Snape wasn't at breakfast on Saturday morning, not that Harry was surprised, by now. Still it set his nerves on edge, just the wondering. Would he come back? He seemed so... sapped, as if a leech was pulling the life force out of him... Harry tried to reassure himself that Snape knows what he's doing, but Harry had never been able to tell himself that Dumbledore knew what he was doing, let alone Snape.
True to form, if not reality, Draco Malfoy appeared at the Gryffindor table near the end of breakfast. A hush had fallen over the Gryffindor table, and rapidly spread to the others. It wasn't that people had stopped talking, but the volume had dropped to 30%, as everyone echoed their neighbors like sheep.
"Looking forward to your detention today, crybaby?" Draco Malfoy sneered.
Harry sucked in a sharp breath, felt his nails cut into his palms. He doesn't meant it. You know that. Harry looked up at Draco Malfoy, and abruptly determined he wasn't going to be shorter in this encounter. Harry got slowly to his feet, a dark glower imprinted on his ruddy face. An idea broke through Harry's anger - this is an opportunity, don't waste it.
Draco Malfoy seemed to pale at that malevolent sparkle in Potter's eyes. He was too prideful to turn tail and run, simply standing there, expressionless except for the belated vestige of a sneer.
"Have you really shed no tears, Mister Malfoy?" Harry Potter said gravely, "Count yourself lucky, then, and fortunate to boot. Then again, your imprisoned father made it out of Azkaban, didn't he? Not everyone who leaves that place isn't mad, you know."
Harry saw the answering gleam in Draco Malfoy's face, because of course he knew.
"You'll find that your aunt, Bellatrix Black, has painted quite a target on her back. You may not be crying, yet."
Harry heard, almost as an undertone, Malfoy's comment, "No one would grieve her."
"It's war. Death follows like a sunny day after rain, giving the dying peace. It's the living that walk unquietly, in their unseemly grief." Harry Potter's green eyes looked coldly on Malfoy's. "Have a care who you insult when you mock my tears." Harry's eyes sought, and found, Hannah Abbot's, her Hufflepuff blue eyes big and wet with tears.
By the time Harry had turned back, Malfoy had left, leaving a swelling silence in his wake.
Snape's detentions had been predictable, Harry thought. Obtain cauldron, clean cauldron. Rinse, wash, repeat. They were thoroughly mind-numbing, which might have driven Harry crazy if he was the type who had thoughts darting through his mind like silverfish. Instead, he did what he'd always done at the Dursleys, and sunk into the work. It was a deeper level than thinking, an automated state where he could just keep going.
If the summons to the Great Hall, of all places, wasn't a clue that This One Was Different, Harry wasn't sure what would be.
As Harry walked into the Great Hall, he saw Draco Malfoy talking to a third year in Gryffindor colors. That was Jake, wasn't it? He also appeared to be here for detention, as he was nodding along to what Malfoy was saying.
Draco Malfoy looked up as the doors to the Great Hall closed behind Harry. "Potter, you're late."
"Three minutes early," Harry Potter volleyed back, "And you're a liar."
"It took you six years to come to that conclusion?" Malfoy smirked back, completely unphased. "Come along, our former Gamekeeper is holding what we'll need for this detention."
Before leaving, Malfoy turned around and looked at Jake, "Gryff three, do you have this until we get back?" Harry startled at the nickname, and then decided he liked it. He was starting to dimly wonder what Malfoy would have been like, as a person, if the Gryffindors (well, Harry, really) hadn't as much as declared war on him from the moment he stepped into Hogwarts.
"Aye, aye, sir." Jake said, giving a cocky salute.
In stony silence, Draco put on a brutal pace, through the halls of Hogwarts, taking the stairs down three at a time. Harry enjoyed the speed, using his quick reflexes to keep his stability when the staircases started to move. Even Peeves couldn't stop their headlong progress.
As they burst through the doors to the outside, Malfoy send Potter a look, smirking, "Winded yet?"
Harry, grinning, said, "Not on your life!" He'd been running every morning - this was nothing but a bit of deft footwork. Harry was good at footwork.
