Chapter Sixty

"Hey."

Malachi looked up sharply, at the unexpected voice – Daphne – having not expecting to be seen or addressed by anyone. Least of all one of his own housemates.

"What are you doing hiding way back here?"

"I'm not hiding."

Daphne looked sceptical, for it was obvious Malachi was, what with the way he was sitting on the floor between bookcases in one of the darkest, most underused areas of the library.

It had been like this all week, ever since he'd come back. No longer able to stand the sneering and jeering of the Slytherins, nor the smiling looks of pity from the other students – from all the Houses – and with Harry spending every free moment at St Mungo's with his mum, he had sought refuge the only place he knew where he'd find it.

Daphne sat down opposite him, leaning back against the bookcase behind her, and just looked at him, contemplatively.

Malachi drew his knees up closer to his chest under her inspection: "What?"

"Did you really care about her? That muggle?"

Malachi hesitated.

He didn't want to talk about Emma.

And he didn't want to hear any more opinions on it from anyone else at Hogwarts.

But he couldn't deny it.

No.

So, Malachi answered, truthfully. If Daphne – or anyone she told – had anything to say about it, then fine. He'd deal with it. It was the least he could do for her; for Emma.

He would never pretend he didn't care.

"Yeah."

Daphne glanced down, seeming to think about it for a second, and then she met his eyes; "I don't think it's right for any of them to be killed; the muggles."

Malachi nodded, slowly; "Okay."

"And I don't want You Know Who to win."

"I know that."

Daphne nodded as well, at his admittance, and then she got a smile and spoke more assuredly; "Good. Just so you do."

She reached into her bag, pulling out a magazine from inside, and Malachi lowered his knees to glance down at the book about the Statute – about muggle and wizard relationships – that he'd been reading before she arrived.

"Malachi."

"Yeah?"

He looked up and Daphne was looking at him, with sympathy in her expression.

"I'm sorry. For what happened to her."

Malachi pursed his lips together, looking down, not expecting to hear that from anyone here. No one other than Harry.

And then Daphne reached up, a hand on his ankle, and gave it a little squeeze that tickled and made him jump. She looked surprised – obviously she'd meant it as comfort – and then she chuckled.

Malachi smiled. Surprised but glad that he'd at least kept one of his Slytherin friends, and he gave her ankle a squeeze back, making her laugh more and give him a kick, before he relaxed back against the bookcase behind him and carried on with his book.

"Screw that!"

"Jules!"

They both burst into laughter, as Lily finished up relaying the details of it all. Everything that Julia hadn't already managed to put together herself, which, was, surprisingly, a lot. And Lily was grateful for it, even if she shouldn't be, that she finally had someone to talk to about it all that wasn't so emotionally invested in the whole thing, themselves.

"You think that's crazy?" Lily raised an eyebrow, still smiling.

"Mhm. Mhm. Yeah," Julia nodded, closing her eyes and shaking her head; "Yeah, it's crazy, Honey."

She lifted the chart she had been about to fill in on her arrival, beginning to scribble across it.

"Well, what would you do then, hm?"

"I'd say 'fuck you world, this is my man'."

"Oh, because that's exactly what you've been doing!" Lily laughed, calling bullshit.

"All or nothing," Julia was still smiling, as she carried on writing, and then she dropped the chart to her lap, where she was sitting on the side of Lily's bed, adding more seriously; "Aw, Honey. I had no idea you've been going through all this. I made all those jokes! I'm sorry, Sweetie."

"Don't be," Lily dismissed it; "It was better you didn't know."

"I had no idea you could be so sly," Julia grinned, eyes twinkling – clearly delighted by the scandal – and she went on; "A secret lover. Hot, steamy rendezvous in the night. Now, Black would have blown his top."

"So, he did."

"Wait, he knew? How did I miss that?"

"You didn't."

"That's why he moved out?" Julia scoffed, rolling her eyes and lifting the chart back up, before she carried on writing; "Berk."

