Chapter 11

September 1st dawned bright and clear at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A swift breeze ruffled the hair of students new and old as they dismounted the Hogwarts Express at the station. The tiniest ones were corralled by Hagrid onto boats to cross the massive Black Lake. The older students, each in small groups, mounted the carriages at the front gates, some students gaping in awe at the invisible horses, others intentionally looked away from the boney, leather-winged thestrals. But all felt the welcome of the grand entrance doors, the cheerily burning sconces, the sparkle of the millions of candles floating above them in the Great Hall.

Harry watched them enter from the shadows of the Hall doors, thrown open wide for the moment, to be closed just after the last of the returning students, and then opened again for the benefit of the new First Years. He smiled at the familiar faces he knew from most every house and snickered a little at some of their antics. But there were three returning students he was particularly anxious to see.

"I was talking to Tonks about it earlier. There are different variations of wolvs – Harry!" Hermione sputtered as he sprung out at them from the shadows.

"Wotcher, guys," Harry said in a bad imitation of the metamorphmagus in question. Ron grinned widely and punched at his arm, which Harry nimbly dodged, as they shuffled out of the way to let other students pass.

"We were wondering where we were going to find you," Hermione said. She squinted at him in the bad lighting. "You look good," she said, moving in close to his ear so she could be heard over the bouts of laughter, awe, and jabber going on just next to them. "Much better." He nodded and then drew her close to speak in her ear too.

"Long story. I'll tell you later," he said.

"Yeah, you will," she confirmed, and then slung one arm around his waist and the other wound around Ron's, the latter of whom was gazing longingly at the Great Hall in anticipation of the Feast. They joined the throng and passed through the doors to their table. As he sat, Harry marveled gratefully that the table was full again, of friends if not yet food. He spied Ginny down among her friends a little way down and caught her attention with a wave. She smiled wide in return and he relaxed.

The Sorting, opening song, and opening speech passed in a blur without incident. Save one.

As Dumbledore introduced Professor Longmire as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, some students down at the Slytherin table had begun to mutter to each other loudly, drawing the attention of nearly every other student, each of whom knew better than to interrupt the headmaster. Snape stood up in his spot at the head table to glare at his snakes. This, however, seemed to be the cue they were waiting for, as, at that moment, a handful of voices shouted out a mix of "Traitor", "Muggle-lover" and "Coward."

An astonished hush fell over the rest of the Hall, and the Ravenclaws that were sitting just beside the Slytherin table all leaned further away, to dissociate from them. The headmaster turned wordlessly to Snape and nodded, looking fiercely discontent himself. Snape then, his face now the picture of boredom, drew his wand and twitched it a handful of times, pointed at the Slytherin table. Two Slytherin 5th years, three 6th years, and a 7th year, rose out of their seats into the air squawking. Another series of flicks relieved them of their wands, which clattered loudly to the floor in the otherwise dead silence. He flicked his wand one more time, and the floating students started through the air for the door on their own. Snape turned to address the rest of the hall and said, quite airily, "Would anyone else like to voice their opinion of me? No? Anyone have any business to bring up about any other Heads of House? I'm quite certain Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and McGonagall would welcome such displays with equal shows of gratitude." No one uttered a single syllable.

Under the eyes of every single student and faculty member, Snape glided out from behind the head table, guiding the students at wandpoint like the conductor of a ghostly orchestra, and exited the Great Hall.

Dumbledore resumed his instructions as though nothing had occurred, although he did end with a word of warning to all the students about the tidings of the war, about keeping their friends close, and, looking at the Slytherin table, to not be fooled into wandering down dark paths.

Harry, who had looked on in equal astonishment at the gall of the Slytherin students, found out later that all six were expelled that very night.

"Can you believe it?" Ron muttered to Harry the next day at lunch. They'd just been told by Alecia, who'd been told by an observant Ravenclaw, that the students would not be coming back. "Wonder what got into them? Must have gone completely nutters."

