After dinner, Harry wound up in Prof. McGonagall's office. It was strange, even though she was his head of house, he spent so much less time here than in Snape's office. Had always done so, in fact, mostly unwillingly.

"Well, Mister Potter," Professor McGonagall asked, "Did you have something to ask me?"

"Not really," Harry said gently, "I just don't have time for Quiddich this year." He placed the Captain's Badge on her desk, and tried to look appropriately sad or chagrined.

"You'll hold tryouts tommorrow." McGonagall said, "Anyone worth their salt has been training already, so it's not like the short notice will actually harm anything. Pick a captain while you're at it." Her tone was brusque, but not unkind. She smiled at him, taking years off her face, "You didn't think I'd let you off the hook without doing some work, surely?"

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, turning around and walking out, already busy thinking about the team. Harry supposed that one day spent thinking of sports wasn't a bad thing.

Hermione seemed to think so, however. All she wanted to talk about was wandless casting, and she'd dragged Harry out of the common room to do it. Luckily, Harry'd already posted the tryouts notice, or he'd have had no players at all tomorrow (Gryffindors were notoriously late risers, and he'd planned the tryouts before breakfast, that way the Quiddich Field would be empty).

With the door shut and some privacy spells cast, Hermione started going on and on about what she was learning from Professor Snape - and yes, Harry really knew he should be listening (particularly since Snape'd been teaching her some control over her emotions, in regards to casting...), but it was Hermione and she got technical at the best of times...

About a half hour into her deliriously happy lecture, Harry had an idea. He looked over at Hermione with a grin, and said, "He kissed me too, you know." Harry tried his hardest to blush - and unlike his ability to lie, he managed a decent ruddy flush to his cheeks.

All the wheels in Hermione's head seemed to grind to a halt, and then Harry had the pleasure of looking at her, as her face morphed between surprise, interest, disgust - she clearly couldn't make up her mind what to say. This lasted for about twenty seconds.

Finally, Harry just started laughing. Hermione started laughing too, for who knows what reason.

"Relax, I don't like him like that," Harry said, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling, "Was a pretty good kiss, though." Harry projected as much innocence as he possibly could, as he looked at Hermione, "Also, I can apparently blush on command. Who knew?"

Hermione's sparkling laughter echoed through the classroom.

Harry stood on the top of the North Tower (the Astronomy Tower had been crawling with people - and worse, some of the couples had looked like they'd wanted his participation...). He wasn't sure, really, why he had let himself be upset with Remus Lupin. The man had condoned his friends bullying Snape, and he'd known it was wrong. Sirius (and, Harry presumed, his father) hadn't had a shred of remorse. Snape's eyes held rage and anger when looking at Sirius, always had. But Lupin? Snape despised Lupin, and that was a different matter entirely.

So, why had Harry ever dared to think that Lupin might have told him about Lily's Slytherin friend?

Maybe it was that Lupin was the nice one, the one who actually saw what they'd done was wrong.

It wasn't like Harry'd actually needed to know her friend's name. They could have just said, "He died during the war," and left it like that. He might as well have, too. Harry thought, seething. Surely his mom wouldn't have been friends with Snape-as-he-is-now, right? It was hard to think of Snape as having any friends, including Mister Malfoy, whom Snape himself had referred to as a friend.

Harry let the feelings go, He knew now. He did, and that was a form of power in of itself.

Now if only I can stop being so muddle-headed all the time.

Severus Snape had long ago forgotten how to smile. It probably had something to do with the brand on his left forearm.

Had he still remembered how, he might have smiled at the tomfoolery Malfoy and Potter had unleashed upon themselves. Of all the daft plans! Snape had originally considered which one had come up with it, before concluding that they'd both have to be involved to come up with something this cracked.

With a face still as stone, he buried the enjoyment deep, as both boys showed bewildered expressions as girls (and boys) flocked to them, flirting.

Even better, Malfoy was back in his own skin, so it wasn't Blaise dealing with the fools.

Snape's money sat squarely on Potter breaking first, though he thought Minerva would bet the other way. Malfoys were notoriously ill-tempered scoundrels, after all.

Snape had run across many foolish plans, but this one had backfired as spectacularly as he'd concluded it would. Minerva had had the same thought when he'd shared it with her - her cackling laughter had undoubtedly been heard throughout the castle.

