Harry Potter found himself pausing over the question, thinking it over. Not that he intended to answer, regardless of his reasoning. Harry Potter recognized that purr in Snape's tone - it was the tone of 'you've got no cover, and I'm coming to get you.' Definitely not the time to answer the question, not when Snape was likely to jump down the other person's throat.
"To lock up the evildoers," Bones said stoutly, responding to Snape's curt nod.
Snape purred back at her, "And what will you do if they refuse?"
"Why? We'll fight, of course."
"Will you bleed? Your enemies aren't shrinking violets, you know."
"If necessary, yes."
Snape turned to the rest of the class, saying, "This is war. Take a look around, find your best friend, or your closest analogue if you haven't one. Can you tell me what you'd do if you heard their screams in your ear as they thrashed and soiled themselves before dying?"
The whole room rustled with clothing, Harry among them. The room was perfectly silent - even Vince and Greg had been quieted by loyal Slytherins, before they were so foolish as to say a word.
"It takes a strong person, a faithful and trusting person, to put faith in the rule of law in times of war. That if you let the person who hurt you, who hurt your friends, out of your sight - that something won't happen." Snape paused, meeting a Ravenclaw's eye, "It's happened before."
Neville raised his hand, and as Snape nodded at him, said, "Is the point of war to kill the other side?"
"A very, very good question." Snape said as his lips turned upward, just a bit, into that devilish smirk of his. "But no," Snape said, drawing out the no until it was four distinct syllables. "Tell me, does anyone here want to murder one of their classmates?"
Slowly, and then like a wave, students started to shake their heads no. Some were confident, Harry saw - others looked wide-eyed, like the very idea was foreign to them, and rejected. And a few (mostly Slytherins) seemed like their answer was likely to change, depending on circumstances.
Snape's mouth curled into a crude semblance of a smile, his lips tight against one another, "I don't believe you. You are at an age where you are fools - blind or nearsighted. A missed date, a cruel word, a pointed jest. All an incitement towards giving your passion free rein."
"But no, war is not about killing the other side. I can assure you there are thousands of ways to murder your fellows. In fact, list them, as many as you can, for your first homework assignment."
It was clear, despite the short lecture, that class was dismissed. A mousy Ravenclaw suddenly stood up, and asked impulsively, "Sir, you mentioned War - what side are you exactly on?"
Snape suddenly looked smug, and stepped toward her, as all eyes were trained on him. "Finally, a question with a bit of sense. One point to Ravenclaw. I am on your side," Snape said, meeting each and every person's eye in the room, "Up until precisely 3:15 in the afternoon on May the 15th, when I hope to retire to a sunny European villa in comfort and relative peace."
A few of the Slytherins looked confused, and Ron looked sharply over at Hermione. Draco Malfoy just smirked. "Of course," Snape continued as an afterthought, "I don't actually own a sunny villa. I suppose I shall just have to borrow one - with word or with deed." Snape at the last word looked down at Malfoy, whose smug smirk had entirely fallen off his face.
"Class dismissed." Snape said, and as people fled the classroom, Harry sat quietly, starting to organize his books to leave, when Snape caught his eye with a level gaze. Harry pretended to spill his books (sending them flying) and with a muffled, hopefully inaudible curse, waved Hermione and Ron ahead.
Snape's wand cracked a few different spells, the last of which closed the door before he turned to Harry, saying quickly, "If Malfoy does decide to join, give him his head. He knows what he's doing." Snape smirked, "Or, at least, he will."
Snape vanished quickly out a sidedoor before Harry was done picking up his books, leaving Harry to hope that whatever wards Snape had snapped on the door wouldn't be painful to exit from the inside.
Later that day, Harry heard about the seventh year unfortunate enough to try entering Snape's classroom first. Singed hair and lost eyebrows were only the half of it.
Harry Potter had thought, upon waking, that it was Thursday, and that he mostly didn't have anything to worry about. It was a good feeling, truth be told. Like he could do anything, and find everything okay at the end of the day. This was partially because he didn't have class with Snape today, of course.
He closed his eyes, and started trying to remember how he had cast a different spell than he had signed. His brain wasn't, apparently, wired to remember a week ago with terribly much fidelity,* though, so Harry figured he'd try again before he went to bed. Or... maybe... within the room of Requirement. There had to be some way he could jog his memory, right?