Lily snickered; "I presume you don't refer to him as such around Regulus?"

"No," Julia got a smile, with obvious affection at the mention, while she was still writing, but she stopped and looked at Lily when she said, in unhidden disbelief; "Can you believe those two were brothers?"

"Sometimes," Lily said with a nod, voice softening with fondness for the both of them.

"It blows my mind they were even related," Julia said, turning her attention back to the chart.

Lily laughed; "Well, that's because you're blindly in love with him, Jules."

Julia's playful expression dimmed slightly, her eyes narrowing over the words she was writing.

She didn't bite.

Instead, she finished up her sentence and met Lily's eyes, changing the subject; "By the way, Remus has been hanging around your door all week. Did something happen between the two of you?"

Oh.

"You could say that."

"Or…?"

"Let's just say you're not the only one who thinks what Severus and I have been doing is crazy."

"Well, it's none of Remus' business even if it is," Julia said, immediately taking her side.

"We've kind of made it his business," Lily pointed out, much as she'd like to have Julia's backing on the whole thing.

"Daddy Remus" Julia said, thoughtfully, before she shook her head; "I never believed it."

"Knew all along, did you?"

"Well, I never thought that, obviously. I thought an unable to resist, one night romp in his office or something, before you got all squicked out about your marriage again. But I knew you were hot from him," Julia's eyes widened, as she shook her head; "Boy did I know it. Here, give me your wrist."

Lily shifted, handing over her arm, and Julia held her wrist in her fingers.

"Oh, your heart rate's still elevated," Julia frowned, after a minute, lifting the chart back up to write that down, and she got a little smirk as she penned it; "Thinking about something...dirty?"

Lily burst out laughing, slapping Julia on the thigh, and Julia laughed along with her, before she went on.

"I'll put down something for that," she flipped the parchments closed and got to her feet; "If we can't get that sorted, it's gonna delay your discharge a bit, Honey."

"Oh! If only my Healer were – I don't know – my best friend; maybe then she'd cut me some slack and sign me out of this place."

"It's because I care that I'm keeping you here," Julia said, with a smile and a raised eyebrow; "You need twenty-four-hour attention – unless you want to ask Professor Sexy to move back in and take you home? – Nope. Didn't think so," she hung the board on the wall, as both of them attempted to get their chuckles under control; "Alright, my break's up and your chart's all done. I've got rounds but I'll check back in before I head home later. You good?"

"Yeah," Lily nodded, giving her a smile, glad of her presence and her welcome perspective, that this actually wasn't the end of the world and all things good sense; "Thanks, Jules."

Julia waved a hand, before squeezing her shoulder and making her way to the door.

"Just light up if you need anything," she said, as she pulled open the door, before she added over her shoulder; "And if I happen to see Remus brooding in the hallways again, do you want me to tell him to get his backside in here?"

"Yeah," Lily smiled, giving a nod; "Yeah, do."

Julia shot her another smile, before pulling the door shut behind her as she left the room.

Harry was getting better.

Harry were getting good.

He fended off Snape's attempts at breaking through the barriers into his mind – not with ease, that would obviously be exaggerating – but he did not have to exert the same amount of energy as he used to. Definitely not like he did in the beginning, anyway. And he could tell that Snape was impressed, as the lesson went on.

It was the first one he'd had in over week, after spending the full seven days following his mum's waking up at her bedside – when he wasn't at class – assuring Snape that he would work on the occlumency independently, before bed, and Snape had agreed – more quickly than Harry would have expected – and piled on a ton of mind exercises to do on top of his own practice.

Harry did as he was asked.

And, apparently, that paid off.

Harry had to fight to keep from smirking or grinning or celebrating when he successfully managed to keep Snape out, three attempts in a row. Being met with only the safe, untampered with memories that Harry allowed out of 'the box' – Snape had told him to compartmentalise his thoughts, his memories, which was far easier said than done – and there were just flashes of school and Malachi and Grace and their home life, that weren't any danger, to be seen.

