Author's Note: I apologize for the long wait. I've been rundown with bronchitis and such, but updates will be more frequent! (Er...those that are still with me, that is.) Anywhoo…I've edited Chapters 1 & 2, mainly adding a bit of length. Please re-read if you wish. ^_^
I also have a favor to ask. Those of you who upload chapters frequently…I was wondering if you could e-mail me at chise2003@fanfiction.net with tips on uploading? I've tried a few things, but my chapters won't italicize/bold/indent when I've had it perfect on Microsoft Word. Suggestions? Anything is very much appreciated! ^_^;;
Chapter 3
"We always do our own thing, though," Hermione winked as Ron held up the cloak. "Go take a peek and see if the hall is clear. I don't know who's on duty tonight, but I'd rather not meet Umbridge if I can help it."
Ron crawled through the portrait hole and creaked it open, casually peering left and right, up and down. "It's clear for now," he called back. "Hurry up so we can get the cloak on before someone comes!"
Harry and Hermione obeyed, and soon they were all under the wrap, albeit a bit snugly. Somehow the cloak just didn't fit as well as it had when they were eleven. Harry wondered for a moment if he could possibly find another. How else would all three sneak around after hours? Maybe he'd ask Moody…or Mundungus. He had a knack for finding rare items, even if he was a cheat.
Slowly creeping through the castle, they made their way to the Entrance Hall. They stopped and leaned against the side of the wall, listening for noises. They could hear a faint muttering combined with the sloshing of water. "Filch," Hermione hissed. "He's mopping the floors at this hour?"
"Probably wants to score even more points with Umbridge," Ron muttered under his breath. He stepped back suddenly, inadvertently smashing Hermione's toes in the process. She let out a muffled groan, and Harry, still stuck in his own musing, bumped into their backs. All three took a loud and painful crash to the floor.
"Who's there?" bellowed Filch. After hearing nothing, he growled, "I know you're out there."
Wordlessly, Harry grabbed Ron and Hermione by the arms as he heard Filch's footsteps pounding up the stone staircase. Panicking, he snatched his cloak from the floor and wrapped it around them hurriedly. All three threw their backs against the wall, hands clasped over their mouths.
Filch appeared, Mrs. Norris nearby. "Well, my sweet. Seems as though we have some work to do," he cooed. Harry couldn't help but feel Mrs. Norris' eyes burning straight through him. Filch slowly walked down the hall, arms outstretched for any sign of movement.
Mrs. Norris meowed loudly, sitting directly in front of Hermione. Harry wanted nothing more than to kick her out of the way, but remained motionless, barely breathing. Just as Filch brought his eyes in direct contact with Harry's, his arm outstretching again, fingers ever close to coming in contact with Harry's nose, there was a loud crash where he had been mopping.
"What the hell?" Filch growled, storming back down the corridor. "PEEVES!"
Peeves cackled and flew back up the stairs and down the hall opposite Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Filch followed, swearing loudly, and after one last glaring hiss, Mrs. Norris followed her master obediently.
"That…was close," Hermione whispered, her heart still beating frantically. "I don't know about you two, but I'd rather not run into Filch again. Hurry up!"
They ran down the steps, extra careful not to bump into each other again, and made their way outside virtually unnoticed. They stumbled down the walkway onto the green grass, hiding in the shadows.
"I really thought Filch was going to get us for a minute!" Ron laughed, pulling the cloak off, spreading his arms out wide. Hermione couldn't help but smile as well, though her chest was till uncomfortably tight. She didn't like, nor approve, of sneaking around nights, but right now she wanted what was best for Harry.
"Ron, not so loud! Where do you want to go then, Harry?" she asked. She saw him glancing over at the lake. "How about the lake?"