With a leap and a jump, Harry was off to breakfast, and then to class. This was his first day of classes with Hermione, since... well, the thing he wasn't supposed to be thinking about (instead, he summoned an image of some very bouncy breasts that surprisingly belonged to Professor Sprout, and held that in his head instead, until he could simply look at Hermione without needing to think about... that thing.).
Hermione looked close to tears, as Flitwick called on her to demonstrate the latest charm that he was teaching. To everyone (except Harry) 's surprise, there was nothing. Now, in years of Charms, people had grown accustomed to Hermione Granger pulling things off perfectly. But it was rare indeed, even for the worst student, to accomplish nothing. They were far more likely to manage to blow the object to bits than to do nothing.
Finally, Prof. Flitwick broke out of his staring, turning towards Draco Malfoy, and asking him to demonstrate. With a smarmy smile that made Harry just want to punch his daylights out, Malfoy demonstrated it with a fluidity that Harry couldn't help but envy. Harry's movements always seemed jerky. Oh, sure, they worked - but they didn't flow. Someone should teach Malfoy how to do a spell chain... Harry thought, and then blinked. Did I really think that? Unbidden, Sirius Black's grinnng mug rose in front of Harry's mind's eye. No, it was not a good idea to teach Draco Malfoy, Future Death Eater, a god-damned thing.
Truth be told, Malfoy looked a bit... startled when Hermione Granger also flubbed the transfiguration (though, admittedly, she at least managed to change the color of the frog). Minerva McGonagall just looked worried, and all the Slytherins were smugly laughing as Malfoy started to "Show them how it's done." in the most grandiose poses he could pull off. Harry finally couldn't take the great wanker anymore, and cough-whispered, "Lockhart." Malfoy shot him a sharp glare, and continued in style. Harry, however, hadn't really expected Draco Malfoy to listen. Not immediately, at any rate.
It was right before dinner when Harry Potter managed to get Hermione alone - she had crept off to an unused classroom, and she was trying a simple levitation charm, over and over and over again. Harry, however, had decided that enough was enough. He wasn't going to let Hermione drown in her own lack of confidence. He snuck up carefully, and then said, directly in her ear, "Boo!"
He dropped to the floor, looking up at Hermione, who was staring at the wall, looking at the blazing fire spell she had thrown in her terror. Harry climbed to his feet, glad that he had been trained by the school of hard knocks, and knew how to fall without breaking anything. "You forgot it wasn't supposed to work," He said with a shrug, and then Hermione impulsively hugged him. "Thank you thank you thank you" she cried. Harry hugged her back, of course, and as Hermione quieted, she whispered in his ear, "I was starting to think I might never get it..."
Harry responded, equally quietly, "Magick's always there when you need it."
"Hermione..." Harry said, and trailed off, leaving her looking at him quietly. He absentmindedly began to fidget, as he tried to work out exactly what he had to say. "I... kinda need your help."
"Is it about Ginny?" Hermione asked proddingly, assuming that would be the only way Harry would be this out of sorts.
"No," Harry said, taking a deep breath, "IwantyoutohelpmefigureouthowtogetMalfoyintotheHomeworkGroup."
Hermione blinked, and then blinked again. "What?" She said, stepping back, as she finally parsed what he'd been saying. "But... why?"
"Because..." Harry said, and realized that he didn't really have a decent answer. Certainly not Hermione worthy, at any rate. She liked to examine anything. "The sorting hat said we should try to unite the houses, right?"
"Yeah..." Hermione said, "... but, Malfoy?" Hermione herself squirmed a bit, "You know I wouldn't say this, normally, but ... his father's a Death Eater! Do you really think this is a good idea?"
"Umm..." Harry said, thinking that if he thought it was a bad idea, he probably wouldn't have suggested it.
"Weren't you the one saying that I shouldn't do something just because a teacher told me to? And the sorting hat is just a hat!" Hermione said.
"A magic hat." Harry weakly offered.
"Nope, not going to help you with this one. Not until you come up with some compelling reasons." Hermione said, and Harry could hear her mind closing like the steel trap it was.
He was on his own. After all, it wasn't like he could ask Ron for help, now was it? Ron wouldn't ask. Ron would simply blow up, and Harry really didn't want to have to deal with that. Again.
"I... guess i'll try to figure this out on my own, then?" Harry offered weakly, his mind certain, but his heart unusually weary. He liked his friends, really he did, but they could be so blasted difficult sometimes.