Nothing Voldemort could use against him. Nothing that he didn't already know.

"Prepare yourself," Snape said, before the next round; "I am actually going to try, in this next attempt."

Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes and grinning; "Like you weren't trying before. You just don't want to admit I beat you."

"This is not a game, Mr. Potter."

"I never said it was. But I still won," Harry teased, grin widening.

Snape wasn't smiling.

"Ready now?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, feeling cocky, and reigned in his emotions – his delight – and hoped, prayed, he would succeed in the next attempt.

Snape wasn't kidding.

Maybe he was going easier on him before. All those times before. Because, this time, he got in quickly and it was almost like he was looking for the box – the memories that Harry had locked up tight – and, within a few seconds, there was Grace.

And him.

And they were on the beach in Crail – Malachi and Emma kissing on the rocks – and he was dancing, cheering his best friend on, and Grace was holding the fishing rod and giggling at her brother's antics and –

Harry forced Snape out.

He got him out, but it was too late to avoid the consequences of what he'd actually seen.

Harry met his eyes, uneasily.

But Snape didn't look angry.

In fact, he didn't even look surprised. If anything he looked…vindicated. As if he'd known all along.

But that expression of vindication did not last and it was quickly – very quickly – replaced by one of disappointment. A disappointment in Harry that he was struggling – more than he ever had before – to deal with.

"You let down your guard. So, concludes the lesson."

Snape turned away, walking in a slow pace back in the direction of the desk.

Harry felt that knot in his stomach form – infuriatingly, so – when he realised Snape was quite willing to just let him bask in that knowledge that he had disappointed him. Had somehow let him down. Not even bothering to scold him for it.

And, then, he was outraged.

"You can't do that."

Snape stopped in his steps. But he didn't turn, as Harry went on, angrily.

"You can't use these sessions to just look inside my head and find stuff. You're supposed to be teaching me. It's an abuse of trust."

Harry heard Snape draw in a breath, his back still to him, before he straightened up – even more so that he already was – and he spoke, softly; "An abuse of trust."

Snape turned, suddenly, to face him – his robes billowing at his sides as he did – and he crossed his arms, looking at Harry with an alarming calm.

"Mr. Potter, do you remember what you said to me the night I told you I had arranged for you and your sister to be entrusted to Mr. Black's care for the weekend?"

Harry just looked at him.

He knew whatever he said, he'd just be walking into a trap.

But Snape didn't seem to want an answer, even if there was a brief pause – a silence – before he went on.

"You said, and I quote you, that you could take care of Grace."

The accusation behind the statement stung.

Harry swallowed, glowering at him; "Well, it's not like you trusted me to do that, anyway. You still sent us."

"Indeed. I grossly miscalculated the risk, assuming that less damage could be done while at the Blacks than would be had the two of you been left, here, without an adult present whom you felt comfortable to approach, should you need to, in mine and Professor Lupin's absence."

Harry lowered his eyes, shifting on the spot, at the nod to what had happened at New Year, when he had been left alone, without either of them to turn to.

"But you have … a knack for finding danger, wherever you happen to be, Mr. Potter."

"We just went out. Nothing happened. We were fine. Mr. Black takes us out all the time."

"Did he not inform you that the weekend was to be spent entirely indoors?"

"Well. Yeah, but –"

"But?"

Harry said no more. Still not entirely sure the trap had snapped upon him, yet.

"Why do you think Mr. Black instated that rule, when he has been so accommodating in allow you to leave the premises in the past?"

Harry lowered his eyes.

"Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that your sister has spent the past five months under the care of Remus Lupin with the sole – very significant purpose – of directing away the Dark Lord's very real suspicion that she is the daughter of Regulus Black."

Harry drew in a breath, not meeting Snape's eyes, instead opting to look at the floorboards as he went on.

