Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Authors Notes: Many thanks for the kind reviews. I very much appreciate them. Dumbledore telling off Harry during the school year is from HBP, pages 513 and 514, British edition. Great Aunt Tessie, who had the same flowers as Bill, is from GoF. I'm going out of town on Sunday, so you folks might have to wait a bit longer for my next update.

excessivelyperky rocks!. Thanks again for doing what you do so well!

Enjoy

Chapter 26

Spiders and Snakes

By the time Harry arrived back at the beach house, he had almost convinced himself that Snape would be there. It came as quite a letdown when he was not, and neither had Dobby heard from the man. Harry was resistant to the idea of contacting the Headmaster just yet. It was almost as though by doing so he would be admitting that Snape was dead. He paced around the house for a bit and tried to figure out what course of action to follow.

When that proved to be no help, he decided, quite uncharacteristically, to complete the essay Snape had assigned. His hope was that the act of doing so might miraculously bring the man home. Harry silently acknowledged that his behavior was a tad irrational, as he sat down at the dinning room table with parchment, ink, and quill.

Snape had assigned the essay as a challenge, he had said. In truth it wasn't so much so for Harry. He had already read about the Nochebuena potion, and he knew that a substitution of talfgar weed would turn it into a potion called Hablabo. This potion would allow whoever ingested it to do a spot on impersonation of anyone they chose. All they needed to do was picture the other person's face. That was one reason Harry initially thought Snape was assigning the essay as punishment for his rather cheeky impersonation of the Potions Master the night before. Instead Harry realized it was meant to be a bit of a joke, and a challenge, like Snape had said.

Harry wrote about how the color, texture, and consistency of the potion would change, as well as the additional counter clockwise stirring and brewing time it would require. The dosage would be different too. He remembered to mention that the Hablabo potion was often used in conjunction with Polyjuice. In about forty-five minutes he had completed the foot and a half Snape had assigned. Harry decided that perhaps he didn't need to hate essays as much as he used to because he seemed to be getting a bit better at them. He read the thing over once for errors and set it down carefully at Snape's place at the dinning room table as though in quiet offering.

Harry let out a deep sigh and thought about taking a look in the pensieve and a half dozen other things that were sure to cause trouble if Snape were to return. Again, he secretly hoped that such behavior might cause him to return.

After a few more minutes of thought, Harry was feeling more and more like he was putting off the inevitable. He quilled a note to McGonagall and sent it via Fawkes. She wrote him back straight away,insisting again that he return to Hogwarts. Finally, considering that Snape had wanted him to go to the funeral so he could be near McGonagall and the others in case something happened, Harry eventually capitulated. He gathered a few things in a knapsack and summoned Dobby before leaving.

"I'm going out Dobby. Maybe overnight," Harry told the little elf. "Headmistress wants me back at Hogwarts. Is there a way for you to contact me if the Professor shows up?"

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir," the little elf affirmed. Dobby took Harry's right hand in his. He produced a translucent yellow band and wrapped it around both their wrists. Before Harry had the presence of mind to protest or question, the band melted as though into their skin.

"Dobby," Harry asked breathlessly, shaking off a slight tingling in his hand. "Did you just bind yourself to me?" The young man wanted to know.

"No," the elf denied. "Dobby bound you to him."

"I'm not sure I understand the difference," Harry told the elf. He was shaken up by the notion.

"Dobby was freed," the elf explained as though that clarified the issue.

Harry decided it didn't, but neither did he have the energy or time to attempt to understand just now.

"You'll be able to contact me, though, the moment he arrives?" Harry asked, shaking himself lightly as he headed for the door.

"Of course, Master Harry," the elf assured him, as the young man exited the house.

It was not until he arrived in Hogsmeade that he realized the tiny creature had referred to him as "Master."

Harry made his way to the Shrieking Shack and onto the castle grounds. When he arrived in front of the twin gargoyles, he hesitated before giving the password. It was Lemon Verbena. The Headmistress preferred tea rather than sweets, but apparently she and Dumbledore shared a common affinity for lemon. Harry wasn't completely sure why he had come back. McGonagall couldn't have forced him to do so. She probably would try to compel him though, now that he was here, to contact the Headmaster. Harry still didn't think he was up to doing that in her presence. He barely felt up to doing it alone. He slowly made his way past the twin monsters without disturbing their rest.