"Ron, are you serious?" Hermione responded sharply from next to him, as Harry looked on. Ron turned to her, offended by her tone. She rolled her eyes and leaned close to whisper in his ear, "Ron, Snape betrayed You-Know-Who, openly, to save Harry. It was in the papers. The Slytherins will have been cautioned by their parents not to trust him." She drew back and indicated Harry lean forward towards them. "It's far from over for Professor Snape. Mark my words. People are going to get ugly."

Harry frowned. He looked up at the head table, but Snape wasn't there. Dumbledore caught his eye as he skimmed the faces there and the headmaster offered a smile. Harry just nodded, and then turned quickly back to the table. Hermione had watched the exchange, concern growing in her expression.

"Harry, are you alright?" She asked. He brought his head back up, nodding. "Did something happen between you and the headmaster?" she asked softly. This time, he beckoned her over.

"Meet me in the common room at 11 tonight. I've a couple things I gotta tell you both." Hermione nodded, Ron's brow furrowed, and Harry, looking down at his mostly empty plate of scrambled eggs, just sighed.

-SSS-

The first day of classes passed painfully slowly for Harry. Though most students had been thoroughly distracted by the Slytherin spectacle of the night before, those who attended classes with Harry directly were less apt to disregard the Daily Prophet's coverage of Harry's kidnapping. Dean and Seamus leaned over to him during Defense and asked how he'd really escaped – speculation from the Prophet had reported that Harry had previously unknown magical talents and might possibly be an unregistered animagus. He'd shook his head silently at them, biting his tongue to keep from a sharp comment, but still managed to capture Professor Longmire's attention. She hadn't tried to single him out again since her confrontation with Snape, 2 days before, and now her look was openly hard and unforgiving. When she finally returned to her lesson – a long introduction on wizard law and its repercussions on spell inventing – Harry bent his head over his desk and didn't make eye contact with Dean or Seamus until the end of class, when he gave them a glare before stalking out.

*Potions was unexpectedly better. Snape had glided to the front of the classroom, wand out, and dutifully informed the classroom that if any other wands emerged for any other reason than to light the fires under their cauldrons, all of term, they would receive immediate detention and lose 10 points minimum. He glowered at each and every student in the room, crossed his arms, and began his lecture. First, he cautioned them all about the importance of NEWT scores, then, he spoke about the essential components of pain reducing potions, which was to be the theme for the week's brews. All the while, he brandished his wand. Harry had looked on with growing interest, considering that now he may finally get the opportunity to focus on his work unmolested by the threat of other students trying to blow up his cauldron.

More interesting, however, was when the questions started. Snape paced down each aisle, asking students chosen, apparently at random, questions from the readings. Harry, who had in fact done the reading, but who had also been under the constant stress of lack of sleep and nightmares, looked up with a hint of apprehension when Snape inevitably stopped before his bench.

"What, Mr. Potter, is the name of the wizard who invented the earliest pain potion currently still in use?" Snape asked, his voice silky, but otherwise devoid of emotion.

"Er," Harry said, stalling for time. Galleg, Gallug, Gellup, maybe, he thought to himself. He sighed. "Mr. Gallag, sir?"

"Is that a question or an answer, Potter?"

"An answer, sir." Snape raised his eyes heavenward in a half roll.

"Incorrect. Mr. Weasley, the same question," Snape continued, taking two steps down the aisle. Ron, who had not done all of the reading, having not decided which classes he was going to attend this year until the very last minute, answered, "Mr. Tom Gallager," with an absurd amount of confidence given he had made the name up entirely on the spot. Even Hermione rolled her eyes from beside him.

"The correct answer is Mr. Brady Gelson, creator of the relief serum currently in use to treat head and tooth aches, available at every apothecary in Great Britain. 5 points from both you and Mr. Potter for wasting class time," Snape responded in the same monotone. Ron grimaced, Harry shrugged, and Snape continued down the row of benches. He stopped before Theodore Nott.

"Mr. Nott," he said, and the Slytherin jerked his head up, "what is the key ingredient of Leeson's acid neutralizing topical ointment?" Nott looked around, thought for a moment, and shrugged.

"Not even a guess?" Snape asked, eyebrow raised. Nott just shook his head and narrowed his eyes a little. Snape blinked and continued down the bench, but not before announcing, "5 points from Slytherin."

The jaw of every student dropped open as though on cue.

