Chapter Seventy-Eight

"Alright, Black."

"Great article."

"Hey, Black."

"One World!"

Malachi gave small, shy smiles to the people who greeted him – it still felt a little forced, even if he was starting to get used to the attention, by now, and he wondered, again, how his dad did it with such ease – as he made his way into his first period defence class.

He was almost late, having been basking in delight at his dad's most recent proud letter, accompanied by another moving picture, with a new fifth article mounted alongside his previous four he'd written, that the Foundation were now distributing both in the lobby and sending out to any and all contacts, suppliers and beneficiaries.

Malachi hurried into the classroom, dropping down his bag, and quickly climbed up onto his stool – shooting Professor Lupin a sheepish smile – but the lesson hadn't started yet.

In fact, it seemed as if there was something holding it up, Professor Lupin just giving him a warm smile in turn from where he stood at the front of the classroom, before turning his eyes to whatever notes he was making with a frown.

"I'm really glad you've started writing again, Malachi," Luna's voice said at his side, drawing Malachi's attention to her.

Malachi gave another little smile –a real one this time, coming easily – and he shrugged; "Thanks. It's not really a big deal. My dad's sorting out the publishing and everything for me."

"It was very clever, going to him," Luna said, looking thoughtful, "The Aurelius Foundation, it is a very well-connected organisation. You'll reach far more people than you would have done, through the Quibbler."

"Oh," Malachi looked a bit sheepish at that, wondering if she was offended; "It wasn't…I mean, I didn't go to my dad. He just found out. He does stuff like this, sometimes. Big gestures. He can be a real pain. He likes winding me up."

"You think he was trying to wind you up?"

Malachi got a smile, at that, shaking his head.

"No. Not this time."

"Hey, Malachi," a girl's voice to his side drew his attention.

It was one of the Ravenclaws – Irena Maloney, a muggleborn – who gave him a smile, a little bit shy, and she averted her eyes, before speaking.

"I – um – I've been reading your articles," Maloney said, getting a more confident smile; "I really loved them, the things you've been saying. It'd make such a difference to my mum and dad, if more people thought the way you do about muggles."

Malachi felt himself blush, under the unexpectedly sincere praise, as she went on.

"I thought – maybe – you might wanna talk about it with me? Tomorrow night, at the dance? If you're not going with anyone."

Malachi just looked at her for a second; flattered more than annoyed this time.

She was pretty – Maloney – definitely one of the girls the boys in the year would wink at each another about. Malachi was surprised, actually, that she wasn't already going with someone.

He shook his head.

"Oh, um. Sorry. I… I have someone already."

Maloney looked disappointed, eyes lowering, before she gave him a smile and a shrug.

"Well. Maybe next time, then."

She headed back to her desk. Her visible disappointment actually made him feel bad, guilty that he might have hurt her feelings and, for a second, Malachi almost called her back to say yes.

He didn't really have someone.

Not yet, anyway.

But.

He wanted to go with Luna.

Malachi frowned at the odd thought when it came to him, his eyes going to the girl at his side.

Luna wasn't even looking at him – totally unfazed by the fact someone had just asked him out right in front of her – and was humming as she doodled little pictures in the corner of her notebook.

Since when had he wanted to go with Luna?

He was only planning on asking her to keep other girls away.

"You going with someone?" Malachi asked, abruptly – without any elegance whatsoever – when he realised that, yes, the dance was tomorrow – as Maloney had said – and he hadn't even askedLuna yet, if she wanted to go.

He'd just assumed she would be free.

Malachi realised, then, that was a pretty rude thing to think.

Luna shook her head, eyes still on her doodles.

"No. But I'm not really expecting to. I've never gone to a dance with anyone before. I'm not sure if it's something I would really like."

So, she obviously had been listening, then, to Maloney asking him out.

She just didn't care.

Malachi shook off the thought.

"You don't like dancing?"

"I don't mind it. But I do like talking and reading more."

Malachi got a little smile.

"Me too."

Luna met his eyes, then, in a lingering stare before giving him a smile in turn. But she turned her attention back to her notebook, saying nothing.