Snape devoutly hoped that the reason Harry Potter had been so unbalanced wasn't Draco Malfoy. He rather thought it wasn't, but had to conclude that, for a Noble Gryffindor, having to deal with unrequited love might just create enough of an emotional storm to rouse the Dark Lord himself.

Snape very much did not look forward to telling the Dark Lord that he'd been waken out of a sound slumber because of an Adolescent's Awkwardness with Lust. That would not go well, at all.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the world, as Snape sipped his black coffee, his dark laughter echoed within his shields.

Minerva, stern though she was, could barely choke back the smile, resorting to looking into her cup frequently, allowing it to hide her delight.

Harry Potter had woken up to quite a few unpleasant realizations Monday morning.

1) The girls had not stopped flocking after him.

2) Slytherin girls were now also following him (though he'd had the rare good fortune to watch Parvati try to flirt with Malfoy - her dark Indian skin a brilliant contrast to Malfoy's alabaster-blue.)

3) Some, rather cutely blushing, younger boys had decided to try flirting with Harry. This was disturbing, both because Harry wasn't interested, and because he couldn't for the life of him figure out why they would be interested in him.

4) Harry really, really didn't want Snape to figure out that Harry knew.

5) Harry sincerely doubted his own ability to "act as though he knew nothing." Slytherins were sharp after all, and Snape was their Head of House for a reason.

Harry, however, was a Gryffindor, so instead of pissing himself with fear, he decided to plunge ahead doing as best as he could.

Oddly enough, his abject ignorance of whatever the flipperty girls had been flirting with him about, didn't actually upset any of them. Apparently this made him "dreamy" and "Byronic" (whatever that means!).

Harry was going to need a new plan for dealing with the Entire Student Body trying to get him into the sack. The only bright side Harry could see was that Draco Malfoy was dealing with the same. (And, Harry thought, from the glares he was giving, that was actually Malfoy, and not Zambini). Only difference was Malfoy had managed to attract the older boys (also disturbing.) Harry made a mental note to not think about what the fuck this meant, and instead focus on fixing the problem.

Somehow.

Snape strode into the DADA classroom as usual, robes swirling behind him. "Put your homework on the podium, and break into groups of four." Oddly enough, it was Tracey Davis who spoke up, as most people were busy rustling their papers out of their bags, "How should we divide ourselves, sir? What will we be doing?"

Snape elected not to answer the second question, and answered the first in bored tones, "Divide by compatibility." Harry absently moved up to the front to hand in his homework, knowing that he'd been more thorough on this than he usually was. Well, this wasn't books, this was basically writing an essay about himself, and what he'd told his friends. Easy, right?

What wasn't so easy was coming up with people he was compatible with. Hermione? Ron? Ernie? Sue Bones? Malfoy? Knowing who he was compatible with was devilish tricky. At some point, he decided to just stand at the edge of the room, and pick a group that needed an extra man.

The Slytherin girls arranged themselves together, to no one's surprise. Seamus, Dean were together, looking for a partner set - Padma and Parvati joined them, and Harry had to fight back a smile. Those were two compatible pairs, but would they work well together?

Harry wound up in a group with Mandy, Morag, and Hermione. He figured he'd be the odd one out, but - it was better than trying to deal with Ron and Lavender, making kissy faces at each other. Harry didn't think they were terribly magically compatible, even if they seemed to fit together in other ways.

As the students sorted themselves into groups of four, Snape had quietly made his way toward the podium, where the homework assignments were being belatedly put (Hufflepuffs, in particular, having decided that "grouping up" was more important and time-critical than turning in the assignment).

Snape leapt onto the small raised platform from behind it, and that motion - or the sound - caught the attention of the room. Snape stood as if he'd been standing there all along, and asked, "Who lied on their homework?"

Sue Bones' eyes went wide at even the thought, although Hermione looked like she was trying to set Snape on fire with her eyes. Several of the Gryffindors (primarily Ron and Neville) looked very, very sheepish.

But none of them raised their hand.

Harry's eyes flicked towards the Ravenclaws, who looked mostly baffled, as they were scattered around the room.

The Slytherins, to a one, smirked, and raised their hands.