Almost against his will, his legs carried him up to the Astronomy Tower. He paused in the corner near the entrance, in approximately the same position he had stood frozen on that terrible night all those months ago. Harry had catalogued the memory with the others of its kind: Cedric falling in a flash of awful green, Sirius slipping through the shadowy veil, but for all their horrible similarities, the memories were of simpler times that had felt normal and ordered in a way. He had adored Dumbledore, loathed Snape, and all was right with the world. Now Harry found himself in the bizarre position of being concerned for Snape and a bit apprehensive about speaking to the Headmaster.

The last time he had spoken with him, the old man had been extremely cross. Harsh words from the Headmaster had been more and more common since receiving the Angelth, but if Harry was honest, it had started during the school year. Dumbledore had been clearly displeased, and not shy about showing it, when Harry had failed to put forth much effort in retrieving Slughorn's memory. Then on the night they went after the fake Horcrux, he'd been downright angry when Harry tried to convince him that Draco and Snape were up to something.

"We've discussed this, Harry," Dumbledore had said sounding stern. "I have told you my views."

When Harry had tried to protest further, the older wizard had silenced him immediately.

"Enough..." the Headmaster had warned him. "Please do not suggest I don't take the safety of my students seriously, Harry."

"I didn't," Harry had mumbled, a bit abashed, but Dumbledore cut across him.

"I do not wish to discuss the matter any further,"

Harry let the memory play out before him. He had to admit that what confused him most was that the things Dumbledore was getting after him for now, were the same things he had rewarded him for in the past. From his very first days at Hogwarts Harry had been ferreting out dangerous mysteries and solving them with the help of Ron and Hermione. Why hadn't the Headmaster punished him for going after the Sorcerer's Stone his first year, or even taking on the troll in the girl's bathroom? Hell, it should have been the Headmaster who introduced his arse to Gryffindor's sword when he returned with it from the Chamber after having battled the basilisk. Well, that may be taking things a bit far, Harry thought wryly. But in retrospect, the idea of a twelve year old racing around the bowels of the school after a bloody great snake without so much as an, "I was a bit worried, dear boy..." from the old man, seemed a bit surreal. Instead Dumbledore awarded the house cup, medals for services to the school, and bloody, buggering lemon drops. He never gave any indication that Harry was behaving in any way other than how he should.

At least Snape was consistent. Even with him finding it difficult to dislike Harry as much as he once had, he was consistently snide and harsh. Harry still loved the Headmaster; things hadn't gone that far afield. But perhaps a stern word or two would be easier to take in stride now, if old man had done a bit more to rein him in years before. The only hint Harry could come up with as to the difference in the Headmaster's treatment of him was what the man had said when he got after him about going after Hufflepuff's cup alone.

"The time is past when we can allow you to rush headlong into any situation regarding the demise of Voldemort without sufficient planning, and consensus from Professor Snape or myself," the Headmaster had cautioned sternly via the Angelth.

The time is past...Did that mean it was okay before but wasn't anymore? Harry pondered. According to Snape it had never been okay, and he had always been after Harry for behaving as though the rules didn't apply to him. But how was Harry supposed to act when many of them didn't seem to? Need to go out after curfew? Why don't you just hang on to this invisibility cloak then. Sorcerer's Stone you say? Have at it lad! Have at it! A bit of a jaunt around the Chamber? Here's a sword, dear boy; have fun! Maybe the Headmaster had his reasons. Maybe they were tests of a sort like with the fake Horcrux. But Harry knew he had little chance of learning the truth anytime soon. The Headmaster was just as evasive now as he ever was in life. Some things he would just have to figure out for himself the boy decided, as he reluctantly recalled the night the Headmaster died. As he contemplated the memory Harry now felt more attuned to the subtle differences. Whether they were tricks of memory or simple reality, the boy could hardly be sure. But in recalling the events of the night now, Harry felt certain the Headmaster had been begging Snape to kill him, and he was almost sure he saw a hint of anguish cloud the younger wizard's features before he was able to comply.

Not that Harry would soon get a straight answer from the old man on this. He might from Snape, the boy realized. But that was only if Snape was still alive. With a shuddering breath he leaned himself into the corner where he had hidden that night and released the clasp of the Angelth.