Halfway to Hagrid's, Malfoy stopped loping, squatting down with his hands on his knees. Was he wheezing? Harry thought, That's overdoing it. you may not train every morning like I do, but you're not that out of shape.
After a moment, Draco Malfoy stood and started walking. Without looking at Harry, he said, "Do you know how difficult it is to find six Gryffindors to give detention to, in just one day?"
Harry Potter asked, "What do you mean?"
Draco Malfoy says, "I only managed two - you and that third year." Draco Malfoy looked back at Potter, smirking a bit, "Guess who gets to make them up?"
Harry Potter looked more incredulous than anything, as if he didn't believe..., "You do? You couldn't have just found some Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs?"
Draco Malfoy said, "Who's in Snape's squad? That's right, Ravenclaws. And Hufflepuffs never do anything that deserves detention."
Harry Potter smirked, "And what happens in Slytherin stays in Slytherin."
Malfoy gave Potter a gentle clout to the head, "You're not supposed to know that, dumb-head."*
Harry laces his hands behind his head, "I'm smart enough to have figured it out." Harry did, actually, feel marginally better knowing that Malfoy was also doing detentions (for his inattention or lack of perspicacity, Harry supposed).
They walked in silence for a while, before reaching Hagrid's hut. Harry watched, curiously, as Draco Malfoy rapped smartly on Hagrid's door. When there was no response, Harry decided to have a go at Draco, "Knock harder or he might not hear you." he advised.
Draco Malfoy knocked hard enough that he woke Fang up. Seeing how Hagrid's door didn't knock, Draco had seconds to move out of the way of the door before getting flattened. Harry had his wand ready to help,just in case.
Draco dodged the door.
Draco didn't dodge the dog. He yelped, and was borne down to the muddy ground.
Hagrid, drawn by all the commotion, said, "He's friendly! Couldn't hurt a fly!"
Harry and Hagrid managed to pull Fang off Draco, who came up sputtering and so muddy he looked like an extremely bedragged cat in need of a warm towel.
Harry used a cleansing charm. He knew that this could actually get a lot worse if Malfoy was left soaked and muddy for an extended period of time. For one, it was awfully undignified. For another, nobody actually liked rolling in the mud.
Not seeming to notice (or care) about the cleansing charm, Hagrid put a hand on both their shoulders, and guided them around to the ... pine trees? Yes, there were in fact eight pine trees, sitting cut - and bundled! behind Hagrid's hut. Harry's quick (if not particularly stealthy), darting look to the side, showed that Malfoy wasn't surprised. He'd done this intentionally, the slimy bugger! Harry's face broke out into a delighted grin. He couldn't really bring himself to be too upset, not when he'd just delighted in pulling rug right out from under Malfoy's feet.
"All cut and ready to go!" Hagrid said, with a booming laugh.
"Take half," Malfoy said, and they levitated them to go back inside.
Malfoy waited in discrete silence until they were well away from Hagrid's hut, or the castle, or anyone who might be listening. "The foundation to a well-told lie, is generally truthful."
"Oh?" Harry asked, in a tone that said academic interest.
Malfoy turned to face Harry, slowing his pace as he kept moving toward the tower. "Potter," Draco Malfoy said like he was suppressing irratation (and, knowing him, he was). "You were crying yesterday."
"That was completely fake." Harry insisted.
"Are you sure about that?" Draco Malfoy said, continuing without enough of a pause for Harry to interject politely. "I hope you enjoy the detention." Malfoy managed to say that in such a soft tone, it was nearly softer than a whisper.
"You gave me a detention to what? Cheer me up?" Harry's hands were balling into fists, even though he really supposed he ought not to be surprised, and he wasn't upset so much as angry.
"Who knows? It might even work." Draco Malfoy said, smirking it up. Harry just knew that was a cover for unease and a soul-deep lack of confidence.
Harry wasn't unduly surprised when they levitated the trees into Hogwarts proper. It wasn't as if there weren't pine trees outside, after all. Where else were you going to put cut ones. When they turned towards the Great Hall, he'd just thought, "Well, that was where we started the detention."