Harry had thought of lying, but had decided that he trusted Snape enough not to need to. This pagentry strongly suggested he'd been wrong, at least from a curriculum perspective.

Snape sneered at the room, "Did you perhaps forget that my loyalty to you has a time limit?" Snape's eyes raked the room, "That, past the end of this year, my occupation will no longer be wiping your noses and ensuring that you can survive?"

Snape's eyes flashed with dark thoughts, though he only sneered, "Most of you have been foolish enough to put enough blackmail material in here that I could have a quite profitable career out of the deal." Harry knew Snape was right in his case, unfortunately enough.

"Enough!" Snape said in a loud voice that somehow wasn't a shout. "Caelum!" he said, but Harry - who'd been nearer to the side of the podium than not, caught the motion of his wand, and that was not the same spell. The verbal spell lit the papers in deep violet fire, and they burnt to ash.

"You may all be thankful that, for the moment, my loyalty is to you, imbeciles and idiots included." Snape sneered. "Those cunning enough to lie shall receive extra credit." Harry knew, deep down in his heart, that he ought to be upset that the Slytherins were getting points for their house virtue, but he really couldn't bring himself to care. It was DADA, wasn't it? He ought to expect more points to Gryffindor, in the main, for being brave.

The room was nearly caught up in talking about what Snape had just done.

Nearly.

When Snape spoke, in his soft tones, and said, "Form equilateral triangles, with one of your four in the center. The central person is the fulcrum. The outer people should join hands, and merge their magic. The central person shall direct it."

The theory was in the textbook, Harry knew, though he wanted to consult it rather than just try to remember. However, this was a practical session, and he worried that just looking at the textbook might rouse Snape's ire. So, naturally, he asked Hermione, who had the textbook memorized, as usual.

Harry wouldn't have caught it last year, but he noticed now - several other groups nearby were listening, and Nott had his "I'm listening" face on, from halfway across the room. Snape might have bit anyone who dared to get out the book, but - even if the Slytherins sneered at the "Resident Know-It-All," they weren't above taking notes. Malfoy, interestingly enough, wasn't listening. Instead, he was talking quietly to his team, taking charge. Harry wrested his attention back to Hermione, who had only just now gotten to the part he'd not understood (or so he hoped).

It was a tough assignment, trying to meld magic together. Hermione said that people of the same element generally had the easiest time melding, and that the circle's function depended on the mindset and magic. Earth was generally the most controllable, followed by Life, with Air and Fire the most quixotic - they had a tendency to be wayward, even if you melded them properly.

Had Snape just decided to let Hermione lecture? Harry thought.

It didn't really matter, as around people pulled themselves into circles. "Who's in the center?" Harry asked, and Hermione said, "I'll have a go first, and if that doesn't work, well, we can try everyone else."

Harry'd pictured the magic flowing, in an endless circle, drawing upon his wandless magic. But he couldn't feel it passing to Morag or Mandy. Slowly - for Harry's mind was busy with the magic, not just thinking, he closed his eyes. "Picture our hands like a great glowing circle. The magic flows around the circle, endlessly. Let the circle roll on."

Mandy and Morag apparently liked that last sentence, as they started repeating it. Harry hurriedly started synchronizing his voice with theirs. Continuously they said that for two whole minutes, before Morag broke off, "It isn't working."

"Try something else then," Hermione said impatiently.

"Picture the circle as a flow, then," Morag said, in her implacably reasonable tone. "It moves from me to Mandy to Harry and so on..."

Harry nodded.

"Feel yourself as part of the river, neverending, flowing around and around." Morag said.

Harry found this picture hard to keep in his head, even with his eyes closed. Let alone picture it actually working. "I can't do that one." Harry snapped, sounding more frustrated with himself than with her.

"Try this then," Mandy said, "We are three gems on a circle, all glowing, evenly, distributing bright white light."

Harry knew how to glow, but didn't have the ability to sense the other two. So he glowed - until Hermione started giggling.

Startled, Harry opened his eyes, discovering that he was literally glowing. His face flushed red with embarassment, as he said, "Sorry."

Further efforts yield no more positive results, though at least Harry hadn't started glowing like a lightning bug again.

"Your turn in the middle, Harry," Hermione said, and Harry hoped that she'd do better.