"Harry, my dear boy, how are you?" came the bright, kindly voice as though there had never been a harsh word between them. "It is so very good to speak to you," Harry was relieved by how sincere the man sounded. He had to stop himself from answering that he was "wonderful". For it was indeed wonderful to hear the Headmaster sounding like his old self again.

"Not so good sir," Harry answered instead, but Dumbledore went on as though he disagreed.

"That's not what I hear from Severus, my boy, not what I hear at all."

"You've spoken to Snape," Harry asked catching his breath.

"This morning as a matter of fact," the Headmaster continued in the same amiable tone. "Professor Snape is very pleased with your progress thus far. He was very impressed with your mastery of the Occlumency technique you learned this morning."

"Oh..." Harry said with a frown, realizing Dumbledore didn't know. But the Headmaster misinterpreted the expression.

"Don't look so doubtful, Harry," he told the boy cheerfully. "I know, Severus isn't the best at expressing himself, but I assure you he was extremely pleased."

He expresses himself fine, Harry almost found himself defending the man, which was slightly inconceivable. He stopped himself in time.

"It took Severus a month to master that method," The Headmaster continued. "However, he was often dealing with more complex emotions than you yourself face," the old man opined.

Harry thought back to the image of the Occlumency lesson. The Headmaster had thoroughly humiliated Snape in front of a room full of Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Boy, I'll say, Harry thought. It would have taken more than a bowl of ice cream, and a story about your brother snogging a goat for me to have forgiven you for that.

"He was summoned after he spoke to you Headmaster," Harry said his voice breaking slightly.

"Summoned?" The Headmaster asked, his expression growing alert. "Was he injured?"

"We don't know yet," Harry admitted. "He was summoned before the funeral but ordered me to go ahead. Moody received word that ten Death Eaters had escaped Azkaban this morning and one unidentified DE had been been killed by a disfigurement hex. I haven't heard from Snape since."

"I see. What steps are you considering taking in order to confirm that he is still alive?" the Headmaster asked, his tone serious.

Harry was confused for a moment. Steps? Steps? The Headmaster had been clearly displeased with the steps he had taken to get Hufflepuff's cup. Dumbledore had said...Harry's eyes narrowed for a moment. He had said that Harry needed to have a plan and get it okayed by either himself or Snape. Suddenly Harry was awash with relief. He realized that most of his stress today had been about him thinking he would be forbidden to act. He thought he'd be made to sit on his hands. Apparently not only would he be allowed to act, the Headmaster expected it. A gleam suddenly lit the younger wizard's eyes, and he wasted no time telling the Headmaster about the cloaking spell he had learned from Dobby. He thought maybe he could get to Snape with the Angelth and cloak himself to find out what was going on.

The Headmaster vetoed the idea right away. And like Snape he tended to show a bit of irritation when he thought an idea wasn't very bright.

"You have not mastered this charm, correct?" the Headmaster asked sternly. "You have in fact only been able to replicate it once?" Who would have thought after all these years Snape and the Headmaster could sound so much alike? Of course he wasn't anywhere near as snide as Snape. But then again, Snape wasn't nearly as snide as he used to be. Harry thought back again to the Occlumency lesson and the dressing down he'd seen the Headmaster give Snape in the memory. That was easily something Snape would have done to Harry. Although he would have had Harry in his classroom cleaning cauldrons afterwards, instead of feeding him ice cream. Harry had an inkling that perhaps this was the first time he was actually seeing their true colors.

The Headmaster pointed out, in an unyielding tone, that if Snape had survived and was with Voldemort, Harry's plan would be far too dangerous. Harry didn't care that the Headmaster had shot down his first idea. At least Harry was getting to have his say. Fairly quickly they came up with the plan for Dobby to go in Harry's stead. There was apparently a way that bound elves could hone in on their Masters. The plan was for Dobby to find Snape and report back to Harry regarding his whereabouts and condition.

Harry closed the Angelth with a promise to keep the man posted. Dumbledore had given Harry leave to decide what information was pertinent to share with McGonagall.