It was only when Draco had waved open the doors, and Harry had seen the tremendous pile of tinsel, ornaments and candles, that he'd finally put it together.
They were decorating Christmas Trees.
In the Great Hall.
For Detention.
"What kind of detention is this?" Harry said, an incredulous grin on his face.
"The useful kind, apparently," Draco Malfoy said in a droll voice. "For the six years I've been here, Snape's always drawn the 'decorate the halls' straw."
Harry smirked, "What, they're afraid if they let him near children, he'll bite straight through all the Holiday cheer?"
"Quite," Draco Malfoy said, as they continued to set up the six trees. "I think he has an aesthetic hatred for the clashing Yuletide colors, honestly. He never shirks Halloween decorating."
Harry, levitating an ornament onto the nearest tree, smirked, "That does seem to fit his personality better, doesn't it?"
Malfoy nodded, helping Jake steady a trail of tinsel, as he ran circles around the nearest tree.
Harry frowned, deep in the safety of his mind. Halloween, for himself alone, had always seemed a bittersweet thing. Yes, people would celebrate him - but his mother had died for his sake, on that day. And that was very much not something worth celebrating. How much worse must it have been to be Severus Snape, bloody bastard? Then Harry shook his head, as something belatedly came to him: Hagrid made the pumpkins, and the House elves made the pumpkin juice. Snape conjured black bats, and black draperies, and all sorts of things appropriate for mourning.
Harry had been experimenting with creating a Hufflepuff tree (the badgers kept on trying to burrow under the tree, which threatened to topple it), when Minerva McGonagall strode in. She sniffed, and said, "Is he shirking again?" To Harry, this seemed both unfair (no one else had to do the job, apparently), and obvious.
"I was in need of a detention, Professor," Jake said, smiling angelically. He pulled the expression off far better than Malfoy, who tended to look like a weasel in full blown psychotic fit.**
Harry looked up, answering evenly, "He's not even in the castle, now is he? Yet, he's found a prefect to cover for his part."
Prof. McGonagall's lips thinned to a line. "That will be 5 points for your exceptional knowledge of a professor's whereabouts, and 3 points off for being a busybody." Harry looked at her, thinking that's exactly how Snape would have done. Because he was watching closely, he saw the Professor's eyes flick to Malfoy. Oh. Harry thought.
Professor McGonagall walked off, shutting the door quietly behind her.
All three boys burst out in spontaneous laughter.
They worked, and Harry decorated as his whims decreed. He'd managed to make a decent Gryffindor tree, and the Ravenclaw one was easy, but the House of Badgers meant that their house animal kept on trying to bury itself under the tree. Harry wasn't going to be able to fix that, not without help.
And there was Malfoy, looking superior and smug. As he wasn't actually laughing, there wasn't much Harry could do about it.
The Snakes were easy, silvery things like patronuses, sparkly to boot, and the green of the tree offset them nicely. Harry wanted to add a bit of red venom dripping from fangs, but reluctantly concluded that would send some second year to test out the venom on some first year's frog. Also, it was a bit morbid.
The other two trees were still standing there, barren as ever, by the time he was done. Jake's ornaments had flown up to various parts of the Great Hall... and no one had done the bloody mistletoe.
"Time's up," Draco Malfoy said, and Jake gave a bow and left.
Leaving Harry standing there, with the knowledge that Malfoy was going to have to do the rest of this himself. "I owe you an apology."
"Then apologize." Draco Malfoy shot back, in a laconic voice that belied the flash of lightning in his eyes.
"How would you like your apology, gentle sir?" Harry said, with a cock-eyed grin.
"Humbly. and with a side of a favor, to be called in later."
"I apologize for making you look the fool, and I apologize again for not consulting you on the plan."
Draco Malfoy blinked, "That's the first time you've ever apologized to me."
"First time I've ever had cause to, really." Harry said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "How many detentions more did you say you had?"
"Four." Draco Malfoy said, "Three now, since I've as good as served one already."