Harry left first, leaving Hermione still trying without any success at all, to lift a feather. He wanted to have a walk around Hogwarts. Walking always helped him think, it always had.
Harry'd had time to go down two sets of stairs, and come back up one, winding and wending his way around the castle as he thought on his plan.
"Well, look if it isn't the Magic Mudblood..." Harry heard, recognizing Draco Malfoy's arrogant drawl. Thoughtfully, he slipped behind a pillar, freeing his wand without - explicitly - aiming it at Malfoy's back.
Hermione was dead silent, and Harry thought that was probably a bad thing.
"What'sa matter, muddie? Lost your magic? Having problems with your wand?" Malfoy's drawl rolled across the hallway.
"I hardly think it's any of your business." Hermione said.
Harry, right behind Malfoy, heard him whisper a spell that Harry didn't immediately recognize. The spell flew, night-green, and Hermione Granger managed to summon an impressively glowing Protego.
From behind her, Severus Snape emerged, and Harry grinned - for once it looked likely that Malfoy would be the one getting into trouble. Surely he couldn't be mad at Hermione for casting a shield spell. "Mister Malfoy," Snape purred, "It would appear that Miss Granger has entered a new, but not novel, phase of magical development. You would be well advised to not press her limits, particularly in stressful situations." He paused for a moment, then said, in a purring tone that dripped menace, "You are, I trust, aware of the rules about waving wands at other students in the hallways? If that had been anything more dangerous than a haircolor-changing cantrip..."
Draco Malfoy's voice had lost all of his arrogance when he next spoke, sounding as colorless as his face, "Yes, sir." He left the scene without running, but it was a close thing, his swift steps very reminiscent of Snape himself.
Naturally, in his hurry, he didn't see Harry Potter.
Harry, however, knew better than to expect that Snape would not notice him. He wondered what Snape would have to say about his conduct, and idly scraped the floor with the toe of one shoe. Harry felt the rush of a silencing spell over his head, his eyes brightening as he looked toward Snape.
Snape said to Hermione, "He'll have that round the whole Slytherin Common Room by nightfall. Expect stares, not questions."
Harry felt the silencing spell fall, and heard Snape's retreating footsteps. Indecisive, he stood there, as Hermione first steadied herself with a few deep, calming breaths, and then followed Snape.
Harry spent the rest of the time towards dinner trying to figure out if Hermione would have been proud of him for his reticence, or disgusted at his lack of bravery. He found he really didn't know. Still, a good part of him was glad that she hadn't seen him standing there.
Harry, heading off to dinner, tried to pretend to himself that he wasn't hurt that he was going to have to do the rest of the plan by himself. Oh, it didn't hurt too much not to be letting Ron in - he was always a hothead, and if Harry'd had any plans before this that even verged on what he was doing now, he'd have left the redhead out in a heartbeat. He was simply too volatile for anything resembling delicacy.
Not that Harry intended to do anything delicate, today.
However, it was really Hermione not wanting to help that upset him. She always had such a level head on her shoulders, and she was good at plans, like scary good. And they had always done these sorts of things together. True, this time he hadn't had a "good enough reason" (whatever that would take... Harry knew Hermione didn't hate Malfoy, but if you consider someone a rather obnoxious bit of slime, it's hard to think anything good about them at all, isn't it? Harry himself had to think about what Snape had said about Malfoy's loyalty before he could really find anything good to say about Malfoy, and that was in the secludedness of his own mind!).
Harry was so preoccupied with his thoughts, that he almost missed Luna Lovegood coming down a sidepassage towards the Great Hall and dinner. This was a more impressive feat than it sounds, as she had colorful swirls of light arrayed around her, so she looked like some sort of completely clad belly dancer, or possibly a faerie. Either way, it was quite a marvellous sight, and Harry was glad that he had stopped - was that a butterfly net?
"Luna?" Harry asked, reluctant to intrude if she was really preoccupied with catching something imaginary. He'd done so before, and been roped into helping her on her hunt. While normally he was game for such frivolity, today he really was hungry - and at any rate he had things to do.
"Oh! Harry Potter! I didn't notice you were there." Luna said, dropping the net.
Harry approached softly, hoping that if she was looking for something it would be attracted by silence, rather than by a lot of noise. Luna looked the type to have a good pair of lungs on her, and he didn't fancy her screaming in his ear.