"Yeah, sure. Whatever you guys want," he replied, staring through the darkness to the water. Had his father really tormented Snape at that very spot? Running his bare feet across the grass, he tried to envision it. He tried to picture himself as James Potter, tormenting a much-younger Snape out of sheer boredom. He just couldn't imagine it. Yet, he saw it with his own eyes. Rather, Snape's eyes, but a memory is a memory…
He threw himself backward onto the grass and spread his arms out, Ron and Hermione following moments after. Staring up at the star-studded sky, Harry absentmindedly asked, "What time do you suppose it is by now?"
"I'm not sure," said Ron, his arms up over his head.
"I'd say three or so, but I'm not really sure, either," Hermione replied, her eyes searching out constellations she had once read about in Muggle astronomy books. She had always found them fascinating. "Have you guys studied constellations yet?"
"Firenze told us a bit about them. I must say, though, he's much better than Trelawney. At least I don't have to hear her predict Harry's untimely death anymore!" Ron grinned. Pointing up at the dark sky, he continued, "That's…uh…Harry? What is that?"
"Dammit, I forgot to do my Divination homework!" Harry groaned. "I had worried so much over that stupid Potions essay that I didn't think twice about anything else. Er, come to think of it…I don't have my Potions work done either, do I?"
"I'll help you tomorrow. We'll come up with something," Hermione assured, her face gently lit up by the moonlight.
The three remained on the grass for what seemed an hour, just enjoying the silence. They had huddled up, Harry in the middle, Ron on the left, and Hermione to the right, arms over their heads. Through their five years together at Hogwarts, they had never felt so joined together. Something about the situation, the closeness that had come over them…Harry realized he was foolish for not coming to them sooner. They had always been there for him; he was just too stubborn and full of pride to ask for help.
"Harry?" Hermione said softly, finally breaking the silence. She turned her head to look at him.
"Yeah?" he replied, his eyes closed underneath his glasses.
"Did Snape…did he…well, I mean…what did he say?"
"He told me to leave his office and never come back."
"Can I ask why?" She and Ron had turned to their sides, facing Harry intently.
"As I said in the common room, I had been poking around where I shouldn't have been…"
Ron, who had obviously been trying to piece things together since that evening, thoughtfully said, "Did you enter his mind or something?"
"Not exactly," Harry replied, frowning a bit. "He put a few important memories into Dumbledore's Pensieve that he obviously didn't want me to see, and, well…he had to leave for a minute with Malfoy, and…I…."
"You what?" Hermione looked a bit puzzled, perhaps trying to think of what Snape would want hidden from Harry.
"I looked."
"What did you see?" Ron asked. "Must be something to do with You-Know-Who, right? I've never trusted that guy!" Hermione groaned again, muttering the same thing she always had about Dumbledore's trust in Snape meant everything.
"No, Hermione's right. It's nothing like that. I just can't tell you," Harry replied, his eyes shut again.
"He caught you then, I take it?" Hermione pieced together, imagining Snape beating Harry's head against the Pensieve repeatedly. She looked almost predatory, yet cringing all the same. "Did he hurt you, Harry?!"
"No, not really," Harry's mouth twisted to an odd, uncomfortable shape. "I swore I'd never repeat what I saw, and I can't. Even if it's Snape…it's just…I…"
"What? What do you mean 'not really'?"
"What, Harry?"
"I can't even explain it. I wish I could tell you, but I can't. I'm sorry, I really am. I have never seen Snape as angry and twisted as that…ever," he sighed almost hopelessly. "I'm sorry."
Hermione looked as though she would burst into tears. Hugging him again, she said, "It's okay. We understand you can't tell us everything, but if you ever change your mind, we'll listen." She paused for a moment, lying back down on the grass. "What are you going to do tomorrow, then? With the meeting, I mean?"
"How did you kn—" Harry began.
"I read a couple pieces of torn parchment that fell onto the floor. I assumed it was Snape. I just…didn't say anything, considering."
"I don't know what I'm going to do. I should apologize, but with all the hate between us, I don't think he'd find it sincere. No, I know he wouldn't find it sincere. I think I'll go and tell him I'll be fine without Occlumency lessons, still apologize, and then leave. I don't want to be there any more than I have to. The way I see it, the quicker I get through it, the better, right?"