Harry nodded, grinned, and shot off like a bat out of hell. With the way his robes flapped, it was an apt comparison.
Up Up Up, to Gryffindor Tower!
Well, it wasn't the Heaviside layer, although it had certainly seemed that way his first year. Now he wasn't even winded, and he took some genuine pride at that.
Harry burst into the first floor, hoping to find someone who wasn't busy.
The place was empty.
To the library, then! Harry thought, turning around and skidding down the stairs. With luck, Hermione!
Luck wasn't on his side, but Harry did find Luna, who looked up at him with a knowing smile, "How would you like to help with some mistletoe?" Harry asked in one long breath.
"I'd love to," Luna said, "Lead the way."
Draco Malfoy's face was equal parts nothing and everything. It was hilarious, in a way that you wouldn't laugh about.
Wrinkling her nose at Draco, she said simply, "I wish you'd invited me earlier." Luna walked into the Great Hall, and said, "Harry mentioned mistletoe?" Somehow, she'd come with a ceremonial curved knife, even.
Draco Malfoy mouthed, how? at Potter, and then started to instruct Luna, who midway through said, "I think I can just talk with them."
Harry had wanted to create a few pranks with Hermione.
Luna was just off-kilter enough that her enchantment would be a prank in of itself.
Nobody knew, except for Draco Malfoy, and Harry Potter, what they had walked into that night.
Draco and Harry looked like they were going to their deaths.
Harry's was a metaphorical one, of course.
Draco, on the other hand, knew that Snape did actually use human potion ingredients from time to time, and could recite the 107 uses for human blood. At least he wasn't a virgin (thank Pansy!), there were 348 uses for virgin blood.
At least Snape was unlikely to set Draco out to catch a virgin.
Letting Luna Lovegood near the mistletoe was a mistake.
Neither of them knew what she'd done - because she hadn't been casting spells. She'd simply talked at the mistletoe. A lot.
Harry would have sworn that the vine wrapped itself around her hand, at points in time.
Draco was less prone to fancy, but he knew how much Snape detested Luna Lovegood.
Slytherins, in general, were more evenly split. Some admired the daft witch, others hated her.
Theo Nott, in particular, was some curious mix of both. When Goyle ginned up the courage to ask why, Nott had replied, "She knows what she oughtn't."
Draco Malfoy had watched her carefully from that day, and had noticed what Nott meant. He knew, as most of the Ravenclaws still didn't, that Lovegood would have made a fine Slytherin. Ravenclaws didn't actually hold the intelligence to wade through what she was saying. Oddly, Potter of all people seemed most likely to understand her (although the other Oddball of the group, Neville Longbottom, appeared to have been explained into submission. His understanding only crosses the surface, but Luna doesn't seem upset about it, at all).
Draco Malfoy doesn't think Luna Lovegood ever had a true friend in her life, and doesn't think she particularly wants one. Nor, he thinks, contemplative as usual, does she particularly seem to be troubled by the lack.
You could see, if you knew what to look for, the flashes of jealousy on Slytherin faces. Splash in a pan, shades of quicksilver. But they were there. Some wore them looking at the Gryffindors, and others at the Hufflepuffs. Few wore them looking at the Ravenclaws - they were similar enough in temper to get along well enough outside of class.
Ordinarily.
With the Dark Lord on the rise, all friends were reconsidering Slytherin allies. And enough of House Ravenclaw wanted to stay true neutral.
Draco Malfoy could pick out the Slytherins who were most aligned with the Dark, and the Dark Lord in particular (His mother's house had been moderately aligned with the Dark Lord, and had brought the Strength of many Dark Houses to him.) He didn't know, and didn't particularly want to know, about the other houses.
He was a prefect, it was his job to keep his house in line. That meant playing with kid gloves at Hogwarts, and dissuading those with more Gryffindor tendencies, because there was always one.
No, He thought with exasperation, You will not impress the Dark Lord by murdering Harry Potter in his sleep. You have not even the first password, and you just told your plan to your entire year's cadre of boys.
There was always a fool, in every year.