"Morag, take blue, Mandy take green, and I'll take red." Hermione instructed, "Picture us glowing, until Harry is illuminated in bright white light."

Harry soon learned where Hermione's impatience had come from - standing in the center watching zero results, not even a whisper, was damned frustrating. Particularly when you couldn't do anything until the others had their part solved.

Harry's sole consolation was that nobody, nobody else was actually solving this one. Harry's eyes tightened into slits. That wasn't like Snape, to have something that no one could solve. Look deeper.

It was Morag's turn next, and then Mandy's. And then they all sat down and started talking, throwing out ideas and trying them one by one.

Not a single one worked.

Worse, it seemed the entire class was having trouble. Snape stalked around the class - Harry could see those black eyes taking notes, but not a single group seemed to be finding their sea legs.

Midway through the class, Seamus had started making fireballs (shooting them towards the ceiling), and Snape stormed over, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Venting," Seamus said.

"Perhaps you might consider venting in a way that's less detrimental to the rest of the class?" Snape sneeringly said.

Seamus switched to fireworks, which got him rather frequent glares, but not detention. Harry envied Seamus that - any sort of fun he'd had in class would NO DOUBT involve a forthcoming detention.

Harry turned his attention back to Morag, who was just now outlining a way to actually merge via a tetrahedron. Harry wasn't optimistic - Snape had said circle, after all, but he got to his feet and tried again.

Ten minutes before the end of class, at least a third of the class had stopped working, and they all seemed to have adopted Seamus' strategy of claiming to be "Venting."

Harry heard a double-thump, and looked up at the podium, behind which Snape was standing. "Not a single one of you thought to change groups." Snape sneered. "Dunderheads! Did you really think you're most compatible with those you're with?"

Everyone looked at each other, most looking abashed. Harry wasn't sure, however, who he would really mesh well with, so he didn't feel as bad. And Hermione and Morag and Mandy were people with similar personalities.

Snape sneered, saying quietly, "Goyle, Crabbe, Longbottom. Front and center, and join hands."

Wait, what? Harry thought, his eyes widening.

The three assembled, Neville swallowed, nearly having to force himself to close hands with Draco's two goons. Probably thought they're going to shatter his hands.

"All three of you, close your eyes." Snape said softly, "Draco Malfoy, take the center."

Draco did so with an arrogant smirk and toss of his hair as he ducked under. Smarmy git Harry thought, knowing that Malfoy was bluffing.

"Think of Narcissa's garden," Snape said, his soft voice resembling a drone. "Picture it, how you felt, the oneness with nature."

It wasn't something you saw, or heard - but Harry could feel his hair standing on end, and almost a subtle ringing in his ears. They got it.

"Take this seed," Snape said, handing it to Malfoy, "Make it grow."

Malfoy drew his wand, and breathed out an Herbology spell, letting the plant grow greenly upwards, and then bloom - a fireflower on the long stalk.

"Class dismissed." Snape said curtly. "Potter, remain."

Harry, who had been packing up his books to go (not that he'd really looked in them, but having them out seemed to settle the Ravenclaws and Hermione down, as if he'd actually been helping. Books didn't teach him much, but... ), looked up, and continued to put them away.

When everyone had left the room, except for Snape - behind the podium, and Harry himself, Harry approached, light on his feet and his wand in his hand, not quite ready to cast, but definitely wary. As he approached, the door closed behind him, and Harry could almost feel the secrecy spells swirling around himself.

"Sir?" Harry prompted.

Snape sneered, "As I have neither the time nor the inclination to sort through these, you may consider this your next assignment." Snape then flourished the homework assignments, drawing them out of the podium itself (a small ledge Harry hadn't noticed before).

"You did cast a second spell!" Harry exclaimed excitedly.

"You noticed." Snape said, sounding not at all surprised, "You'll find that people tend to assume papers set on fire will turn to ash. A simple duplication spell, hidden behind the podium." Harry nodded excitedly, and Snape continued, "The ability to cast two spells at once is useful in of itself, as you can see."

Harry blinked at that, realizing that Snape was saying more than he was saying - there was another reason he'd gotten that assignment. Better not to ask, Harry thought wryly.

Returning his attention to the papers, Harry eyed them like he would a snake about to strike, "What should I look for, sir?"