Malachi shifted, starting to feel a bit nervous.

He didn't really know why.

He didn't care if she said no.

"You wanna go?" Malachi asked, as nonchalantly as possible; "With me?"

Luna lifted her eyes from her doodling, eyes meeting his, without any hint of surprise or excitement or, well, anything other than her usual peculiar stare.

Malachi felt another surge of stupid nerves, as he quickly went on, averting his eyes and suddenly feeling the need to play down the invitation, just in case she was about to say no.

"We could bring books or something and not dance, if you didn't want to,and have a laugh at everyone else's terrible moves."

Luna got a serene smile, eyes going to the side.

"Well. It does sound a bit better than staying in the dorm room."

"Oh," Malachi frowned, his mouth weirdly dry; "Did you not want to go at all? It's fine –" he shook his head.

"No. I'd like to go with you, Malachi," Luna said, getting a proper smile then; "I think we might even have fun."

Malachi met her eyes, getting a small, shy smile of his own.

"Yeah," he nodded, strangely pleased by her acceptance, and he said more assuredly; "Yeah. I do, too."

Professor Lupin cleared his throat, then, at the front of the class, drawing everyone's attention, and Malachi noticed he still didn't look all that comfortable with whatever he had written in front of him.

"Alright, everyone," Professor Lupin said, raising his eyebrows; "Necromancy. What do we know about it?"

No one in the room breathed a word, every sitting silently, still as stone, as the next topic of study was announced.

"Well, look at you, top of the ladder now!" Julia beamed at Lily, from where she sat next to her on the sofa; "You've got the lead on this one, right?"

"Not entirely, Heart's the coordinator of the project – I may have proposed it but apparently they're not quite ready to unleash me yet," Lily grinned, taking a sip from her wine glass; "Could do with your thoughts, though, if you're up to it. Wouldn't want you getting rusty during this 'sabbatical' of yours."

Julia chuckled, reaching for the parchments to have a look; "Talk me through it, then, Sweetie."

"Which one you got?"

"A Story of Souls…" Julia skimmed it, with narrowed eyes; "Something about…souls becoming so damaged, they accidentally end up…splitting. Tethering them to –" Julia's eyebrows lifted; "Tethering them to a fate worse than death; preventing a person from moving on to the afterlife."

Julia dropped the parchments she held back onto the table; "Wow. I can see why you need the wine."

Lily laughed.

"That's the worst-case scenario."

"Thank Merlin for small mercies. Is that something you've actually come across?"

"Well, it's all whispers, really –" Lily said, lifting and looking through some other parchments; " – it's not as if anyone has ever actually come back to tell the tale from that state, after all."

"Huh. No one?"

Lily met her eyes.

Julia lifted her eyebrows – obviously referring to Voldemort – and Lily gave a wry smile.

"Unfortunately, that particular case is not available for comment."

"So, how does it happen?" Julia asked, lifting the parchment back up; "The split."

"Murder, usually," Lily told her, drawing Julia's eyes back to hers; "Though whether or not anything else – significant trauma, perhaps – is enough to do so is something we're looking at."

"So the soul splits with murder –" Julia leaned back, eyes still on the article; " – what happens to the parts that split?"

Lily hesitated – horcruxes immediately coming to mind, but she knew Regulus hadn't told Julia any of that – so she focused on the other side of it, saying; "That's what we're looking in to."

"Well," Julia handed the parchments back over; "I'm afraid this is far beyond my areas of expertise, Lil'."

Lily grinned, taking them back and tossing them onto the table; "Well, they needn't be. It's all at your fingertips – the Research Department – should you want it. You are, after all, Foundation Royalty."

Julia scoffed, rolling her eyes; "No, thanks. Researching, is just not my thing –" Julia gave her a nudge; " – Practicing, though - gotta admit. I miss it,"

She glanced away as she went on.

"I see it passing by every day in the papers and … Well. I know me being there would be in no way helpful now, but …"

"Well, hey, next time anyone I know is in need of a healer –" Lily said, finishing off her drink with a smile, before pointing her finger in Julia's direction, " – I'm coming to you, Jules."