Looking around, Draco hoped his year's wasn't him.
Harry had had a hard time getting to sleep Saturday night. It wasn't like he was playing in the Quiddich game the next day - it was Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw, and promised to be a bit boring. Neither of those teams liked to cheat, or use ruses, or whatever the Gryff/Slyth teams decided to name "bending the rules" today.
And when you got right down to it, Harry just liked being on a broom.
No, no - that wasn't it at all. He'd stared out the window, wondering where Snape was. What he was doing. If even Dumbledore didn't really know what he was doing... Anyone could screw up - and Slytherin plots might be more complicated, but that also meant it was easier to cock it up.*** It wasn't like Harry was waiting for Snape to return - he knew Snape wouldn't be back that day, and he knew he shouldn't worry over the rotten bastard.
Hadn't stopped him though.
He'd woken before the sun, as usual in the growing winter, for a run. He'd eaten, and now, with his broomstick, he felt... strangely sharp. He'd have said focused, if he was entering battle. This wasn't battle, and so the word changed, somehow. Either way, he was glad that the entire school hadn't shown up - mostly just Gryffindors and Slytherins, and Harry had to wonder if Malfoy and himself had finally managed to convince most of the school that there wouldn't be an all-out brawl in the sky.
Of course, that could be why the Slytherins and Gryffindors had shown up.
If there was a brawl in the sky, there quite well could be one in the stands, as well.
The thought brought a grin to Harry's face, and he launched himself into the air.
Let Malfoy find him already in the sky.
Malfoy followed moments later, out the door and into the sky - before even making it to the pitch. Harry had to wonder why they never did that during Quiddich.
Oh, right, you had to shake the other players' hands.
Be 'good sports.'
This was a LOT more fun! The icy wind buffeted them both, but Harry and Malfoy chased the three Snitches (apparently, unlike Quaffles, you could put as many Snitches in the air as possible, and they didn't interact). It made it a different sort of game, when you had three different targets.
Monday Morning.
Harry Potter had gone out for his morning run. Generally, it was a time to think, to improve his muscles, and work on his breathing capacity.
Not today.
Today, Harry had nerves, and the run was a good excuse to tucker himself out. Harry fully intended to keep running until he hit that high, the one that made it feel like every step was on the wind, like you could run the entire day long, and never need to worry about becoming tired.
And then Harry'd do another lap.
By the time Harry stumbled up about a thousand steps to Gryffindor Tower (for once, wishing he was a prefect, for they had a bathroom that was a LOT CLOSER to the ground...), he felt exhausted.
Well, wasn't that what breakfast was for?
A lukewarm shower - the cold was ice this time of year, and Harry was changed and nearly bounding down the stairs. Too tired to bound, really, it looked more like a controlled tumbledown the tricksy steps.
At least he didn't run into anyone.
Harry, for as much as he'd have liked to pretend otherwise, was worried. What if Snape didn't show up? Harry knew Snape was important, but he wasn't sure how highly the man rated in the eyes of Albus "I trust Severus" and Lord V. Harry, actually, wasn't sure if even Bellatrix rated a mention in Lord V's mind...
Harry was quite glad he wasn't sworn to a man such as that.*+*
Harry pushed open the door to the Great Hall. Steady, his gaze landed on the high table.
Snape sat at the end, a simple plate of light pancakes (no bacon) laid out before him. And black coffee of course.
Harry felt only relief. He had, contrary to general belief, learned from his unscheduled trip to the Ministry on the back of a thestral. Rescuing Snape was not only a fool's mission, it was liable to put Harry himself in grave danger. Not to mention anyone he managed to drag into the mess. Ron still wasn't quite the same.
Harry still wasn't completely sure he wouldn't try to help, if pushed to it. He meant to not push the red button, as the saying goes, but sooner or later, he had the curious feeling, the red button would be getting pushed.
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, with Hermione bustling in just after (followed by Neville, who was peppering her with Herbology questions). Harry listened, and tried to take the notes in his head that he'd need to actually beat the Herbology test. It was easier this way, sitting back and listening.
