"Another one?" Hermione asked, leaning forward over her cereal the moment Harry sat down. Harry nodded, eyes on Padfoot's empty seat at the staff table; he was trying to coordinate with Robards and Scrimgeour, as he had been every morning but one since Harry'd had that first dream of Voldemort sending Wormtail to Godric's Hollow.

"Where was it this time?" Ron asked.

"Hogsmeade," Harry said quietly. Draco glanced up from his book, frowning.

"And you still think something's… strange-"

"Yes," Harry said firmly, and rubbed his fingertips against his scar. It hadn't been hurting, exactly, but he'd been more aware of it of late, and wasn't sure what to think about that. The other three noticed the gesture and exchanged glances.

"Do you need to go to the-"

"No, Hermione," Harry said, equal parts exasperated and fond. "I just- it- these dreams don't feel the same. And I don't know why, and I don't know why he keeps sending Wormtail away…" Or if he did at all, because Robards - despite apparating straight to wherever Harry told Padfoot Wormtail was going to be - was yet to see a whisker of him.

"Are you sure they're real?" Draco asked.

"They're real," Harry said. He was sure they were, but there was something about them that was different than normal, something that Harry hadn't been able to put his finger on yet. None of them argued with him; whether it was because they were willing to take him at his word, or simply because they knew it would be useless to argue with him, Harry couldn't be sure. Harry glanced up at the staff table again out of habit, though Padfoot had still not made an appearance.

"Snape's staring at you again," he said to Draco.

"Yes, I know- Don't all look at him!" Draco said, as Ron and Hermione both turned to check.

"Sorry!" Hermione said, turning around as if she'd been stung - not subtle at all. Ron ignored Draco entirely, looking up at the staff table for a few moments, before turning back around. He moved his empty plate aside and set his fork down on the wood of the table directly in front of him. This time, it was Harry and Hermione that exchanged a look (Draco was hiding from Snape behind his book); there was almost always something in front of Ron, whether it was a quill, a fork, a bit of scrap parchment.

It was hard to pinpoint exactly when it had started, but Hermione'd noticed a few weeks ago and mentioned it to Harry, who hadn't been able to stop noticing it since. They'd asked him about it a few times, but Ron's ears would go red and he'd mutter something about it being silly and not to worry, and that it was nothing, really.

It clearly wasn't nothing; Ron was currently frowning down at his fork with a intensity he usually reserved for Quidditch or chess. But, he was obviously reluctant to talk about it, and Harry wasn't actually worried, just curious, so he'd let Ron explain when he was ready.

A plate with two pieces of jam-laden toast appeared in front of Harry as someone sat down on his other side.

"Reckon I've seen you eat more before one Quidditch game than you have at breakfast all of this week," George said. Fred, who'd sat down on his other side, nodded and gave the toast a significant look. Harry picked a piece up and took an unenthusiastic bite, earning him a pair of identical grins, and a rather satisfied look from Hermione, who'd said something similar to him yesterday. "Something on your mind, Harrykins?"

"You've had that look about you," George added. Harry wasn't sure what that look meant, but Ron and Hermione both nodded seriously, as if they understood exactly what George was talking about.

"What look?" Harry asked. He had another bite of toast. He hadn't felt like eating, but now that he'd started, he was suddenly hungry, and the jam was pretty good; just the right balance between sweet and tart.

"The something's-going-to-happen-but-I-haven't-worked-out-what-yet look," Fred said. "Hasn't really ever boded well for anyone in the past, so we thought we'd check in…" Despite his light-hearted tone, Fred's scent and expression was grim. And, despite that, Hermione looked like she wanted to laugh.

"I have a look for that?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yeah," George said. "Everyone knows it, too."

"Hogwarts can be pretty chaotic, but you can usually tell what sort of day you're going to have by the ceiling - for the weather - by Filch - because if Peeves has been playing up, he won't be at breakfast - and by the look on your face." His tone was teasing, but Harry was fairly sure he wasn't joking. "And you've got a look this morning, so…"

"Weird dreams," Harry admitted, and Fred and George exchanged a look. "And- yeah I haven't worked out what, or why." He smiled wryly. "Sorry." There was also the Tournament, which had been hanging over him since term started. He still had no idea what to expect from it, but knew it was probably not going to be anything good.