"Whatever you might find profitable." Snape said, slamming the pages down on top of the podium. "It goes without saying that you are not to let anyone else know that you have these pages."

Snape turned, as if to leave, and paused, turning only his head back towards Harry. "I wouldn't be sure, if I was you, that everyone told the truth in class today. And that includes the students who claimed they lied."

Snape left, and Harry quietly opened his bag, grabbing up his History of Magic book, and stuffing the pages inside, not caring that it would break the spine.

That evening, Harry's mind was more on Snape's 'homework assignment' than on the tryouts. That was okay, though, Harry reassured himself. He sat down with Hermione and nodded at Ron and Ginny and Angelina, "Why don't you guys give them a run for their money?"

"Aye-aye Cap'n!" Said Ron, who seemed determined to milk the title for all it was worth - for the one day Harry'd have it. Harry didn't mind. If he had the time to play, he would.

Everyone got to the air, including Ron and Ginny, and Harry watched the Chaser tryouts, tuning out everything else. His father had been a Chaser, but Harry'd never been big enough to manage it. Angelina and her two friends were still tops at the position - mostly through teamwork. Harry watched carefully as Angelina tried to break the news to two younger students Gavin and Mark. She had her hand on their shoulders, and even though they looked depressed, they quickly started a game of pickup seeking that Harry itched to play in.

The beaters were another story. Without the twins, nobody really had the bulk for the position. Gryffindors tended towards athletic, but apparently not quite that bulky. Ron was frowning at them but eventually selected Evan and Ian, two boys Harry'd never have picked, even though they did have more potential than the rest of the candidates. Harry'd have trouble ordering them around, and from above, the Seeker's traditional position, that would be disasterous.

Ron, however, would do better. He could see both of them, and by turning his head, identify who he was calling to, even if their names were easy to mistake.

Ron was the only candidate for the Keeper position, and Harry was quite glad that no one from the other Houses was here to jeer. Ron was a decent Keeper, but by no means extraordinary.

The extraordinary one was Gin Weasley, with her firebright hair whipping behind her. Harry wasn't trying out for Seeker, although he could tell that few people believed he wasn't playing.

Harry gathered all the returning players back, and said, "Okay, let's deal. Who's on, who's a good prospect, and who needs to stay off at all costs?"

Harry let the position players start to talk (Hermione, of course, drew up a chart), and ended it with "Ginny, take seeker."

"What, you don't want it?" Ginny responded teasingly.

"Too much work, and I don't quite mean school," He said, giving her a wink.

"Harry Potter, giving up flying?" Ginny's eyes sparkled as she teased him.

"Oh, I was thinking about teaching Malfoy a thing or two." Harry said, and Ginny smirked right back.

A second later, the rest of the team reacted, shouting things like "No, you can't!" - someone near the back even managed, "Traitor!"

Harry looked innocent and unfazed, and as they calmed down (Ron's face was still red), he said, "Suppose I should have offered to train you, Ginny?"

Ginny crossed her arms, and spoke with laughter in her voice, "As if! I can fly your pants off any day of the week."

"Aye," Harry said, "Maybe you just need glasses?"

Ginny drove a hard elbow into his side, and Hermione giggled nearby.

"Wont' teaching Malfoy give him an advantage?" Ron asked, his hands flexing but his voice calm.

"Not against Gryffindor." Harry said, "Gin's right, she flies better than me. I'm not giving him lessons on spotting the snitch"

Gin continued, "Yeah, he might manage to beat Hufflepuff, but he won't beat Cho just by improving how he flies..."

On top of the Astronomy tower, Harry Potter sat down and tried to imagine Minerva McGonagall telling him about his Mother. She'd only said a few things, none of it... really real. She'd mentioned friends, yes, but when it came right down to it, how close could they have been? Harry'd never seen any of them in his life. He figured that Hagrid had tried to write to them, but looking down at the picture album, Harry couldn't really see any pictures from when his Mum was younger than fifth year.

Had Snape been her only real friend?

Harry could see his Mum, who everyone said was lively and vivid, stubbornly clinging to a friendship that wasn't winning her any friends in her own house. Harry knew he was stubborn like that too, that someone who did him right would be rewarded, if he could at all swing it.