Lily lifted the bottle of wine, topping up her own empty glass, and began to lean in the direction of Julia's.

"Do you – oh, you haven't touched your wine."

Julia waved a hand, dismissively; "You know me, prefer the red."

"Oh, well, I've got a few in the basement –" Lily made to get up, but Julia lifted a hand, declining.

"Oh, it's fine, Honey –" Julia said, with a shake of her head; " – it's getting a bit late, now."

Lily hesitated, glancing at the timepiece – which read just after seven – and got a frown, before she looked quickly back in Julia's direction.

Julia met her eyes, holding her look for only a second, before a smile played on her lips and she averted her gaze.

"Oh my gosh!" Lily squealed.

"Aw –"

Lily pounced on her, throwing her arms around her best friend, with a delighted laugh while Julia laughed, rolling her eyes, seeming to blush, even, under Lily's glee.

"Oh my gosh!" Lily said again, drawing back, with her arms still around her, her eyes going to Julia's abdomen; "You're –"

"Yup," Julia nodded, rolling her eyes, but a smile still played on her lips; "We had a … moment where neither of us were particularly careful and apparently that's all it takes. Heed the pamphlets, kids."

Lily burst into giggles, pressing both hands upon Julia's stomach, with a wide smile; "Aw, that's amazing, Sweetie. Oh, congratulations!" she flung her arms back around her, hugging her tight, while Julia chuckled, hugging her back.

"How's Regulus taking it?" Lily asked, as she drew back.

Julia raised her eyebrows.

"Well. I haven't told him yet."

Lily made a face; "Ah."

"Yeah," Julia nodded, before her smile turned somewhat wry; "Yeah, but I don't have to be a seer to know that the answer to that question is probably going to be 'not well'."

"Is that why you haven't told him?" Lily asked, with a little frown, squeezing her arm.

Julia shook her head.

"No. He's been working late – really late – all week – for a few weeks, actually – and, no joke, Lil', I have been zonked. I wasn't kidding when I said it's getting late. I've been crashing out on the couch every night by nine."

"You don't have to tell me," Lily grinned, remembering with not-quite fondness those exhausting, early days of pregnancy, before going on; "That's not very newlywed-like, to be spending all that time in the office."

Julia chuckled, giving a shrug.

"Well, the evidence speaks for itself, Lil', it certainly hasn't been stopping us."

She and Lily laughed, while Lily pressed a hand back to Julia's stomach, unable to stop smiling.

"Well, I am so happy for you, Honey. For both of you. And Regulus – you know. We've seen him with Malachi. And he is amazing with Grace."

Julia got a fond smile.

"Yeah. I know he'd be amazing, Honey. I'm not the one that needs to be convinced."

"You're nervous," Lily said, her smile turning sympathetic, when she noticed.

Julia gave a little shrug.

"We've been in a good place. It's … ashame to rock the boat, is all."

"Well, this 'll definitely do that, I remember it well," Lily chuckled; "You think he'll take it that badly?"

"I dunno," Julia drew her legs up underneath her on the couch, leaning her head in her hand; "I know – in our ideal world – he wants more kids. But this is … hardly ideal."

"We make the best of what we're given, Jules," Lily said, reaching out to squeeze Julia's arm, before her eyes glanced upwards to the ceiling of the room where her daughter slept; "I couldn't imagine my life without my kids. I know things would be frightfully more awful without either of them."

Julia gave her a smile.

Lily returned it – nodding, sympathetically – before her own widened into a grin – glee coming over her once more – and she squealed again, throwing her arms back around Julia as they laughed.

"You looking forward to tomorrow night?" Harry asked.

Daphne got a grin, their hands swinging between them as they made their way back down from the Astronomy Tower, before shooting him a look.

"Our first official date? Yeah. What a shocker –" they shared a smile, before she lifted her shoulders, her smile turning impish; "If only to see the looks on everyone's faces when I show up with Harry Potter on my arm."

"Hope that's not the only reason you're happy going with me, Greengrass," Harry chuckled, tugging her to walk closer to him when they reached the bottom of the stairs, their sides bumping as they walked along, feeling far braver now than he had in the beginning; "Thought, maybe, you liked me."