Dreams aside, Harry's term so far had been uneventful, and he'd been fairly relaxed as a result, knowing that whatever Voldemort had planned involved the Tournament, and that the Tournament didn't start until the end of October... The end of October was rapidly approaching, though - Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would arrive next week, and with the latter would come Karkaroff - and then Harry would have to be on his guard again.

He was saved from having to explain any of that to Fred and George though, by the sound of wings; Hedwig landed gracefully in front of Harry, her wings sending Hermione's curls blowing into her face and Ron's. She offered Harry her leg and he pulled off both letters - one addressed to him, one to Padfoot , both in Dora's handwriting - only to be nipped in response.

"I'm not going to read it," Harry assured her, "but he's not here and I've got Defence second." She nipped him again, gentler this time, helped herself to some of Ron's juice - since Harry had none of his own - and launched herself back into the air.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, and Harry looked up, but she wasn't talking to him: the twins had received their own post from a small tawny owl, but George was pocketing the letter rather than reading it, and both smelled shifty as they stood.

"Don't be nosey." Fred leaned across the table to tweak her nose, George sniggering as she swatted him away. Hermione scrunched her face up at their retreating backs.

"That was… you don't think they're up to something, do you?" she asked Harry, frowning slightly.

"They're always up to something," Draco said, not seeming even slightly concerned. Harry set Dora's letter aside in favour of the two photographs she'd included; one was of Stella looking up at the camera with big brown eyes and a gummy smile - she still looked a bit like a garden gnome, but the resemblance seemed to be decreasing with each passing day - and sucking on her chubby fist. The second was of Moony lying on the couch in his cottage, with Stella on his chest, the pair of them fast asleep. "The less you know, Granger, the less you're implicated."

"I suppose," Hermione said, and her eyes - which had been following the twins - dropped to the photographs Harry had just offered her. She took them, smiling.

They stayed until their breakfast dishes vanished, and Ron - who'd been still and silent for some time now - made a startled, triumphant sort of noise, then paused, frowned, and groaned.


"Thanks, Professor."

"No worries," Sirius said, with a distracted smile; his fourth years were arriving, and he was a little nervous about their lesson today. "See you on Thursday."

"Yes, sir." Claire said, then flushed pink and dragged her friends away, giggling. When he'd been their age, that reaction would have delighted him. Now - while still flattering - it made him rather uncomfortable and Sirius was glad his fourth years were noisy enough that he couldn't overhear whatever it was they were whispering. Harry, though - lingering by the door with Cedric - clearly could; his expression was positively scandalised, and he looked up at Sirius and flushed almost as brightly as Claire had before wrinkling his nose. Cedric laughed, clapped him on the shoulder, and continued out.

The fourth years hovered by the walls, correctly interpreting the way the desks had been pushed to one side as an impending practical lesson. Conversation quietened to a nervous murmur.

"Blaise, can you collect everyone's essays and put them on my desk, please." Sirius pushed off said desk and went to stand before his class. "The rest of you, bunch up. We've covered a lot of curse theory and ethics so far this term, and last lesson you'll remember we had an introduction into the Unforgivables." And what a lesson that had been; it wouldn't have been an easy one with any class, but, though he'd kept it factual and not used any photographs or illustrations or demonstrations to further explain anything, Neville had still gone white as a sheet, Hermione had clenched her hand so tightly around her quill that it had snapped and Ron had gone very still and not looked up from his desk the entire lesson. Harry had shrunk in his chair, uncomfortable and unhappy, with his jaw set and arms folded.

"Today, I'll be giving you a slightly more practical introduction - to the Imperius curse." Ron went white, and Harry shifted slightly closer, muttering something Sirius didn't hear.

"But it's illegal-" Lavender began.

"Yes," Sirius said. "But I've got permission from the Ministry and Dumbledore to do it anyway. That said, if you don't want a turn fighting it, you're more than welcome to stand out and just watch. And, if you're not comfortable doing even that much, you can go - at any point. Today won't be graded, and there won't be homework." Hermione looked both relieved and displeased by that news, and Sirius had to hide a smile.