As Harry was readying himself to go, Draco opened the Astronomy Tower door with a mighty bang. The blond wizard paced around angrily as Harry covertly watched him from much the same position he had the night Dumbledore was killed. Draco seemed easily as distraught as he had been that night, or at least as much as he had been that day in the toilet with Moaning Myrtle telling him not to cry. Harry had nearly been Crucio'ed when he interrupted the boy that day, and had cursed Malfoy quite dangerously in return. He'd only meant to ask if the boy was all right, but had wound up nearly killing Draco and was sentenced to the balance of the year in detention for his trouble. Harry decided it was best to tread carefully this time and thought vaguely about trying Dobby's cloaking charm.

"Potter," the blond wizard sneered and Harry realized he had paused too long. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Thinking," Harry said easily. He would do his best to keep things light.

"Must hurt, that," Draco insulted.

"It does a bit," Harry admitted, taking a different tack. "Good job not getting caught in any sappy sentimentality about my saving your arse recently by the way," he paused for a beat. "I was actually thinking about how one could get into Voldemort's lair and see if Snape is all right."

That got Malfoy's attention, although Harry knew things were far more complicated for the boy. He not only had to be worried about whether Snape was all right, but what his father's reaction would be once he learned Draco had defected. As Harry thought about this dilemma it made it hard to summon any hatred for the boy.

"What have you come up with so far?" Malfoy asked after a moment.

"Depends on what side you' re on these days," Harry returned easily.

"What would you know about it, Potter?" the boy said sneering again. "You haven't got a father!" he spat.

"True," Harry agreed. "But I had a father," he sneered now a bit as well. "He was willing to die for what he thought was right."

"As is mine," Draco asserted, bearing himself up proudly.

"As is yours," Harry agreed. He hoped he caught the boy off guard by admitting this. "But I didn't decide to follow the same path as my father merely because it was his path. I follow it because it feels right for me."

Draco stared at Potter a long minute.

"It must be hard," Harry said trying not to sound condescending. "Here you've had some doubts recently about the road you were on. And now your dad shows up and you must have doubts again."

When Draco remained silent, Harry continued.

"You don't want to disappoint him, and you don't want him to be mad at you, but still that has little to do with following what you believe," Harry said. "And it's hard to be completely sure if you're doing the right thing to go against him because he believes in what he's doing so strongly."

"Maybe you do know a bit of what it feels like to have a father," Malfoy admitted grudgingly.

"I wish I did," Harry admitted. "But here's where you're lucky," Harry said and paused a moment to make sure he had the boy's attention. "No matter how strongly your father feels, you have Snape's example to look to as well."

"If he's alive," Draco returned after a moment.

"If he's alive," Harry agreed.

"What have you got so far?" the boy asked again.

Harry told him in vague terms about house elves being able to hone in on their masters and the cloaking charm.

"But Snape doesn't own an elf, does he?" Malfoy questioned.

Harry had been apprehensive about mentioning Dobby as Snape had not revealed to the blond boy where Harry would be learning the spells he would be teaching the DA and Draco this year.

Malfoy was still puzzling over the fact that Snape did not have an elf when he suddenly remembered.

"But you do don't you, Potter?" He said. "Sirius Black's elf, I heard from Mother. That might work," the boy said.

"I could use Kreacher?" Harry said, trying not to make it seem a question.

"He's here in the kitchens," Draco went on. "I've seen the beast," he said distastefully.

Harry noted vaguely that he would have bristled if Draco had spoken about Dobby that way. But Kreacher brought a bit of that on himself. He was always angry and unpleasant, and walked about muttering to himself. He was like the Argus Filch of the house elf world.

"All elves are linked indirectly to family members as well," Draco was saying.

"They are?" Harry asked picking up the thread of the explanation.

"House elves are a secure way to send messages among family," Draco affirmed. "So if you were to send your elf under this cloaking charm to find my Aunt Bellatrix..."

"He could wander around and see who else is there!" Harry said brightly as he got to his feet and made for the exit to the Tower.

Once in the kitchens, Harry was careful not to mention to Kreacher that his main interest was in Snape. He told the elf he was to look around and listen as much as he could safely. He mentioned specific names, but gave no indication as to one being more important than any other.

"You are not to reveal yourself to anyone. After you've given a listen to Bellatrix," Harry said with casual firmness, "peek in on Malfoy, Snape, and any one else you might be able to get safely near, and see if you can learn a bit of Voldemort's plans. Draco and Kreacher cringed at the use of Voldemort's name.