"A suspicion which arose as a direct consequence from another such indiscretion of yours – not unsimilar, in fact, to this one. And what do you think would have happened if, after all these months, your sister was spotted at the home of Regulus Black for the Easter holidays?"

Harry shook his head, meeting his eyes, suddenly furious that Snape would bring up what had happened at the Foundation last Easter, and accuse him of knowingly putting Grace in danger. That had been an accident. He wasn't to know what would happen.

He would never.

He would never.

"Well she wasn't! We were fine –"

Snape held up a hand, silencing him.

"Did you happen to use magic while you were outside of the protection of the Fidelius, during your trip to the seaside?"

"No," Harry glowered at him; "Of course not."

"Of course not. Why not?"

"Because I'm underage. It's against the law."

"And is Malachi Black aware of this law?"

"Yeah, obviously."

"And your sister?"

Harry hesitated.

Remembered the rocks.

Snape was looking at him closely.

Harry glowered right back, stubbornly, and straightened up.

"What does it matter if Grace used magic? She does it all the time. We didn't get caught."

"No?"

"No. It was weeks ago; we'd have heard by now. No one from the Ministry came."

Snape kept his eyes on him.

"Who did come, Mr. Potter?"

Harry stared back at him.

Felt his stomach drop.

No.

No.

He shook his head.

Voldemort had found Malachi and his dad because of them. Because they'd - he'd – taken Grace out of the house.

To go fishing.

And Malachi and Mr. Black had almost died.

Again.

And Emma …

Harry looked up at Snape, sharply; "Have you told Malachi?"

"No."

"Are…" Harry swallowed; "Are you going to?"

"No," Snape said, eyes averting slightly, before he added; "Malachi has more than paid the price for his actions. But his father might."

Harry shook his head, pressing a hand to his forehead, as the weight of this – another – mistake became apparent to him.

Harry hadn't wanted to go to the Blacks in the first place. He didn't think Malachi would even want him there. Not after he'd almost gotten his dad killed at New Year.

But Snape had made them and so, he'd gone, and he'd almost got Mr. Black killed. Again. And Malachi, too.

And Emma was dead. And Malachi was going through hell.

Somehow, he'd still managed to screw up.

Harry dropped his hand and said, lashing back; "I knew you shouldn't have sent us there! I knew it! I said we'd be just fine here. You're the one that sent us."

Snape closed his eyes.

And when he opened them the disappointment was back; "What's done is done."

The two of them eyed one another.

Harry tried to blame Snape but, obviously, it wasn't Snape's fault. Snape had… trusted him.

Harry realised it with the same sort of alarm as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over him.

Snape stepped closer, before adding quietly, but no less decisively; "And it will never happen again." He nodded in the direction of the door; "Goodnight, Mr. Potter."

Harry was glad of the dismissal.

Unable to get out of the office fast enough.

There was a knock at the door.

Even the slowness of the way it opened belied the uncertainty of the person on the other side of it, so that Lily knew who it was before Remus' head had even popped around it.

Remus gave her a nod, not coming in; "Hey."

"Hey."

"Is this a bad time?"

Lily raised her eyebrows; "Only if you count interrupting my staring into space?"

Remus smiled, looking down as he finally stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

He made his way further into the room, but still stopped at a far enough distance away than could be considered normal – or comfortable – and he didn't quite meet her eyes when he finally spoke.

"How are you doing? Julia said things were looking good."

"Oh, yeah. They are. Don't let the bed fool you."

Remus nodded.

And continued to just stand there, in the middle of the room, and the awkwardness – that had never been them – began to increase more and more with each second they stayed silent.

"Remus, sit. Please," Lily finally said, shaking her head; "You're making me uncomfortable."

"Believe me, you're not the only person who's uncomfortable."

"This isn't us. Whatever you came here to say, just say it."

"I don't know what I came here to say. I just wanted to see that you're alright."

Lily relaxed, slightly, softening at the statement. And she gave him a small smile.