"You look like you're thinking pretty hard about something." Luna said with a smile.
Harry looked up and down the hallway, before swiftly sketching a well-memorized spell with his index finger, speaking the privacy spell in low tones. "Yeah, I've been working on getting out of leading the Homework Group I started last year..."
"You're still doing that?" Luna said, then changed her mind, "Someone's still doing that? I figured with Snape..."
Harry smiled, and said, "It's still a good idea. You saw last year how much you learned about the other houses..."
Luna smiled and nodded, and then looked a little sad, "All except the Slytherins..." Harry was vaguely surprised that had worked, as he hadn't really expected to lead her right there - he hadn't really been trying, at any rate.
"Maybe..." Harry started, pausing, "Maybe you could help me with that..."
Harry explained what he had come up with, and Luna nodded, before smiling angelically. "You say just that, and I'll take care of the rest." So saying, she got out a book to read on the way to dinner.
Harry knew something was up when he strode into the Great Hall. For one, Dumbledore wasn't eating. The Headmaster almost always ate supper at the Great Hall...
In fact, none of the other teachers were eating, except the Potions Professor, whose long, pale nose gleamed pallidly beneath his dark, lanky hair. Poor man looked like a moonlit shadow under these lights... really creepy. He certainly didn't look half so bad in the sunshine, even if he had a complexion that was completely resistant to tanning.
Wanting to know what was going on, Harry Potter sat down quickly - also, unlike other years, not particularly wanting to interfere. Harry didn't give that idea much thought, however, as a lot of other students were pouring into the Great Hall, and he wanted to keep an eye on them, to see what was going on, and to figure out what they'd got planned. Besides, he wanted to hear if Smith was already boasting about the DA.
Harry could see the Slytherins with their easy cameraderie (that he rather suspected masked a relentless level of suspicion between the house members). But that wasn't so interesting. What was interesting was the Ravenclaws, who seemed jarred out of their normal circles. Indeed, the claws that had left (or at least tried to), were grouped together, uneasily eyeing both the door and Snape, as if they were expecting something.
And perhaps they were.
There was a palpable air of tension across the entire Great Hall, words were muffled and laughter was light if not silenced entirely. Professor Snape, of course, ate as though nothing was wrong. Perhaps, in his estimation, things had merely marked improved now that he wasn't forced to make small talk with Professor Sprout or Flitwick. Harry thought that sounded like the perpetually grumpy teacher, anyway.
Harry Potter forced himself to eat slower than usual, grabbing three slabs of roast beef, and some mashed potatoes. He was almost finished with the first slab (which really was more than he used to eat, but Harry supposed he was growing, now, and that meant that he was likely to get taller and not wind up like Dudley), when the Staff Door opened lightly - more a creak, as the door opened just marginally more than a crack.
Professor McGonagall's feline form emerged. Nearly half the room stopped their eating, and the rest weren't far behind, as they picked up on the mood. She danced across the floor, in that languid "I am perfectly where I want to be" mode that Harry had learned from the neighborhood catlady's cats... And then she paused, hopped onto the dais on which the High Table rested, and then executed a perfect jump... straight into Snape's lap, and then onto the table, directly in front of him (unwatched, Snape's plate had been pushed over a foot away from him). She looked him over once, and then curled into what Harry liked to think of as a cat's natural Warm Ball Mode. Snape gently laid one of his longfingered hands on her, and began to stroke.
Harry Potter figured he was the only one not surprised when the Transfiguration Professor began to purr.
It was about a minute of stunned silence (Ron was still eating, but quietly, and Hermione had merely glanced up before returning to her reading, absently leading food into her mouth as was her custom).
The main door to the Great Hall opened - and Ron dropped his food. Hermione dropped hers as well - onto the book, and cursed loudly.
The Minister of Magic had arrived, looking dapper as ever in purple robes, although his usual genial smile had been replaced by a troubled frown. The entire room was silent, and Harry belatedly realized that there weren't any other chairs at the High Table.
Harry's eyes felt like they were sharper than normal, as he watched Minister Fudge stroll down the long way towards the high table. Harry hadn't the highest opinion of the man, and he felt certain that most of the students shared his thoughts on the very officious, if congenial man. Harry Potter could feel, crawling within his belly, the feeling that Minister Fudge was walking into a trap.
Harry didn't feel compelled to warn him.