He was silent for a few moments, but no one moved.

"All right, then. I'll get you to line up - usual rules-" Which meant no more than two people per House in a row. "-and come forward one at a time-" He gestured for them to start moving, and kept talking while they did: "The curse is going to make you feel… light. Free. You're going to want to do exactly what I say... which is sort of the point of it. The key to fighting is to either find loopholes in your instructions, or to just be stubborn and refuse to do what you're told. Sounds pretty straightforward, I know, but trust me when I say it isn't; the more reasonable my instructions are, the less you'll be inclined to argue and the more likely you'll be to follow them. Similarly, the more you trust the caster, the less likely you are to question them and just get on with what you've been told." He looked at Harry as he said it, then at Ron; they'd ended up at the front of the line because everyone else had made a concerted effort to not go first. Hermione and Draco were a little further back but he looked at them too. "Any questions? No?" He gestured for Ron to step forward, and Ron did, pale beneath his freckles, fists clenched. "Imperio." A glazed look came over Ron's face, and Harry - next in line - looked haunted, for all that he'd clearly tried to be reassuring before. "Sing the school song."

Ron began without hesitation. In the middle of the line, Hydrus and Daphne laughed and whispered to each other until they caught Sirius' warning look and fell quiet, insincere looks of contrition on their faces.

"... young with scabby knees..." Interestingly, while there had been no pause in the song, Ron's ears were turning steadily redder, which meant he was self-aware enough to be embarrassed.

When he'd finished, Sirius released him from the spell, patted him on the shoulder and gestured for Harry to step forward. "Imperio," Sirius said, with no small amount of trepidation; Harry had apparently thrown Wormtail's curse at the end of last term, but this time, it would be coming from Sirius and that would put him at a disadvantage. Harry's expression became strangely empty, and Sirius didn't like it. He swallowed. "Act like a lion." Harry hunched over like he might go down onto all fours, but then he twitched and stopped, still awkwardly bent. He was fighting it, Sirius could see it in his eyes. "Be a lion, Harry," Sirius said, more firmly this time. For a moment, Harry stayed where he was, then, slowly straightened, expression relaxing until it was close to normal, though there was still something in his eyes... A murmur went through the line.

"Did he beat it?" Parvati asked after a moment, from between Lavender and Tracey.

"Not yet," Sirius told the class, but kept his eyes on Harry's slightly vacant ones. "Not quite. But he's arguing with it… found a loophole. If I give him more specific instructions, though... Harry, roar like a lion…"

Harry pressed his lips together but his mouth moved as if he was chewing something unpleasant. Sirius grinned, proud of him, but said, "Roar, Harry." Harry made a sound deep in his throat that was more a growl than a roar, mouth still clamped shut. "Properly," Sirius said, arching an eyebrow. "Nice and loud." Harry was silent, eyes glittering like he was in on some private joke. Sirius had had enough experience with Kreacher over the years to guess what loophole he might have used this time.

"So everyone can hear you."

Harry's mouth started to twist again.

Then, after several long seconds, in hoarse voice barely louder than a whisper, he said, "No." At the back of the line, Ron shook his head, grinning for the first time that lesson, and midway down, Hermione and Draco seemed impressed but unsurprised. Sirius tilted his head to send Harry on his way, and Dean and Neville reached out to clap him on the back as he passed them.

"Theodore," Sirius said, and he stepped forward. "Imperio."

Theodore did an admirable job at pretending to be an owl, and Millicent - when asked to act out her favourite children's story - made a very convincing Babbity Rabbity. Seamus - given the same instruction - chose a muggle one, and tried to pitch himself off Sirius' desk pretending to be a Humpty Dumpty (whatever that was) and was only saved from injury because Dean was familiar with the story and realised what was going to happen in time to warn Sirius to cast a Cushioning Charm.

When asked to dance, Pansy performed a short ballet routine, and Tracey did some awkward disco style movements. Parvati did an impression of McGonagall - accent and all - and Lavender pretended to be an American witch and told them a number of funny stories about her made up life at Ilvermorny.