"Kreacher is no good at the cloaking charm, Master," the elf complained. "Foul Halfblood Master is making fun of Kreacher," the elf muttered to himself.

Harry wasn't sure the elf wasn't being deliberately difficult.

"Show me, Kreacher," Harry ordered.

Kreacher was able to cloak himself as Dobby could, all except his feet. Harry and Malfoy laughed as big cartoonish feet tramped noisily about the kitchen on their own.

"May Kreacher use the Arachnid charm instead, Master?" Kreacher asked when he had decloaked and the laughter subsided. "Stupid Halfblood Master means to get Kreacher killed by the Dark Lord," the elf muttered loudly.

"Arachnid charm?" Harry asked with interest.

"Yes, Master. Kreacher will turn himself into a spider, and you try to step on him."

Before Harry could protest, Kreacher had disappeared and a medium sized spider sat on the floor before him. Harry quirked an eyebrow at Draco. Mindful not hurt the bug, Harry raised the toe of his trainer just above the little spider, and was immediately thrown back painfully on his bum. If he hadn't known it was Kreacher, he might have assumed he just tripped.

Kreacher popped back into existence.

"Stupid Halfblood Master," he was saying as Harry got to his feet.

"Yes, Kreacher," Harry said ignoring the insult yet again. "Use that charm or any other you are sure will keep you safe. Go now, and report back to me before morning," he ordered.

"Yes, Master," Kreacher said with a slight bow. "Filthy Halfblood, Master," he said when his head was down, and then he disappeared.

"You shouldn't let your elf speak to you that way," Malfoy scolded in an appalled tone.

"He doesn't know I can hear him, I don't think," Harry said, chuckling a bit.

"But you can hear him," Malfoy pointed out, clearly upset by the elf's behavior. "A wizard shouldn't be spoken to that way by an elf," he said haughtily.

"No?" Harry said, nicking a scone from a basket that had suddenly sparkled into existence with a pot of tea. "What should I do about it?"

Malfoy had numerous suggestions. While Harry didn't approve of any of them, several made him laugh.

While Harry munched on a second scone, he thought that he couldn't wait to have Dobby show him the Arachnid charm. He wondered for a moment if the Headmaster would disagree with him sending Kreacher in Dobby's stead. He decided that he probably wouldn't care so long as Harry had not unnecessarily endangered himself. Harry had to admit that he was more willing to risk Kreacher than Dobby. Also, it would potentially be safer for Snape. If Kreacher were to be discovered, no one would be able to determine that the main goal was Snape.

"Do you want to go with me to report to the Headmistress?" Harry asked when they had polished of the scones.

"No, thank you, Potter," Malfoy responded stiffly.

"Why not?" Harry wanted to know.

"I am quite certain the Headmistress would appreciate visiting with one of her precious Gryffindolts alone," Draco insisted.

Harry cocked his head oddly to one side.

"Gryffindolts?" he asked quirking an eyebrow. "Is that what you lot call us?"

"Among other things," Draco acknowledged. "What do you call us?"

"Snakes," Harry said after thinking about it for a moment.

"Indeed, Potter," he said dryly. "We call ourselves that."

Harry shrugged.

"I suppose there is no need for derogatory pet names, when the name of the House itself is often said as though it were synonymous with filth." Draco said venomously.

Harry cocked his head to the side again as though he was a bit confused.

"This could be a long and interesting conversation," he said slowly. "And I'm not completely sure how it started..."

"Go ahead, Potter. I've seen the Headmistress once today; it was quite enough." Draco said haughtily. "She was kind enough to invite me up to her office to inform me of the prison break. I spoke to her a few minutes before I saw you on the Tower."

"Look, Malfoy," Harry began, thinking about how angry Draco had seemed when he arrived at the Tower. "I'm not sure what she said to you, but I am certain she was only trying to help."

"Oh, I'm certain she was too," Malfoy said flatly. "It was rather heartfelt, and something along the lines of 'Mr. Malfoy do you really wish to be a Slytherin the rest of your life?'" He let out a rather mirthless laugh. "She said it as though it were a rather vile thing to aspire to."

Harry was silent for a moment, so he could choose his words with care.

"Malfoy I'm certain she didn't mean it the way it..." Harry began.

"No, I'm certain she didn't either, Potter," Malfoy said in the same detached tone. "No one at this bloody school ever does. It's just that sometimes I'm up to dealing with the stupidity and sometimes I am not."