"But – " Nott began to protest. He silenced himself under Snape returning glare.

"Problem, Mr. Nott?" He questioned, evenly.

"No, Professor," Nott responded. "None at all."

Snape continued on. Harry watched his retreating back, his own jaw still slightly ajar, mind racing as he considered the implications of Snape's uncharacteristic display of fairness in the classroom.

At the end of class, Harry, Ron and Hermione were just turning the corner when Nott and Blaise Zambini came up behind them and pushed Harry and Ron up against the wall. Pansy Parkinson surreptitiously drew her wand on Hermione from within her sleeve.

"You're going to pay for what you did to Snape," Nott growled as Harry and Ron struggled against the wall. He leaned into Harry's ear. "My dad told me all about your little trip over the summer. He told me all about how you squealed and called out for your mummy while they tortured you. Did you piss your pants, Potter?" Harry's eyes narrowed in anger, and he scrambled to draw his wand, but Nott had pinned his wand arm against the wall, and Nott's own forearm was against his neck, so Harry's free arm was left to try and fend him off physically – a pathetically futile exertion given how much bigger the other boy was. Nott laughed in his face as Harry struggled for breath. He then made the mistake of turning to Zambini to share his snickering. Harry took advantage and kneed him in the groin and Ron kicked the legs out from under Blaise, who subsequently fell into Pansy, knocking them both to the floor.

"Run!" Hermione whispered, frantically, checking once down the hall to see if Snape were heading towards the commotion. They sprinted.

They made it through the rest of the day without obtaining detentions, which Ron considered to be indicative of having taken a significant step towards maturity.

"Especially," he said, plopping down onto the couch in the Common Room at 11 that night, "given we've been contending with insensitive gits all day. Honestly, Harry, I don't know how you managed to not punch Jason in the face when he asked if the Cruciatus hurts more the longer you hold it."

"Well, I mean, he is a Ravenclaw," Hermione muttered, sitting beside Ron. Harry leaned out from the loveseat and looked at her a little incredulously. "I think he was just trying to learn about the curse itself, Harry. Not being insensitive on purpose, I don't think. Sometimes Ravens don't consider that life is more than logic puzzles and calculations."

"Luna does," he pointed out, settling back against the cushions. Ron scoffed.

"Oh, come on, Harry, Luna doesn't do anything normal."

"Speaking of not normal," Hermione said, changing the subject if not the theme of the conversation. "I'm assuming you both noticed something odd about Professor Snape today." Harry nodded, and shifted his eyes to the flaming hearth. "Is that what you wanted to talk about, Harry?" She asked somewhat gently.

"Well, sort of," he said. He looked around the quiet Common Room, checking for any students wandering about last minute. "Look, a lot of stuff happened in the last two weeks after you left."

"What kind of stuff, Harry?"

He released a long breath, leaned forward, and told them about his dreams and about asking Snape for help. He hesitated when it came down to the last few days of staying in Snape's quarters, however. He glossed over the truth and made it seem like Snape had stayed here with him, coaching him in his dorm room.

"So, you can control them now, Harry? Prevent nightmares? Harry that's fantastic!" Ron said, grinning widely. Hermione looked less convinced.

"Does it really work, Harry? All the time? And for how long?" She asked. He bit his lip, and his fist clenched a little automatically.

"Most times it does work," he assured her, "and I've been getting loads more sleep the last few nights."

"But what if it stops working?" Hermione continued, not to be swayed.

"Don't depress the man, Hermione," Ron grumbled from beside her. "This is huge for him. I've been listening to Harry's nightmares for ages. If he can prevent them now, or stop them when they get too, I dunno, scary, then I say go for it." Hermione gave him a disgusted look which Ron did not understand.

"Look, Harry," she said, her voice dropping even softer, "I'm not trying to discredit what you've accomplished. Ron's right, this is a massive step. But, Harry, is it the last step or the first? Didn't Dumbledore give you any alternatives?" Harry looked away again towards the fire, debating within himself about how much he wanted to share. He thought about the warning Snape had given him, and then he thought about how well he'd slept the night before, having occluded his mind before going to bed. He turned to Hermione.

