU NOT SATISFIED WITH THE DAMAGE?! STOP HARRASSING ME! END YOUR RECKLESS AND POINTLESS PURSUIT! IMMEDIATELY!"

The letter burst into flames and the ashes dropped into Harry's breakfast. Oh well. He wasn't hungry anyway. Then there came a snigger from the Slytherin table.

"Hey, Potter. Shagged any house elves lately?" Draco smiled evilly. "You must be pretty small."

The rest of the Slytherins burst into hysterical laughter.

"I guess that explains what you did with our house elf," Draco added. Goyle sprayed milk all over the table as the rest of the table erupted in a guffaw.

"Don't listen to them," Hermione urged, as Ron ducked back from under the table. "Harry, a house elf would never send a Howler. Who could make them?"

Harry glanced up at the teachers' table. But of course it was breakfast, and Severus was never there for breakfast.

Harry thought Severus' attitude might make this easier. Or at least a little. But when Harry stood outside the gargoyle to Dumbledore's office, his heart was a heavy as lead. Perhaps… he didn't have to tell Dumbledore about the accident. Maybe he could convince Dumbledore to end the Dark Arts classes some other way. Harry was already not going to tell him everything. Perhaps, somehow…

As Harry stood waiting for his appointment with Professor Dumbledore, the passageway opened of its own accord. A familiar figure emerged. He was on his way out. Their eyes met briefly.

Severus did not look angry or resentful. Just spent. Resigned. He walked more softly than was his wont, and he left without a backward glance. His shoulders were neither stiff nor proud and he seemed quieter than usual, though he always walked almost silently. Harry watched him, unable to speak, knowing Severus was aware of what he was here to do: end Severus' dream of starting a Dark Arts class at Hogwarts, teaching what he really loved far more than Potions. End his last hope of ever getting the Defence Against the Dark Arts position he had coveted for so long. Consign him permanently to the Potions dungeon, with a black mark on his record, to go along with the already long list of black marks from his being a Death Eater. Humiliate him. And possibility cost Severus the trust of the one man who had believed in him. Perhaps ever. That last was the worst, Harry thought.

Harry knew exactly what he was doing to Severus. He didn't blame him for being angry. Not a bit. But the classes, they just could not go on.

Harry was still thinking of alternative ways he could end the Dark Arts classes when he stepped into Dumbledore's office. Various silver instruments turned at Harry's approach, and followed him as he crossed the room. Professor Albus Dumbledore was already seated behind his desk. His head lifted expectantly.

"Ah. Harry. It good to see you again. I trust you are well?" Albus Dumbledore said kindly, his gentle eyes sparkling behind his spectacles. He seemed to know or guess that Harry came on an unusually important matter, as he didn't interrupt Harry's thoughts with his usual offer of candy or tea. Instead he simply waited patiently for Harry to speak.

"Uh. Yes. I suppose so," Harry couldn't keep his eyes off the floor. The silence stretched on, not uncomfortably, but for what seemed a very long time. Dumbledore's face remained patient, as Harry struggled for words.

"I, uh, can't do the Dark Arts classes. Not anymore," Harry finally said, glad it was finally out.

"Why is that, Harry?" asked Professor Dumbledore softly.

"Um. I… " Harry was finding this even more difficult than he imagined, "I'm really not any good at it."

Even as he said it, Harry knew it sounded ridiculous. But Dumbledore nodded knowingly.

"We all must face things we are not good at, Harry. Why, look at me - I am the most terrible typist. One finger. That's all I can do," Dumbledore smiled. "But still, typing must be done somehow. Just because it's not what I'm best at doesn't mean I can avoid it."

Harry couldn't think of a single circumstance where Professor Dumbledore would need to type. But that was beside the point.

"Harry, the year is nearly over," Dumbledore said, gesturing vaguely. "Could there be any other reason you cannot do the Dark Arts classes anymore?"

Harry sighed. There was no way to avoid telling him what had happened.

"There was an accident…" Harry began. He explained in detail about the quicksilver Spell, and what had happened after. Minus, of course, his personal relationship with Severus. Dumbledore listened seriously. At the end he nodded.

"I suspected as much at the time," Dumbledore said, with a deep sigh.

"Harry, the Dark Arts are dangerous. Accidents like that are quite common. Granted, Professor Snape should have brought you to Madam Pomfrey instead of tending you himself. Although under the circumstances, she hadn't nearly his experience with exactly that sort of accident, it is true. And he showed poor judgment in hiding it. But well, a lifelong habit of secrecy isn't going to go away just because I wish it. It has served me well, from time to time. He has come a long way, as few know better than I."

"But - but he likes Dark Magic! A lot… a lot more than he should," Harry said anxiously.

"Yes." Dumbledore said sadly. Professor Dumbledore rose to show Harry to the door. "Well, if that is all, Harry…"

"No! It isn't - !" Harry said desperately. "I can't go back! I can't - I can't do Dark Magic!"

Dumbledore stopped and turned towards Harry. "I'm sorry… say that again?"

"I don't want to do Dark Magic any more," Harry admitted at last, his shoulders slumped. He hung his head.

Harry didn't see the slow smile of relief that passed across Dumbledore's face. But he heard the relief in his voice.