"Well if you feel that way, I don't see why you saved her during the battle," Harry said thinking about how Malfoy had risked himself to protect the Headmistress on Privet Drive.

"Just because one is ignorant doesn't mean they deserve to die, Potter," Malfoy pointed out. "You don't have to be a Gryffindunce to figure that out."

"That's another one of those pet names, is it?" Harry asked mildly.

"Snape's favorite," Malfoy admitted.

"Pity he never used it in class," Harry intoned dryly. "It's a riot."

"Well, he couldn't risk insulting the precious lions so blatantly. The Headmaster and your Head of House never would have stood still for that." Malfoy purred.

"Are you mad?" Harry exploded incredulously. "Talk about putting a derogatory spin on a House name. Snape said the word Gryffindor like it was synonymous with moron. He couldn't risk insulting us?" Harry ranted. "All he ever did was take points and assign detentions. And he never did a bloody thing to you lot."

"Points are for sissies, Potter." Draco said in a bored tone. "Try cleaning all the castle toilets without magic in the middle of the night or being forced to work with the house elves for a month. Or how about his absolute favorite, the hundred-feet-of-parchment-torture?"

"Hundred feet of parchment?" Harry questioned.

"I must not disgrace Slytherin House," Malfoy quoted. " One hundred feet, and forced to report straight to your dorm room every night after dinner until it was done. Points, Potter?" Malfoy said again. "We begged him to take points."

"But he never even acted like he was mad at you lot," Harry replied bewildered, though it didn't seem likely Malfoy was lying.

"Well, it never escaped our notice. We quickly learned to read those oh so subtle cues. Everything he even suspected us of in his classroom, and Merlin help us if we got in trouble with another teacher, was paid for dearly in this dungeon."

"On the surface it always seemed like he favored you." Harry really didn't know what to make of this revelation.

"He did, Potter," Malfoy said as though he were a bit slow. "He was trying to make up for us being treated like trash by the rest of the school, but that didn't mean he let us run around like a pack of unruly Gryffindimwitts."

"His?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, he loved that one," Malfoy acknowledged. "His rule was to never humiliate us in public, and he'd go straight dark wizard if we ever embarrassed him. That's why you hardly ever see us acting out in any class, but his."

"I never looked at it like you guys were being treated like trash by the rest of the school," Harry admitted.

"That's because you probably never considered it at all. People say bigoted things about Slytherins all the time and never give it a second thought. Like the myth that all dark wizard's are from Slytherin House," Malfoy spat. "Hell, there are thirteen Gryffs in the Dark Lord's circle right now, not to mention the Ravens and Huffs."

Harry was a bit taken back by that assertion. But he had to admit Malfoy was in a good position to know.

"Look you've given me a lot to think about," Harry admitted. "And I promise I will think about it. But for now why don't you just come and report to McGonagall's with me," he said. "I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear how much you helped with the Kreacher thing..."

"I have no desire to please her, Potter," Draco said angrily. "I couldn't if I did have. Do I always want to be a Slytherin?" He mimicked. "As though that were wrong. As though she'd ever deign to view me as anything else."

"Fine," Harry returned hotly. "Come with me and throw it in her face, then. Show her she's wrong about Slytherin. Prove she's wrong to think the way she does." Harry wasn't sure why it was so important for the blond boy to come with him all of a sudden, but he was very relieved when Draco followed him from the kitchen.

"I was wondering when you would find your way up here," McGonagall observed sternly when the two younger wizards made their way into her office. "You arrived better than a forty minutes ago, Potter."

"I spent a few minutes discussing things with your old friend first," Harry pointed out, knowing she would pick up on the code.

"I see," she returned tartly as she ushered them into chairs. "Biscuit?" she said, offering some from a colorful floral tin.

"No, thank you, Headmistress," Malfoy replied.

At the same time Harry said, "Thanks," and stuck his hand into the can.

"We've only just consumed an enormous quantity of scones down in the kitchens," Malfoy explained, still addressing himself to McGonagall.

At the same time Harry said, "Ginger lemon," a bit defensively and popped the biscuit in his mouth.

Harry silently indicated that Malfoy should speak as his mouth was full.