Minister Fudge continued to stroll nearer the high table, as a motionless Severus Snape silently studied him. Minister Fudge approached to three paces away from the dais, and looked upward (Harry mentally docked him a few status points for not having stopped significantly farther away. Who wants to look up at the person they're talking to? Just going to get a crick in your neck...).
"Master Snape," Minister Fudge started, and Harry docked him another point - Master was a formal title, and it looked like the Minister was trying to be here to do something informal. Besides, it had awful connotations - he really ought to have used Professor. Harry blinked. Had he just thought that the Minister was significantly bad at his job? Yes, yes he had. The Minister continued seamlessly, "What a pleasure to see you again." He said this with a broad, and completely insincere grin.
"Likewise," Snape said in a level, colorless voice - he's really making sarcasm sing.
"Now, I say, my good man, were you trying to cause a panick in your Defense against the Dark Arts classroom?" Minister Fudge said genially, and Harry admired how unruffled he managed to seem, when Snape was giving him that piercing-eye look that never failed to reduce Harry to eye-dropping, toe shuffling shame (no matter that he'd often done nothing wrong).
"No," Snape said, his purring voice pulling that syllable out into three, "I was merely wondering why they weren't panicking already." Harry caught at what Snape was doing - he's playing to the crowd. This isn't really about Fudge at all.
"Now, now," Minister Fudge said, "We can't have you panicking the classroom. And giving students advice to leave the country?" The tone was of disapproval, although Minister Fudge still seemed to be saying it with a smile.
"I'd give you the same advice, if I thought you had the brains to take it." Snape drawled, and a few first year Slytherins tittered (to be shushed by their elders). "This war will end ... poorly... for those who tend to sit on the fence."
Minister Fudge finished his thought, still disapproving, as if Snape had said nothing of consequence, "My word, you're supposed to be a teacher, not a coward!"
"Minister," Snape said, letting the silence reign until the Minister of Magic was actually looking into his dark eyes - that suddenly seemed to Harry not as unctuous as an oil slick, but sticky as tar, and as mesmerising as his house's mascot.
Snape continued, "I take my vows seriously, and I have vowed to help these children to the best of my ability." Snape gave a strange expression - one that showed simply one of his teeth poking out over his lower lip - something that wasn't a smile, not nearly, but just the merest glimpse of fangs.** No wonder people thought him a vampire! Harry thought with a mental chortle.
Snape leaned back, saying casually, "It's hardly my fault if the best move for a neutral party is to leave Britain, now is it?"
"My good man, think about what you're doing! Britain can hardly stand if her best and brightest leave!" Minister Fudge said frantically.
"Potter, Malfoy, stand up." Snape's voice cracked commandingly across the Great Hall. Harry Potter stood quietly, at some reasonable facsimile of parade rest. Draco Malfoy, as usual, managed to look significantly more dignified and elegant.*** Harry Potter was just relieved that his own face probably didn't look like he thought he was in trouble.
"Gryffindor," Snape's voice cut, cold as glass and dark as a moonlit night, "Will you do The House of Bravery proud? Will you show us the courage to leave Britain, and set yourself an example for your peers?"
Harry Potter's spine stiffened under the weight of Snape's words, and when he spoke, his voice was ice cold - and determined, "I will not."
"Slytherin," Snape said, his voice purring, that peculiar 'you're on very thin ice' tone that Snape loved to use, "Will you show Cunning enough to fight another day? Will you leave before the shots ring out?"
Harry's eyes narrowed as he stared at Malfoy, who swallowed once before answering firmly, "I shall not."
Minister Fudge opened his mouth, as if to say something - which was a very unwise move, all things considered. Severus Snape leaned back in his chair, adopting the position of a man in charge, staring down at his subordinate, "So, you see, you needn't worry for your campaign coffers, Minister." Snape's voice purred as he continued, "Your sinecure is safe, indeed."
Minister Fudge was strangely distracted from his original purpose, looking at Harry Potter with such a naked expression of greed that Harry wanted to find some place to hide. Nobodywanted him like that. He hadn't wanted anyone to want him like that.
Eventually (it had seemed like hours to Potter), Minister Fudge recollected his audience, and genially turned round to Severus Snape, "You have given me much to think about, Master Snape. I would ask, however, that you cease and desist any efforts to spread hysteria through the school, and through your students, to all Britain."