He felt daft now for ever being shy around her.

Daphne grinned, stopping, and he did too, and then she reached up, her hands on the side of his neck as she kissed him right there in the entrance hall, where anyone could see them.

Harry found he wished someone would.

He'd happily shout it from the rooftops; that he and Daphne were…well. Were they boyfriend and girlfriend?

Surely, they must be.

Daphne kept her face close to him, when she drew back from their kiss, and when she did Harry realised he'd gotten his wish, as the second and third years had begun spilling out from their Duel Club session.

Eyes were upon them and whispers exchanged – Harry wondered if they even knew who they were, they were so much younger – but he heard his name amongst the whispers along with 'Tori's sister', and he caught the way Daphne's eyes lowered, hearing it too.

"You alright?" Harry asked, quickly picking up on Daphne's change in mood.

Daphne lifted her eyes to his, before she gave him a wry smile, and – taking his hand back in hers – they headed through the crowd in the direction of the dungeons.

"People have been talking about us, you know," Daphne said, raising an eyebrow, playfully; "Our little dance started rumours 'bout who you're going with. A coupling of the greatest offence, to our Housemates, apparently."

Harry chuckled, swapping the hand he was holding of hers, so that he could wrap an arm around her.

"I don't care."

He'd never cared about stupid things like that – House politics – not since Malachi had turned up at Hogwarts, a year behind him, and been Sorted into the House Ron had sworn throughout all of first year was for 'enemies'.

"Me neither," Daphne agreed, with a smile; "Kinda funny, actually. People don't have anything better to do than care about who Harry Potter's kissing."

"Think it's because you're extra special," Harry said, grinning, touching his cheek to hers as they still walked, their closeness making it more of a stumble, as they descended the stairs to the dungeons; "Daphne Greengrass is a Slytherin, didn't you know; way too smart for a foolish, impulsive Gryffindor like me. Must've slipped her a love potion or something."

Daphne giggled, rolling her eyes, and pressing a kiss to his cheek, before whispering; "Doubt that's what they're saying."

They chuckled and traded teasing comments and quick little kisses – feeling incredibly daring as they did so, while the other, younger Slytherins also making their way down shot them disapproving looks – still holding tight to one another's hands as they made their way down to the dungeons.

"Did you hear Malachi's going with Luna Lovegood?" she said, when they took the last few steps down the stairs; "I didn't think he'd want to go with anyone. Y'know. After Emma."

Harry got a smirk; "Think he knew better than to show up at the dance without a shield."

Daphne laughed, then, nodding in acknowledgement at the interest Malachi was suddenly getting from all the third and fourth years. Even some of the fifth years, come to think of it.

"Common Room's just there," Daphne nodded in its direction, where the nosey second and third years were flocking – looking over their shoulders at the two of them and continuing to whisper amongst themselves – as if Harry didn't already know his way about the place.

But then, Daphne probably didn't know how well-acquainted Harry was with the dungeons.

"This is me," Harry said, stopping and nodding at the door to Snape's office as they reached it – which, obviously, Daphne knew – and she nodded, stopping as well and turning to face him, to say their farewells.

The two of them just looked at one another, as the last of the other Slytherins passed them and tapered off, trickling off to the dorms and Common Room.

And then they grinned, stepping in closer to one another, kissing again – as if they hadn't already done so, repeatedly, all the way back – but this time, Harry thought it just might be one of the really good ones, where his knees would go weak and his head would go fuzzy.

Not so, apparently, despite the obvious promise behind it.

Footsteps on the stone ground, skidding to a halt, make them break apart from one another, quickly, to look at who'd caught them.

Malfoy.

Malfoy eyed them with disgust, saying nothing, and just headed on by them, along the corridor and up the stairs they'd just come down.

Harry and Daphne watched after him – and Harry noticed Daphne looked a little concerned, not about what Malfoy had seen, he realised, but actually about him – and Harry opened his mouth to speak but, just as he was about to, the door behind him was pulled open and he sprung back from Daphne completely.