Snape's class was... as close to a study hall as one could get, with the teacher still present in the room (marginally better than Binns, Snape may have looked like death itself, haggard and pale, but Binns was actually already dead, so he wouldn't be getting better). Harry finally had his answer, about why Snape had started having 'ordinary' classes. Snape had simply snapped at them to resume from last time, and then had gone to sprawl in a corner, on a hardbacked wooden chair. Harry knew why Snape had chosen the most uncomfortable chair.
It was the same reason Snape had them in his office: the sheer discomfort would keep him awake.
In detention, Snape had liked leaving Potter in his office, sitting there and dreaming about what horrors he'd have to chop, dice or slay.
And then there were three.
Three people mutely watching Luna Lovegood at suppertime.
Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, and Severus Snape.
Snape was, no surprise, better at it than Draco and Harry combined. Harry caught him stealing quick glances at her. Assessing glances.
Harry himself, found himself wondering how Snape knew about Lovegood's work on the mistletoe. She wouldn't have told him, not outright... That just wasn't Luna's way.
Maybe she'd just wished Snape a Happy Yule, and Snape was letting his paranoia run away with him.
Well, in that case, he was right to be paranoid, just this once. Well, maybe oftener than that - if Harry Potter had plans, Harry was willing to wager that other people did too.
Idly, he grabbed Hermione's textbook away from her (she'd been eating a bite of prime rib).
"Harry!" she said, through her mouthful of food (Victory for Harry! He'd gotten Hermione to talk with her mouth full. Harry knew how much she hated that - she'd told Ron often enough).
Harry, of course, was leaning back, far enough away that she couldn't get to the book without getting up and rounding half the table (they'd sat in the middle) to actually get the book back.
"Why don't I remember any of this?" Harry asked quietly. It was true. This was today's lesson - he had a vague recollection of it. But the time had seemed to dart by like silverfish scattering before - wait, what eats silverfish? Call it a Kingfisher - it sounded nice, even if it was wrong. Sometimes Luna had the right Idea, Harry considered, naming things willy-nilly like she often did.
Hermione got her book back after supper, and Harry continued to try the Charm that he was supposed to have learned in class. It didn't feel like it was any easier than a random spell he'd pick up out of any random book.
Harry really should try paying attention in class. Borrowing Hermione's notes was one thing, but not paying any attention at all? He didn't even have much of an excuse this time. A few weeks ago he'd been busy. Call it true, he'd been frantic. Once again, something had Come Up that required his full attention.
This wasn't that. This was something wrong.
Back in his dorm, back in the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry didn't want to play chess with Ron, or a game of Exploding Snap with Seamus (it didn't matter if anyone else were playing, Seamus had the devil's own luck with the game). He retreated up to his room, opening that old (surprisingly well-treated) Defense book. He was going to study.
Hours later, he looked up, and saw the moon streaming in the window.
Well, that was a relief! at least he could still study, if he put his mind to it.
Harry's Wednesday was Depressingly Ordinary. Which was to say, Snape was still tottering around, though he went to great pains to hide how weak he really was. Harry was quite sure that not even Snape's Slytherins had noticed. He felt confident that Malfoy would have been doing -something- if he'd noticed. Possibly just being more watchful, possibly setting Pansy up as a decent distraction (everyone in Hogwarts knew her Prima Donna Hysterics, and it had taken until this year for Harry to realize they were feigned. Typically Slytherin, that. She hid a fierce and burning ambition to be known as herself, as a person, behind a Girly-girl persona beyond compare. Parvati and Brown, who really were girly-girls, had no hope of comparing.)
Harry knew better than to do such things. He knew that if Snape had one shred of uncertainty in his iron-clad confidence, he'd have not left his room. It was easy enough to call in sick, and Snape never took sick days. Come to think of it, Harry wasn't sure he remembered any of the teachers taking sick days. He should ask the Nurse or Hagrid, they'd know about such things!