Silence overtook the three again, and they remained together on the grass, side-by-side. Hermione eventually fell asleep against Harry's side, but he and Ron continued talking.
"Do you know what you want to be yet? You know, after Hogwarts?" Ron asked, and rolling his eyes at Hermione, grinned, "Sleep is for the weak."
"I'm really not sure at this point. Maybe an Auror, but don't they need high marks in Potions?"
"Who knows…though I'm sure McGonagall will help us. Umbridge is about as useful as a doornail."
"Well said," Harry laughed. "What about you? Have you given it much thought?"
"I dunno, really. I'd like to be in touch with you and Hermione still. I wonder if we could all be Aurors?"
"I don't know if Hermione would go for that, but maybe…"
Several moments passed as the two trailed off into their own thoughts. Harry glanced over at Ron who had since fallen asleep, then at Hermione who hadn't moved in hours. He gently moved her and stood up, walking over to the lake. He skimmed his right foot on its cool surface, deep in thought. In a little while he'd be back at Snape's office. The thought made his stomach roll over, but not as deeply as it would have a few hours ago. He smiled over at his friends, sitting down against the tree. They really did help, he admitted to himself.
The tree's coarse surface was hard on his tender back, but he didn't seem to mind it. He envisioned himself as Professor Lupin, leaned back reading a book, casually noting his father's immaturity once in awhile. Closing his eyes, he could still see Snape's memory, clear as day. He could see his father showing off with a stolen Snitch, purposefully making his hair untidy…always grasping for attention everywhere. He couldn't help but feel almost disgraced, but to his own dismay.
He felt ill, picturing Snape upside down, soap bubbles pouring from his mouth, underwear in full view, if not worse. Rubbing his temples fervently, he tried not to think of himself as Snape and his father, Dudley. The similarities were more than noticeable, though.
"Dammit!" Harry growled aloud, throwing a rock into the lake. He put his face in his hands, trying to make the visions disappear. "You're such a prat!" he hissed to the sky. "I'm suffering for your mistakes, you know?"
Had his father been alive, would he have been raised with the same cockiness? Everyone, everyone had always said what a wonderful person the famous James Potter had been, but what Harry could see just…wasn't. His mother, though… what about his mother? He held more in common with his mother than his father, right?
Harry leaned down onto his knees, sighing softly. He had put enough thought into his family dilemma for one night. A short nap before breakfast seemed to be in order. He closed his eyes and concentrated on sleeping. Listening to his own deep breathing, he started to nod off…he was playing Quidditch again, flying free…now, he was eating a feast…Dumbledore was there…things appeared to be normal…everyone was feasting…all the professors…Snape…then….
THUD! Harry jolted awake. As almost by instinct, he jumped up, his heart banging painfully against his chest. What was that? he thought to himself, peering left and right.
Them, Harry's first reasonable thought hit him: What if Umbridge had awoken early and set off to patrol the grounds? Harry rushed over to Ron and Hermione, but neither woke under Harry's quiet pleading. Exasperated, he threw the cloak over them and ran up towards the castle. He tiptoed as close as he dared, then leaned his back against the back wall.
He could hear heavy breathing…very cracked, shaken…? Harry's eyes narrowed curiously, unsure if he wanted to see or not….
It was Snape, crumpled directly in front of the heavy doors. His robes were severely wrinkled, hair completely wild. Harry could see dried blood streaked down his arm…left arm! Hearing Snape's shallow breathing turn to a painful wheeze, Harry knew he would stand up soon and head inside.
Shaking, Harry ran off in the opposite direction. He couldn't go inside, but he felt too vulnerable outside! Logical thoughts were trying to pierce his brain, but his mind wouldn't compute them.
One thing he did know…whatever happened to his Potions Master overnight was not something Harry had been meant to see.