"Dumbledore did say there are other options, in case these ones stop working, but for right now, they are working and that's all that matters, isn't it? We'll cross those bridges when we come to them." Hermione's face was still hard and concerned, however. She stood up, stepped 2 paces across the short distance and, without hesitation, reached out and touched Harry's arm. He'd been watching her, puzzling over her movements, saw her approaching hand, but still, as her fingers closed around his upper arm, he couldn't resist the flinch. She raised an unsurprised brow.

"When will that go away, Harry?" She asked, releasing him, but still standing over him. "Are you satisfied with flinching on contact every day for the rest of your life?" Harry stood up, a bit angry now.

"What do you want from me, Hermione?" he demanded in a harsh whisper. She looked him dead in the eye, unafraid.

"The truth, Harry," she whispered back. "The truth about how we can help you, because you need help, even if you won't admit it."

"I told you, I did admit it," he returned, "I went to Snape, practically on my knees, lapping at his bloody shoes, to ask for help. He gave it to me. End of story."

"Hermione," Ron said, standing. "I think – "

But what Ron thought was put on hold as Hermione stepped forward without warning and threw her arms around Harry's shoulders. He twitched hard, but she didn't release him, and eventually his arms wrapped around her too. Ron looked gob smacked until Hermione reached out, without releasing Harry, and drew him into their hug. It felt awkward, given they were all different heights and that Ron and Harry rarely, if ever, hugged, but Hermione didn't let go until they had both relaxed under her arms.

"I worry because I care, Harry," she said into his ear. She finally pulled away, loosening her grip, and looked between both boys. "We have been down hard roads before and come out on top. But only when we stuck together." She turned to Harry again. "We'll be here for you, whenever you need to talk, Harry. I just want to make sure you know you can tell us anything."

"I know, Hermione," Harry said. "I'm…doing my best." He offered a smile. Curious, he thought. Why does this smile feel like a lie?

-SSS-

Before retreating to bed that night, Harry stopped them to warn them about Professor Longmire.

"She's been…I don't know, weird, so far," Harry said with a grimace. He turned to look at the other two and found himself a little offended by the doubtful expressions on both Ron and Hermione's faces. "What?" He asked, sharply.

"Well, Harry," Hermione started slowly, biting her lip as she paused, clearly thinking of how to put it.

"What has she actually done, mate, to make you edgy?" Ron interrupted, taking the bull by the horns.

"I told you," Harry asserted, frowning, "She tried to use Legilimency on me, she came to the Tower looking for me when I was…not here. And even McGonagall seems to be trying to keep her at a distance from me." Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron. "What?! You don't believe me?"

"No, mate, we believe you," Ron said, with a sympathetic half-smile. "It's just that, compared to, I dunno, the hag from last year, Voldemort sticking out of Quirrell's head, Lockhart, she doesn't seem all that bad. Yet," he added hastily when Harry's eyes began to flicker with anger.

"Harry, you told us yourself," Hermione reminded him, "Dumbledore said if you have any problems with the new teacher – "

"Like, say, she tries to kill me at some point," Harry inserted dryly. Hermione winced apologetically.

"Like that," she agreed, "Dumbledore will listen to you and kick her out. We just have to be extra vigilant is all." Harry narrowed his eyes, huffed, and sat back with aplomb.

"Just wait for her to make the first move, you mean?" He groused.

"If she does make one, yes, Harry," Hermione insisted. She sighed, "Harry I know you have a bad history with DADA teachers, but, honestly, they can't be all bad by default." Harry looked at her, unconvinced, but just shrugged.

"Actually," Ron chimed in, "This might end up being the best year for teachers all around, what with Snape going fair and all." Harry cocked his head lightly in agreement, but Hermione was frowning.

"What's wrong now?" Harry asked, tensing. His days in Snape's quarters flew by in his mind's eye at top speed as he tried to find anything particularly disconcerting there, but nothing came to mind.