"I'm alright, Remus."

Remus smiled.

"What about us?" Lily asked; "Are we?"

"We're…yeah. Of course."

Because that sounded convincing.

"You're just saying that because you thought I was going to die."

"I'm not going to lie, it changed things a bit," Remus admitted, shifting where he stood; "Would you rather we still hated one another?"

"I've never hated you, Remus. And you've never hated me."

"No. But we were pretty mad at each other."

"Yes, we were."

Remus glanced around the room, before he met her eyes, finally; "And I'm still a bit mad at you. If we're speaking honestly about it."

"Well, I'm not mad at you," Lily countered – obviously the time in a coma had put all of that anger to rest – and went on; "Not anymore. I blamed you for something that I knew was never your fault and I'm sorry."

"Don't."

"Don't want?" Lily frowned.

"Don't lie there – newly awake from what I thought was your death bed – and say that you're sorry. That's playing dirty."

Lily chuckled a little. But she asked, sincerely; "So. You don't want to forgive me?"

"Of course, I want to forgive you," Remus sighed, and then he shook his head with a shrug; "Of course, I forgive you."

"And I forgive you."

"For what?"

"For being a complete jackass, that's what."

Remus rolled his eyes.

"You said that I don't care about my son."

"I never said that," Remus denied it; "I know that's not true."

They met one another's eyes then, sharing a smile. A forgiveness, seeming, to come over them both. And the awkwardness faded away, with it.

"Remus, I want you to know how grateful I am for what you've been doing for Grace. I know I didn't deserve it. After what happened."

Remus shook his head with a frown.

"I don't care about that, Lily. I'd never just stand back and let her suffer to make a point."

"I know that."

"So, don't thank me. I didn't do anything more than what you would have expected me to do."

"I expected a lot of you," Lily admitted, feeling ashamed of it, now; "I took you for granted."

"Ah."

Remus nodded, looking around the room. When he noticed Lily staring at him he raised an eyebrow, getting a grin.

"Oh. Sorry. Were you expecting me to refute that?"

"You know, you're in a very sassy mood, Remus," Lily said, grinning and leaning back on the pillows; "I think someone's put a smile on your face."

Remus looked back at her, seriously. And then he reddened, averting his eyes.

"Harry told you."

"Told me what?" Lily's smile widened, delighted she'd guessed it right.

"It's nothing. We're nothing."

"Oh. Oh, that's believable, "Lily laughed; "Nymphadora Tonks, is it?"

"It's not like that," Remus waved a hand, dismissively; "She's…well, she's young and she's whole. I'm old and a werewolf and, as far as she thinks, a father to a six-year-old girl who I refused to claim as my own. She's not interested."

"Oh yeah. You keep telling yourself that, Remus."

Remus was still red, obviously embarrassed at being caught out. Even if Harry had only made the odd few slips, it was enough, more than enough, for Lily to put the dots together and realise what was going on.

Remus drew in a breath, returning to their previous matter of concern; "I'm glad you're okay, Lily."

"I'm glad you're okay, too," Lily said, remembering that night; "I thought you were dead. I saw you go down."

"A bump."

Lily's lips twitched; "You were unconscious."

"I was saving my strength."

She laughed and so did he and she motioned the side of the bed, next to her, again. This time, he sat down, smiling at her, warmly.

"Tell me about my daughter," Lily said, fondly; "What did I miss?"

Remus drew in a breath, smiling fondly in turn, and proceeded to tell her just all that she had missed of her little girl's life for the past five months.

Malachi sat at the very end of the Slytherin table, among the first years.

Even they seemed to think he didn't belong there, those around him either opting to ignore his presence entirely or glower at him as if his very existence caused them some great offence.

Other than Daphne, the only other Slytherin who didn't glower or blank him was Draco. But Draco was only kind when they passed one another, by accident – and only if each of them were alone – and his cousin seemed to be almost removed from the Slytherin camaraderie all together these days, tending to just sit alone and look as miserable as Malachi felt.