"If you didn't know her, though, you'd believe it, wouldn't you?" Sirius asked pointedly. That - a reminder of the dangers of the curse - sobered the class up.

Blaise was the first since Harry to show any signs of resisting; when Sirius told him to be a Quidditch goal hoop, he did as he was told and stood with his arms in a circle above his head, but hissed and argued with himself and swore aloud as he did so. It earned him quite a few raised eyebrows from the other Slytherins - Blaise was usually quiet, cutting when he couldn't be, and refined - but Harry smiled slightly from his place in the line, perhaps remembering a time when Blaise was a Benson, not a Zabini.

"Quiet," Sirius said, after Blaise let loose a string of expletives that had more than a few of the others tittering. Blaise fell silent, expression mutinous, and Sirius gave him a few seconds - both to let him try to fight it, but also to emphasise that Blaise had only been able to talk because Sirius had let him - before releasing him, with five points to Slytherin. Neville, similarly, struggled against the curse; after Sirius gave him his instructions, he stood, quivering, for almost twenty seconds before giving in and doing three cartwheels and a backflip.

"I thought you had it," Sirius said, after awarding him five points of his own.

"I was arguing," Neville said shyly, "but I knew wasn't going to win, so it was easier to just go with it than to get hurt resisting… I can't actually do cartwheels, you know."

Vincent was up next, and sang a very impressive opera song, and Goyle flopped around on the floor like a fish out of water. He came out of it laughing, and Hydrus, Daphne and Nadia all laughed too - with him or at him, Sirius couldn't tell - but the rest of the Slytherins and the Gryffindors were subdued. Sirius was grimly pleased; he'd picked instructions that wouldn't do more than vaguely embarrass the kids, but that would hopefully impart on them how much damage the curse could do in the wrong hands, how far from their normal self a person could be forced to behave while they were under it.

"Imperio," Sirius said, when Hermione reached the front. He had her commentate an imaginary Quidditch match, and she did so very enthusiastically, even looking to Sirius at one point to make sure she'd used the right term for a particular foul. Sirius was surprised, initially, that she didn't fight it, or at least do something to indicate she was aware of the situation - like Ron's red ears, or Blaise's protests - but she didn't. After giving it a bit more thought, though, he was less surprised; it wasn't a lack of mental strength, necessarily, but Hermione had always had a need to prove herself, especially to figures of authority. Her very nature made her susceptible.

She came out of it looking disappointed, and embarrassed, and accepted a pat on the shoulder from a grim Ron, and an understanding grimace from Harry as she passed them in the line.

"Imperio." Rather than go dreamy and lax, Draco stiffened, eyes glazing over not in a vacant way, but in a withdrawn sort of way. He also went pale - paler than usual. "Pretend you're Severus Snape," Sirius said. Draco was the only one he trusted with that particular instruction; Snape, while he'd been better in the last week or so, was incredibly unpopular at the moment, and impressions from anyone else would probably have been… unfavourable.

Draco's eyes were suddenly hard and very present, but only for a moment; then, his eyes and scent were vulnerable and slightly panicky, even if his posture was as stiff and upright as ever. They were all his own reactions, not a result of the Imperius, though, which was incredibly impressive, but Sirius was too concerned by his reaction to focus on that just then.

"Draco?" he said, lowering his wand. "Are you all right?" Draco jerked his head to the side and took a step back.

"I- can I-?" He made a vague motion toward the door.

"If you need to, absolutely," Sirius said. Draco all but fled. Sirius looked to Harry, but Ron was already stepping out of line. He grabbed his own bag and Draco's abandoned one, and walked quickly to the door. "Thanks, Ron." Sirius looked at Harry again, and he was frowning, but it was curious more than worried, and that made Sirius feel a little better.

"Next?"


"You all right, mate?" Weasley asked, puffing a little as he fell into line beside Draco. Draco wasn't surprised, not really, but he almost wished it had been Granger or Potter that had come after him.