Harry let out a bolt of lightning, thrusting his wand up towards the sky. It was just a symbol of how angry he was, seething really. He wanted to go and yell at Professor McGonagall, who he'd always trusted to be fair and honest.

Why had she lied to him?

She didn't need to tell him, not really, that it was Professor Snape. Harry'd asked about his Mum, not about her friends. Just hearing that she was friends with a Slytherin would have been enough. That alone said she was worthy of the House of Lions.

Loosing lightning apparently started thunderstorms, Harry thought wryly, as the November rain poured down on him. He let his tears fall, letting them be swallowed by the cold flagstones.

As he turned to head inside, well past curfew, he could see McGonagall, in cat form, watching from inside, out of a skylight.

"Mister Potter, have you had enough fresh air?" she said to him, as he tried to close the trapdoor, bringing in enough water that they both made wet footsteps as they went down the stair.s

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, blushing a bit in embarrassment. He'd been thinking such nasty things about her, and here she was waiting for him, watching to make sure he wasn't doing anything irresponsible, and having the good grace not to mention his tears.

Tuesday Evening, Draco Malfoy was heading back to the dungeons, all worn out from playing Tag with the Gryffindors.* He was trying to dodge the lily-loving flocks of girls (and, strangely, now boys) that kept on trying to get him to pick them up. As if Draco would reward such cowardice, he smirked.

From behind him, he heard the slightest whisper of a shoe-clad foot on stone. Instantly, he ducked into a nearby alcove, hoping that he hadn't been spotted by whichever girl was wandering this time of night.

Instead, Snape came out of the darkness, into the moonlit alcove, "Mister Malfoy, I was hoping to speak to you." he said gravely.

"Of course, sir." Draco Malfoy said.

As they proceeded downstairs, Snape said snidely, "I hope you are enjoying the fruits of your little prank with Potter."

Draco Malfoy sighed, well aware that Snape knew it hadn't gone as planned, "Not really. It didn't go as planned."

"That would be an understatement," Snape said, smirking and looking smug. Which was ordinarily a look Draco liked to see on the old potions master - but this time, well, Snape was laughing at him. And potter, but that went without saying.

Snape and Draco traded other gossip on the way downstairs, discussing prospects without directly mentioning names or allegiances. Draco was pessimistic about Bones, but figured Hopkins was a decent backup. He didn't see anyone in Gryffindor, but Snape shook his head, "Parvati will come along with Padma if you time it right."

At last, they reached the Potion Master's Office, Snape opened the door and Draco waltzed in.

Snape closed the door, and Draco only realized something was wrong when Snape didn't immediately stride over to his desk. Draco restrained himself from whirling, instead looking back to see Snape's unique blend of air and water spells to ensure privacy. Draco instantly knew this was serious, and grew wary. What could be more serious than what they had just been discussing?

Snape, at last, returned to his desk, standing behind it rather than sitting down. "Draco, over the weekend, you mentioned that you'd had a bet with Potter."

"I did, sir," Draco Malfoy said, fighting back the concerned crook of his eyebrows. He was instantly curious about why Snape was taking a personal interest. He couldn't already know, could he?

"What was the nature of said bet?" Snape asked.

"Potter had heard, somewhere, that you had a friend in Gryffindor, of all places," Draco smirked, "The bet was on whether or not that was true."

Snape's eyes seemed, for a moment, to go completely dead, as if he was thinking deeply behind thickly occluded shields.

Then his eyes sharpened, as he asked calmly, "I suppose you asked your mother?"

"Of course, sir," Draco Malfoy said, and couldn't resist probing, "Should I have come to you first, sir?"

Snape sighed, pulling his hair out of his eyes, "No, asking your mother was fine. I don't suppose she told you anything?"

Draco's eyes sliced thin, for a brief second. He doesn't want me to know, and mum didn't want me to know... "No, the note was directed to Potter, who told me I'd lost the bet." Draco turned doe-innocent eyes towards Snape, and asked, "I don't suppose you'd tell me, would you sir?"

"You know me better than that," Snape said, in obvious dismissal. Draco's eyes found Snape's body suspiciously still, and Snape was normally a silent and still person. Something about how he was sitting there, reminded Draco of a crouching feline, ready to spring.

*Wizarding tag uses stinging hexes.

[a/n: And the Penny drops. You'll understand why Draco isn't in trouble in a bit...]