"If their direct experience with whom our governmental institutions are ruled by cannot sway them, I fear my rhetoric is but a poor shadow, insubstantial and unlikely to change their stubborn minds." Snape said, surging to his feet. "Fools, one and all!" Snape turned away at that, and his robes billowed behind him, as he swept his way out the staff door.
Which left the somewhat flummoxed Minister Fudge staring at the table, when Minerva McGonagall transformed. "I do say, sir, that you are required to get permission from the Headmaster," she paused for a moment, "Or the assistant headmaster, to enter Hogwarts Castle or its grounds. Suffice it to say, that permission has been henceforth revoked."
Minerva McGonagall sat in the seat that Severus Snape had vacated, and stared at Minister Fudge until he - rather genially and meekly, bid the whole of Hogwarts adieu.
Harry Potter hadn't liked that look on Draco Malfoy's face. It wasn't one of arrogance, nor one of pride... it had, well, Harry might have almost said, ... it looked like fear.
The rest of the student body erupted in comments directly after the Minister had left (Minerva's cold glare had kept them quiet beforehand). "Why do you suppose he did that?" Luna Lovegood asked. "Doesn't it strike you like poking a hornet's nest?"
Harry's eyes found the blonde, who had somehow managed to wind up at the Gryffindor table (Harry was mildly surprised that Snape hadn't called her on it, being in charge and all). "Of course it was. Merlin, I hope that wasn't the whole point."
Ron, still eating (always eating), said with his mouth full, "Of course it wasn't! He's a great big git, and found a way to take it out on someone his own size."
Hermione, giggling, said, "I think the Minister outweighs Professor Snape." And they all had a good, soul-clearing laugh at that one.
Harry Potter was uncharacteristically impatient. He wanted to fidget, wanted to be up, wanted to be out o' the room. He wondered if Minister Fudge had gone home, or back to the ministry. Ron was still eating, of course, and Hermione had her nose in a book. Luna was holding court (to no one, as usual), discussing Pibbitygibbets, and Harry pretended like he was listening. In reality, his ears were cocked to hear what the crowd was saying.
As was typical, the Slytherins were making fun of Fudge - Harry found himself thinking how he could have done better, and the Hufflepuffs were leaning towards a second year whose parents apparently worked at the Ministry. "Can you believe your parents work for him?" The Gryffindors were merrily ignoring the entire thing except for Creevy, who had deemed Snape's discourse, "cool." The Ravenclaws? Harry's gaze sharpened as he looked sidealong at them. They were busy discussing things on the merits, wondering and talking about the Minister, Severus Snape, and the odds of talking their parents into leaving the country.
This was the havoc that Severus Snape had wrecked. Harry blinked, thinking suddenly that Prof. Snape couldn't, wouldn't have done this on accident. He was far too skilled an operator for that. Ah, there were the Slytherins, boisterously poking fun at Minister Fudge's greed. Oi, was that one suggesting that Lucius Malfoy would make a better Minister? Now there was a disaster in the making, Harry Potter thought, although really, he couldn't see Mister Malfoy putting Umbridge in again. So, maybe only a different disaster, then.
By the end of the meal, half a dozen different rumors had traversed the hall, becoming half crazed indeed in the retelling. Snape was 7 feet tall, Minister Fudge a plump imp, chortling about the end of the world as if it was the second coming (to be fair, Minister Fudge had been chortling at some point, Harry was pretty sure). It was all completely implausible, and that was apparently how the gossips liked it. It seemed like only the Ravenclaws were thinking about what had been said... but even as he thought that, Harry could see, like flickers of light on the water, people's thoughts turning the conversation over in their heads. It was almost like if they didn't look on it straight, they didn't... have to confront - what, exactly?
Harry firmly set the thought to the side, as he saw Zach Smith stand up, chuffily patting his friends on the back. Harry rose too, not seeming to watch Zach so much as move towards the Great Hall Entranceway of his own volition. As he did so, he swore he saw Draco Malfoy's sharp eyes looking at him. He had the disturbing impression that Draco wasn't fooled in the slightest by his facade. Make of it what you will, Harry thought, and without looking, he heard Luna's light steps behind him, barely audible over the schoolyard din.
*Apparently Uncle Vernon was reminiscing with Aunt Marge about being young and getting a good car stereo.
**no, not literal fangs. Metaphorical fangs.
**Poor Harry. Draco's had training on all this.
[a/n: Time to shake the can again. Reviews?]