"There's nothing actually wrong with me," Draco said, except there was, and he was not okay, not-

"That's not a yes, though," Weasley said. He adjusted his bag - bags, Draco noticed absently, because his own was there as well - and glanced over at Draco. There was something all too understanding in his tone that - which, along with the set of his shoulders, the and the grim lines around his mouth - suggested the lesson had unsettled Weasley, and not just because of Draco's reaction to it. And, yet, here he was putting that aside to try to make sure Draco was all right. "I mean, you fought it, so..."

"Occlumency," Draco said, with a wave of his hand, and felt a little guilty because he had no intention of checking to make sure Weasley was all right, not just then, because there were other things on his mind. "But that's- that's not-"

"Is it to do with… you know… the dragons?"

"No," Draco said honestly, and Weasley looked a little relieved. "I just- can we not talk about it? Please." If it had been Potter, he could have talked about it. Potter would go quiet, but there wouldn't be anything pitying about it. Granger would react angrily. Either of those, Draco could deal with. Weasley, though, Weasley would be shocked, horrified. Weasley wouldn't understand, and Draco couldn't deal with that at the moment.

"Sure," Weasley said, putting his hands up in a little gesture of surrender. "One for Snape, I s'pose."

"Hardly," Draco said, so surprised by the sudden change in topic to remember to brood. "In case it's escaped your notice, he and I aren't really on good terms at the moment."

"Where are we going, then?" Weasley asked, looking equally surprised. Draco took a moment to get his bearings. "I just figured- this is the way to the dungeons, so…"

It was.

Draco stopped dead in the corridor, suddenly uncertain. He hadn't really been giving his destination any thought, had just started walking, and, while he'd been telling the truth when he said he and Severus were on fairly strained terms, he sort of wanted to talk to Severus about this anyway. What did it say about him, that, despite his distance and occasional outright rudeness, Severus was still the first person Draco wanted to see when he felt unsettled? Severus hadn't ever turned Draco away when he really needed him, but there was a first time for everything, and, with things as they were, that first time could be today. Draco wouldn't even be particularly surprised, though his stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought.

"I suppose it is," Draco said, and started walking again.

"Wait, so you are going to him, or you're not?"

"I am," Draco said, and grimaced. "For better or worse." He was a little nervous about Weasley's response; Severus had been particularly nasty to all of Draco's friends this term, and Weasley had never had much fondness or patience for Severus to begin with. Weasley offered him a small smile.

"Even if things are a bit- even if he's a massive-" Weasley cut himself off with visible effort, and grinned, sheepish. "Look, what I'm trying to say, is everything else can be complicated, but when it comes down to it, he's your family, and just 'cause I don't like him right now doesn't mean you're not allowed to want to see him. Just don't expect me to come with you all the way; he'll probably dock fifty points the second he sees me, for walking too loudly, or having too many freckles, or something."

Draco grimaced again, because that was entirely possible.

They parted ways at the steps leading down to the dungeons, Weasley passing over his bag, and promising to grab him an apple from the Great Hall and send it to Arithmancy with Potter if Draco was with Severus through the whole break.

Then, Draco was alone, second-guessing himself for having come down to the dungeons at all, nervous about what Severus would say. His mood was not improved when he reached Severus' office, and found - for the first time ever - that it was locked and wouldn't let him in, even when he said his name and that he wanted to wait in there for Severus' lesson to finish. That had never not worked before, except for during first year when Severus had locked himself away just after losing his leg.

Stymied, Draco walked slowly to Severus' classroom, knocked once, and poked his head in when Severus curtly invited him to.

Twenty-something curious fifth years turned to look at Draco, but he ignored them in favour of his godfather. When he opened his mouth to speak, though, he found he couldn't, found himself feeling silly for being there at all, and worried that Severus would roll his eyes and send him away.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy?" Severus said, arching an eyebrow. He seemed concerned - not obviously, but it was there on his face, and even in his tone - and Draco wondered what his own face looked like to get that sort of response.

"Your office is locked," Draco said after a moment, as calmly as he could manage.

The fifth years began to whisper amongst themselves, while Severus studied Draco. Draco was only managing not to fidget because of hours and hours spent learning not to under Severus' watchful eye, and even then it was a near thing.

"Wait for me," Severus said. "I'll be there shortly."