Harry had been heading out to Herbology - that was the only reason he was anywhere near the Defense classroom. Cormac was starting a fight with Bletchley. Harry could hear it, and realized it didn't matter who was going to actually start the fight. Snape was going to have to deal with it, and Snape could barely stand.
unless...
Entirely discarding the idea of getting to class on time, Harry dove for the fight, using two rapid-fire Silencios to minimize the damage. They hadn't used anything direly dark, or extremely destructive either.
Not yet.
Harry knew he'd done well, even when Cormac and Bletchley turned as one towards him, fixing heated glares on his person. Harry gulped.
"Well, Mister Potter, it would appear that you have some delusions of being a prefect. How many bludgers have you taken to the head, Potter?"
"None, sir," Harry said, "Although the amount of contact my gob's had with the ground does leave something to be desired."
"Detention, for your arrogance and hubris. Take another for casting spells outside of class." Snape snapped. When Snape got into such a mood, Harry had trouble figuring out if he was upset or not.
"As for this squabble," Snape said, turning to the Gryffindor, "You will be serving detention with Filch. I'm positive he will be delighted to have someone younger and more agile to clean the pipes."
Harry tried to choke back laughter. Cormac was easily twice the girth of Old Man Filch. And being sent into the sewer pipes... that was actually far worse than Snape had ever had even Harry do. Well, Harry tried to choke back laughter, instead it escaped as a snort.
"Did I say something unintentionally amusing, Potter?" Snape drawled out, his tone excessively droll.
"Never, sir." Harry responded.
"Three more detention for your cheek, Potter." Snape snarled. It was only after Snape had said that, that Harry realized he'd called Snape sir, at Hogwarts. Harry wanted to nod acknowledgment, that he understood what Snape was saying, but couldn't.
Following a hunch, Harry turned the opposite way than Cormac (who was bravely fleeing before Snape could take points and assign more detentions), and stood just beyond the corner, waiting for he-knew-not-what.
"And as for you, Bletchley," Snape's tone quieted, and Harry heard no more.
It was enough.
Harry Potter had raced through Thursday - paying attention this time as if the hounds of hell were breathing on his neck.
(Okay, more like if Snape was breathing down his neck. Harry figured Hounds of Hell probably just wanted a nice steaky).
Nerves shot through him, tingles and spikes of excitement that wanted to twist his stomach, but weren't quite that long.
Harry had trouble keeping still, and had to resort to opening up the box of Do Not Think About's.
Do Not Think About
Cedric
Sirius
Mum
Da
There were other people in that box, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, Dudley the doofus - but he never wanted to think about them again, if he could help it. They weren't sad memories, they were aggravating realities. And ones he'd probably be stuck dealing with, again, despite the fact that he would be an adult mid-summer.
He kept his mind on the sad, as if sweet strains of black music were wrapping around his heart.
It worked, somewhat.
He paid attention in class, somewhat.
By the end of class, he was darting outside, not to get a drink, or anything, really, other than to stretch his legs.
That was the thing about Do-Not-Think-About's - when you really didn't want to think about them, they vanished from his mind like wisps of fog before summer sunlight.
Harry would have thought that his friends might have worried about him - and maybe they did, but somehow he didn't think so. Hermione could care less, so long as his homework got done (and done right). She hated being bothered by him and Ron, but... was flattered when she was asked, as well. And Ron? Ron was currently wrapped around Lavender Brown.
Harry didn't need eyes to see that, he had his nose. Every night Ron came home reeking head to tail with her perfume.
He showed up to dinner like clockwork, and that was good enough for everyone, it seemed. Luna sent him a wave as he sat down, and Harry wondered what she was planning. She'd done something with the mistletoe, with the holly, with all the garlands she'd wrapped everywhere. Harry vaguely hoped it wasn't poisonous, whatever she'd done.
A single solitary owl winged over the Gryffindor table. Hedwig.
"Girl, what are you doing here?" Harry cooed, knowing that everyone was watching him, but not especially caring. Hedwig was his friend, and deserved a good scritch behind the ears. And a double-helping of bacon.