"I can't tell you how very glad I am to hear that."

Harry looked up in amazement.

Dumbledore sat back down and continued. "There is no definitive answer on Dark Magic. Some of it is not at all evil. And even 'evil' spells can be used for good, as no doubt Professor Snape has told you. Yes, yes, Harry, he and I have had many discussions on that subject. He is quite the debater! And he is correct of course, if not exactly right. 'Correct' and 'right' are not really the same. Perhaps it is good to know some Dark Magic. Many friends - Professor Snape for one and some fairly outstanding Aurors - have a great deal of knowledge of it.

"But… I can't help but believe that the best protection one can have, is to feel no desire to use it at all."

"Then… you were testing me?" Harry asked.

"No, no. Severus, Professor Snape to you, was quite convincing that you needed the extra protection. I simply trusted you. Trusted your judgment. You are a grown man now, Harry. You will need to make a lot of difficult decisions, not the least of which involve Dark Magic."

"Severus? It was his idea?"

"Yes. I hope he learned something. You can see now, why I cannot give him the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, much as I would like to. Short of Lord Voldemort or Lucius Malfoy I could hardly ask for a more qualified teacher. Potions, Professor Snape is good at, but it is not where he really shines and he knows it. Yet I would lose him, I fear, yet again." Dumbledore sighed. "I have grown quite fond of our dear Severus. There are those who feel I should not trust him. Although they tend to be the same ones who tell me to shut down Slytherin. Oh… what then? Then the young Malfoys of this world would have no choice at all…"

Dumbledore paused. "On the subject of Severus, I must admit I was a little surprised when I learned of your relationship with him..."

Harry froze in shock.

Dumbledore rambled on, "In fact I was so startled, I think I should try to bottle that as some sort of mild Stasis Spell. Yes, I should get started on that right away..."

Dumbledore glanced up at Harry's dumbfounded face.

"Oh, he told me, Harry," Dumbledore explained, "When he told me about the accident. Just before you arrived. I am so glad he came to me…"

"I wasn't going to talk about it! He - he didn't need to do that…" Harry moaned.

"If he hadn't told me himself, I would have dismissed him. Immediately." Dumbledore glanced at Harry over his glasses.

"Legally, Harry, you do have your majority. But we are responsible for you here at Hogwarts. You are an adult, and I consider you as such, especially in light of your recent decisions. It was very difficult to choose to end this class, despite the cost to your relationship with him. It was a very mature decision. But you must understand how this would appear: a Professor, a former Death Eater, seduces an impressionable young student?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at Harry. "Even one so unimpressionable he won't learn the Dark Arts - even with my direct orders. But Severus now, he is a grown man, if a lonely one. I expect better self control on his part."

"And I don't? Have self control?" Harry spoke up.

"Did you want to?" Dumbledore asked, then nodded at Harry's silence. "It takes experience to know why one should. Even if one is able. There are those who would believe that this is a plot by Voldemort. Others, who know Severus better might think he was getting revenge at your posthumously. If it helps, Severus' feelings for you do appear to be sincere. But if your parents or guardians ever filed a complaint with the school governors, there would be nothing I could do for him. Or for you. To keep it out of the papers and so forth. You are unfortunately famous, and the dismissal of a prominent teacher would be considered news worthy of The Daily Prophet."

That danger occurred to Harry for the first time, and it brought him sharply. His eyes widened.

"Given your parents, and the Dursleys, such a complaint is unlikely. As no doubt Severus knew. So the decision remains in my hands. If it were anyone else… well, his is a special situation. His life, even, hangs in the balance.

"Harry, with the loss of your parents, you have had precious little guidance. I have provided what I can. But now you are as I said, a grown man. I cannot protect you from the difficult decisions.

"I ask you to consider something for me. You do not like to practice the Dark Arts yourself. But do you think perhaps, that you are still attracted to the Dark, vicariously, through Professor Snape? Severus. A man who virtually lives and breathes it?"

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Oh, what it took just to get him past the Wards at Hogwarts when I hired him, fairly dripping as he was with Dark Magic! That first week, he kept tripping one alarm, trap or another. He was very annoyed to find himself stuck to a wall or some such." Dumbledore eyes sparkled with mirth. Harry could well imagine Severus' explosive irritation. "I learned language such as I never imagined."

"That Dark Mark of his - you know of it, do you? Yes - that was definitely the worst. Nothing we could do would get rid of it. He tried so often after Voldemort's fall. It is so fundamentally evil… well, we had to disable certain defences and invent entirely new ones. Just so he could walk these halls with that on him. Some of the replacements are themselves Dark Magic," Dumbledore shrugged, "there was no other choice. I did not like it of course, but it had to be done. I put them in place myself…"

Harry was silent. Thoughtful.

"Does that surprise you, that I would use Dark Magic?"

"No." Harry answered, looking up at Dumbledore with a slight smile. Understanding.

"Harry, whatever you decide, I want you to know that I am very proud of you."

Harry never left Dumbledore without the feeling that he had just come away with an armload of unexpected riches. Professor Albus Dumbledore never ceased to surprise him. Harry left the stairwell and squared his shoulders. What he needed first was to find Hermione.

Finis. Next: 'A Crash Course on the Dark Arts.'