"Miss Greengrass. Mr. Potter," Snape drawled, eyeing them both, where they now stood over a foot apart from one another; "I did wonder if you had forgotten your scheduled detention, Mr. Potter –" he jerked his head the direction of the office, before saying; " – Miss Greengrass, return to the Common Room."

Snape turned on his heel, heading into the office, while Harry and Daphne shared amused smiles between them before Harry hurried on in behind him, closing the door as he did.

"Ten minutes late," Snape said, looking entirely unimpressed with him.

"Sorry," Harry said, suddenly realising maybe lingering and fooling around with Daphne on the slow walk back wasn't worth Snape's annoyance with him, now that he was suddenly faced with it; "I was –"

"Spare me the explanations, I do have eyes and ears, Mr. Potter," Snape interrupted him, with a quick jerk of his chin in the direction of the chairs already set up, as he added, briskly; "Ready yourself."

Harry immediately went over, taking a seat.

"You know how it is, Sir," Harry said, getting a grin as Snape approached to take the chair opposite; "Sometimes you just can't help yourself. I've got eyes, too. Had them all summer, actually."

Snape stopped in his steps – the abruptness of which belying his surprise – and he met Harry's eyes at that. Snape looked at him for a second, before rolling his own, though a smile played on his lips now.

"That is quite enough of your cheek, Harry. We are fifteen minutes behind, as it is."

Snape sat down opposite, knee to knee, and raised an eyebrow.

"Go."

"Legillimens."

Harry surprised them both by actually getting something on his first attempt.

His mum.

His mum was standing before him – Snape – cheeks flushed and eyes burning with determination, before she declared, passionately:

"Severus. I'm in love with you."

And then she pounced kissing Snape with ardour.

The memory quickly slipped away. Way, way too many thoughts and emotions of Harry's own springing to him in that moment for him to possibly hold onto it.

As if he would want to.

It was hard to tell who was more embarrassed – he or Snape – when he got his bearings, the two of them sitting opposite one another.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him; "Did you do that on purpose?"

Snape scoffed, rolling his eyes.

But Harry wasn't entirely convinced. In fact, he was quite certain that mortifying Harry – as he currently now felt – was exactly something Snape would do to teach him a lesson, in retaliation for his cheek.

Snape smirked, when Harry's awkwardness carried on longer than his did, and he inclined his chin.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, gripping his wand – bracing himself for whatever might come next – and spoke the incantation once more.

"Legillimens."

His mum came back – she was obviously on Snape's mind – and they were in bed this time, which almost made Harry lose the memory right away, but they were fully dressed in night clothes and just talking.

"Harry's been asking questions…about Grace."

"I thought Lupin had dealt with it."

"Imaginary dad isn't cutting it, anymore."

It wavered, almost lost, but Harry held onto it – keeping it all clear – and then the memory morphed.

It was still his mum's – his mum and Snape's – bedroom, the two of them still talking in bed – the only indication that it was a different memory, the change of clothing – as if it were all entirely normal for them.

This was their home. Their life.

Snape didn't seem particularly happy, though.

"Remus knows about us."

"Like that would stop him."

"He's a friend."

"Don't act naïve, Lily, you'd have to be blind not to notice. Why else would he persist with his constant hovering and interference in our lives?"

The memory wavered, again, Harry's own thoughts about his mum and his Uncle Remus – the obviousness of what Snape implied – threatening to chase it away – "He was James' best friend…" "…far be it for me to question the moral integrity of one of James Potter's cronies." – but it levelled back out with a jitter.

"What if Remus is right, Sev? What if I lose him?"

"Lily, we both know there is no other way…these are our children. Ours."

The memory morphed.

They were in an office – it looked like Mr. Black's at the Foundation – and they were arguing now, as Harry realised it must be Snape's office, that he'd never seen inside.

"We should have told him sooner," his mum said, looking full of regret as she said it.

"Sooner? If anything, this theatrical display only demonstrates how entirely inept he is at handling such delicate information."

It wavered, the memory, jittering like the last and skipping, while Harry called upon his calm.