He gave her both of those before even looking at the parchment on her foot. It was gayly striped in red and green, which made Harry blink. At Hogwarts, where people wore House colors like muggle urchins wore gang colors, it was rare to see something this... flagrantly unaligned.
Harry opened the paper (glad that, for once, Ron was at the other end of the table - he'd have read over Harry's shoulder) - inside was an emoticon.
o^-^o
-HH-
The twins were here.
Harry stood and strode out of the Great Hall, leaving his entire dinner barely touched. He didn't need to look to know that the entire hall was watching his exit. He especially didn't need to look to know that Snape was watching his disappearance - Snape's eyes had a way of itching, when they were drilling into the back of your head.
The twins were here, a day early. Surely they wouldn't want to sleep in Gryffindor? Were they just here to plot, and gallywag back to Hogsmeade? Sleep at Madame Rosmerta's?
The twins, of all people, knew they needn't tell him where they were. He found the nearest alcove that he dared (he knew, without question, that someone would be following him, so he concentrated on giving them the slip by descending to the dungeons and resurfacing near the Front Coatroom, which made a great place for plotting mischief.
They were at Hagrid's Hut.
That at least made sense.
Harry hadn't even thought to put on his invisibility cloak, that was how disturbed he was by the twins being there a day early.
What else could go wrong? He thought in aggravation.
At least anyone looking at this from the castle proper would just conclude he was going to Hagrid's. Had Hagrid ever invited him for supper?
Maybe Ron would smuggle him out some food?
Probably not.
Hermione though... good, dependable Hermione...
Harry stood at the edge of the now denuded pumpkin patch, and looked around for The Twins. Nothing, until he felt two familiar hands on his two shoulders.
He nearly screamed.
"You didn't think we'd"
"Come here without being a"
"little secret about it?"
"Of course not," Harry said, "I just... didn't expect you to... touch me like that." Harry's face burned as he reviewed what he just said.
"And why wouldn't we?"
"When we're your"
"Secret weapon."
Harry couldn't help but grin at this. "Thank you so much for your help!"
"Anything for a chance -"
"-to prank Snape!"
Harry nodded back.
"Speaking of, your plan made it sound"
"Like you only wanted one of us..."
"We're twins"
"It's a package deal."
Harry's mouth dropped, "But. My cloak, it'll only fit one of you..." If that, Harry privately thought. They were long and lanky Weasleys.
"Figure it out"
"Marauder Junior."
Harry nodded, more absentmindedly, at the twins.
"You can wear the cloak over the top of both of you," Harry said, thinking as he talked, "But that still leaves your legs outside."
"Just need to cover them up, then, right?" One of the twins said, temporarily forgetting that finishing each other's sentences was the best way to confuse people as to which was who.
"Snape knows a dozen detection spells," Harry thought, considering, and then added, "At least."
The twins were smirking at him, delight in their eyes at watching him work.
"but most detection spells look for the heart or the mind." Harry said, "There's very few that will detect a set of legs."
"Better make sure no sharp-eyed Slytherin can just spot us."
"You know, with his eyes."
Harry nodded, "Camoflage! It's what the Muggles use." Harry whirled towards the twins, grinning, "Can you get me two pairs of pants? I'll do them up overnight."
The twins scrambled into Hagrid's hut, pulling out two duffels, and tossing Harry a pair each. "Thanks!" Harry said, "Now I just need to figure out how to get you into the class." Harry nodded, already thinking, taking three steps away, before he whirled back, "Don't let anyone see you."
"Who do you take us for?"
"Amateurs?"
"We're professionals!" the twins disappeared in front of his eyes, with a wink apiece. It was much more comforting than it probably should have been.
It took until Harry was halfway back to the castle before he started to wonder if Hagrid knew he had houseguests.
*+*Ah, yes! Canon-irony!
***Also easier to correct, Harry. Oh, but you'd have had to try making one yourself to know that, wouldn't you? Slytherin schemes are more like nets - you can break a strand without catastrophe.
**Harry's not being fair here, and he's projecting hatred he no longer feels onto Malfoy.
*dumb-head sounds weird in english, but it's a standard german insult.