Dumbledore finished up what he was saying. Something about the new means of assessment in various subjects. The announcement of the career fair - which was really just the Auror and Healer recruitment drive of the Ministry, as part of the war effort - which would be taking place the following month.

Malachi could have just missed this assembly and missed nothing.

He stayed still, upon the conclusion of the assembly, when many of the students remained in their seats opting to just wait there for lunch. Waited until the best moment to slip out, unnoticed.

"Malachi!"

He almost jumped out of his skin, when Harry appeared at his side, crouching down at the end of the table beside him; "Alright? I've hardly seen you the last couple of weeks."

"Yeah. I've been under my rock, so they call it," Malachi muttered, ignoring the intensifying glowers from the first years and – now – the second years, upon noticing he was openly fraternising with the 'enemy'.

"Well, come on. Assembly's over. I wanted to talk to you," Harry got to his feet, cocking his head, expectantly, and started to head out.

Malachi got up, hauling up his bag and making to follow Harry, but as he did, he was hit with a tripping hex and he hit the ground, hard, on his knees as his schoolbag fell; contents scattering across the ground.

Nearby chatter stopped, as those at the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables quickly turned to look.

"Watch your step, Muggle-Banger."

It was Blaise's voice.

Zabini, now, that Malachi had quickly lost his favour.

Daphne, who was sitting a few seats down with Pansy and Tracey, sprung to her feet; "What are you doing, Blaise?"

Harry reached down, pulling Malachi back to his feet, as he scowled in Zabini's direction.

"Giving the blood traitor what's for. Should of known he was just infiltrating."

"He's one of us," Daphne said with certainty.

"He lies with muggles and mudbloods. He's no Slytherin."

"I don't lie with anyone," Malachi blushed, furiously, gripping his wand tight.

"Hell, that's even worse," one of the sixth-year boys laughed, piping up, before saying to the Slytherin boy opposite; "Only thing they're good for is killing or screwing, right, Avery?"

Malachi glowered, feeling his embarrassment quickly turn to anger, and he stepped towards him – as if he actually stood a chance against a sixth year – and made to lift his wand.

Harry grabbed his wrist, shooting him an – are you crazy? – look, and shook his head.

"That's disgusting, Burke," Daphne said, eyeing the older boy with said disgust, before turning her wrath back on Zabini; "Slytherins stand together. That's the first rule, above all the others. So, either way that makes you lesser, Zabini, certainly no more of a Slytherin than anyone at this table. We don't turn on our own."

Draco – sitting a few seats down – met Malachi's eyes, then, giving him a small smile, even if he stayed quiet.

But Zabini got to his feet, unmoved and humiliated at being called out for his lack of Slytherin loyalty; "You need me to teach you a lesson in being a Slytherin, Greengrass -"

Zabini was, suddenly, on his back on the floor. The watching Ravenclaws erupted into laughter; some of the Slytherins too.

"Owned by a girl," Daphne raised her eyebrow, wand drawn, as she crossed her arms across her chest and smirked; "Wanna threaten me again, Zabini?"

"Miss Greengrass!" Professor McGonagall's voice sounded from behind Malachi, before she swept into view at his side, drawing the attention of those in the Great Hall who hadn't already been looking; "That's twenty points from Slytherin, for that display. Follow me, if you will."

She took Daphne by the arm, leading her from the Hall, past all the amused Ravenclaws and Malachi closed his eyes as he felt his face burn.

Malachi was mortified. Utterly mortified. And he wanted to vanish into thin air, as he glowered after Daphne as she was taken away and he glanced at Harry, to share in his irritation.

Harry was watching after Daphne as if she'd just done something truly amazing.

Malachi rolled his eyes just as Luna appeared as if from nowhere, handing him back his repacked schoolbag and giving him a smile.

He mumbled a 'thanks' and hurried from the room, Harry on his heels this time.