"Take a leaf out of Lupin's book and throw caution to the wind…"

"…a fourteen-year-old boy and a sheltered one at that, who has no concept of the need for discretion and sacrifice in these times … unable to see past the end of his own nose; not even for the sake of his five-year-old sister –"

"…he sits in his dorm room, tilting at windmills and seeing conspiracies where there are none…the rest of us should be so lucky to be so excluded from all this lovely business that is war…"

"…frolicking and constantly looking for trouble…entirely ignorant of all the sacrifices, all the unhappiness that everyone – including his younger sister – have had to endure on his behalf…"

"…he cannot seriously claim that he has been living in hardship –"

Harry was thrown out – he didn't lose it, that time, even if everything within him was trying to burst forth, he kept it all controlled – and he quickly realised it was Snape who'd done it.

Snape had thrown him out.

Stopped him from seeing any more of it – and it washed over him, then, when Harry finally allowed it to – when he and Snape were back in his office, sitting opposite one another, a heavy silence falling upon the both of them.

Harry started to but couldn't quite meet Snape's eyes. A sudden, staggering surge of hurt coming upon him, as he remembered it all, all that had happened the year before, and – while he knew what Snape's thoughts were about it all – it cut him, deep, to actually hear it spoken.

Especially now.

Especially now when, Harry realised, he wanted Snape to care for him. He wanted it so much.

Like Harry did for him.

"Harry."

Snape's voice was quiet, soft, but there was roughness belying regret.

Harry kept his eyes on the floor, feeling stupid tears welling up, and he shook his head; "'s alright."

His voice sounded small, pathetic, wavering just like the memories did.

"No."

Harry closed his eyes, at the conviction behind Snape's single word, and he reluctantly, uneasily met the man's eyes.

Snape's expression revealed it all – nothing hidden – the mask gone and it wasn't that warmth and affection in the man's gaze then.

No.

It was regret and shame and remorse and the look in Snape's eyes was almost pleading, as he held Harry's look, neither of them looking away – as one of them, both of them - would have done in the not so distant past.

"Harry," Snape shook his head, his own expression pained; "I was wrong."

Harry said nothing, simply stared back at him, but he didn't hide anything either.

He let Snape see it. How much it had hurt – how much it still hurt, sometimes, when he let himself really think about it – and Snape lowered his eyes, after a moment, as if he were unable to look at him – at the depth of the pain he knew he was letting him see – and Snape got to his feet.

But Snape hesitated, as he made to pass him, and looked down at Harry where he was sitting.

Harry swallowed, looking up at him where he now stood at his side, feeling small, vulnerable, frightened that he'd be pushed away but unable to help pleading with his eyes for something from him. Something more. Something a bit more like what he'd seen he had with Grace.

Snape drew in a breath – his eyes seeming to bely a remorse, a deep pain of his own - and he reached out, a hand grasping Harry by the shoulder, holding it tight.

A small – a huge – gesture of comfort, of apology, and Harry found when he did – Snape giving him just that little bit more – that that was even harder to bear, to keep a hold of himself under, than what he'd seen and he lowered his head, as a tear spilled.

The hand on his shoulder tightened, as Harry sniffed, determined he wouldn't sob.

"Harry," Snape's voice was almost whispered, so full of regret, a tone that Harry had never heard from him, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut; "I am so sorry."

Harry whimpered and he turned and leaned into him then, his head pressed into Snape's side where his head reached, and the hand that had been on his shoulder released and moved – a little hesitantly – and went to the other side of him, Snape's arm curling around his head where he was pressed in against him, holding him closer.

Harry cried, then.

Snape's comfort – entirely unexpected but never unwanted – drawing it from him. All the hurt and all the anger and all the grief he'd felt – the betrayal still so raw within him, that they had lived without him – and he heard Snape's voice murmur again, his remorse as raw as Harry's pain.

"I'm so sorry."

Harry pressed in and took it – any comfort Snape was willing to give him, accepting it, forgiving him, even though it still hurt so much – and Harry sobbed, unable to help himself, finally letting it all out, as he was held tight in Snape's arms.