"Nothing is wrong, Harry, just…odd. Maybe a little concerning," Hermione ventured. She sat back with another sigh, sucking in her lips a second before continuing. "It just logically doesn't make sense," she explained. "Snape is no longer a spy and he betrayed Voldemort. Slytherins will feel like it was a betrayal against them from their own Head of House. Given the home lives of most of those Slytherins, who are already probably expected to join the Death Eater ranks when they leave Hogwarts, that will feel like they've either been abandoned to the wolves, or, at the very least, like they've been led on."

"Hence the verbal attack on him during the Welcome Feast," Harry concluded.

"Exactly. I don't think Snape should be ignoring his student's bad behavior," Hermione continued, "because they'll try to walk all over him. Especially if word about his…treatment at Voldemort's hands is being spoken of in humiliating terms. He has to be working now to earn back their respect. But he really needs to make sure to not alienate them at the same time."

"But, that's nuts," Ron commented, face twisted into a contemplative frown. "On one hand, try to be friends with the sons of the guys who beat you up, and on the other, be just as prattish to them in class as he is to everyone else? There's no way that'll work. It'll be a miracle if they don't outright try and curse him this year."

Hermione grimaced.

"Maybe he doesn't care," Harry said softly, drawing Hermione and Ron's gazes. "Maybe, now his position of spy is over, maybe he's just stopped caring about reaching out at all. Maybe…" he hesitated, "Maybe he doesn't care if they curse him, or hate him. Maybe he's given up trying with them. Maybe he doesn't care about the war anymore, now his job's done." Maybe, he doesn't particularly care about his own safety, either, Harry added silently, thinking about how angry Snape had been both times Harry had described stepping in front of the Killing Curse for him. Silence fell for a long moment after this statement, broken only by the ever-crackling fire, and the moaning wind from outside the tower window.

"If Snape doesn't care about the war anymore, Harry, because he doesn't have a role to play anymore in it," Hermione said slowly, "then why did he help you? It sounds like he went out of his way to talk to you, to talk to Dumbledore for you, to help you sleep. Why would he do that if he was determined not to care anymore about this war's outcome?"

"I don't know," Harry answered honestly. He was looking at the floor. "I honestly have no clue. I just took a chance with him when I was at the end of my rope and, miraculously, he didn't kick me out on my arse." Harry shrugged. "I don't understand anything about Severus Snape, really."

Hermione smiled sympathetically and settled back on the couch. Ron hesitated only an instant before he slipped an arm around her shoulders, which she accepted without protest. Harry raised an eyebrow and found himself automatically wondering how Ginny's first day had been.

They talked for a few minutes more and decided among themselves to just watch Snape, the other Slytherins, and Longmire, for that matter, to see how things played out. Then they spoke about some of their other classes, the stresses of preparing for their NEWT examinations, and the excessive workload. Hermione had already created for herself a schedule of what subjects to work on during their free periods and offered to make one for Harry and Ron to follow as well. They grudgingly agreed but insisted that she keep some room set aside for Quidditch practices – Harry had been informed by Professor McGonagall during lunch that day that he had been officially unbanned from the team, news which had made Harry nearly dizzy with relief and filled him with incomprehensible joy. They all then went up to bed, feeling the strain of the long day, and the heavy blanket of school-related stress wrapped itself familiarly around each of their shoulders.

As Harry settled under the covers and extinguished the light. He let his mind wander a bit, reminding himself of things he had to do the following day, and then, just as he was feeling properly sleepy, began occluding his mind. The feeling he chose initially to focus on was the same he'd used last time, Snape's hand on his shoulder. But their conversation about Snape from earlier had disturbed him, and the peaceful feelings the touch generated had grown a bit foggy over the course of time. He searched his head for a new memory, one that gripped his heart strings firmly enough to sink blissfully into. Hermione's hug drifted unconsciously to his mind. The feeling of being loved and most of all, not alone, filled him up. He smiled, sank into the feeling, grounded himself into the memory, and lay there until darkness took him.

-SSS-

Author's notes:

* I know Cannon Harry didn't technically get an O on his Potion OWL, so he shouldn't have been allowed in Snape's class, but I've decided to grant him that 'O' for this fic anyway, as I prefer Snape as a Potions Master. So, please forgive the creative license.

Also, thanks, gracias, and grazie for all the reviews and follows! They made my heart all warm and fuzzy.