With an arrogant sneer worthy of Snape, Draco spent the next a few minutes apprising McGonagall of the errand they had sent Kreacher on.

"Well," McGonagall said, her face a bit flushed by the time he was done. "It seems as though you two young men have things well in hand. Do keep me informed as to what you find out."

"But of course, Headmistress," Draco agreed with an slight incline of his head. The boy spun on his heel to go, and Harry could have sworn his cloak lifted five inches at the boot. Harry wondered vaguely if the Slytherins took billowing and swishing lessons from Snape.

Before Harry could make a dramatic exit with Malfoy, the Headmistress said she expected him to stay the night at the castle at least.

"I've already alerted several Order members as to the need for extra security here at the castle," she told him. I'd appreciate if you find somewhere to bunk in the dungeons as the extra security is for Mr. Malfoy as well, and I don't wish people to be spread too thin."

That night while Harry slept on Gregory Goyle's four-poster, he dreamt of the Riddle family graveyard where he had been portkeyed after the third Triwizard task. Instead of Cedric falling beneath Wormtail's wand, there were ten Death Eaters gathered around a cauldron. Voldemort slowly rose from it, and his wraith-like arms began to multiply and form the upper portion of a tree. The gnarled, arm-like branches seemed brittle with death. Voldemort's body formed the knot riddled trunk, and thin, skeletal feet stretched as claw-like toes dug deeper into the ground.

"Who will spread his remains?" it was Lucius Malfoy's voice and Harry realized with a start he was holding the little floral canister from McGonagall's office. "Severus had no next of kin," the blond man was saying.

"I'll do it." Harry began in a shaky voice "Unless you want to, Draco?" he asked the boy beside him, startling the assembled masked figures.

"I'm sure I couldn't manage, Potter," Draco said indicating the floral tin. "They might be ginger lemon."

"Potter," Lucius intoned in and oily voice. "But of course, " he proffered the floral tin to Harry who took it with a trembling hand. It was not ginger biscuits, but uneven gray ashes, and the boy began to spread them clumsily among the toe-like roots of the tree. The Voldemort tree began to bloom gray, wilted flowers that smelled of mold and sulfur.

"What are these flowers called?" Harry asked as he curled his nose in horror letting the canister tumble from his hand.

"Death Eaters," Lucius said with and evil grin, and he threw back his head and laughed.

Harry awoke in a cold sweat. Mindful not to wake Draco, he stumbled into the Slytherin Common Room. Making his way to one of the couches, he sat down and pulled his knees up to his chest. He took a few cleansing breaths and pushed the image of Lucius Malfoy, the Voldemort tree, and any thought that Snape was anything other than alive and well from his mind. The ghastly tree was proving a hard image to banish and Harry forced himself instead concentrate on the Weasley family tree, which had bloomed vibrant and beautiful flowers for Bill.

After Ginny had spread Bill's ashes at the funeral, Harry had wanted to approach her and offer what comfort he could, but the awkwardness of their brief relationship still hung heavily between them. Harry had tried to approach her earlier when she was with Ron. But his best friend needed him more. In an abrupt burst of grief, Ron had buried his head in Harry's chest and wept pitifully. Harry felt awed by the task of offering comfort to the boy, but soon found himself gently patting the heaving back even as Ginny stroked his red head. Ginny and Harry's eyes met, but their concern at the moment was Ron, as each did what they could to quell his anguish.

"Bill, " the red headed boy said again and again until he finally gained back a bit of control. And as one might distract an upset child, Harry asked the boy to tell him about the family tree.

Harry had finally screwed up the nerve to approach Ginny again as the circle around the tree began to break.

"What are they called, Gin?" he asked by way of opening indicating the flowers that had bloomed for Bill. They smelled richly of honey.

"I dunno," the girl said, and although her eyes were red rimmed, she sported that same easy smile Harry had fallen for. "But they look a bit like the ones that bloom for my Great Aunt Tessie." Harry thought of of Ron. The red headed boy had complained pathetically that he looked like a Great Aunt Tessie in his dress robes third year. Ginny and Harry shared a laugh and then their eyes misted slightly, as they had come together for a brief hug before the twins came to drag him away to torture Percy. And Harry realized there were some things he wouldn't be able to recapture.

Harry pushed himself up sleepily from the couch in the Slytherin Common Room and made his way to the boy's toilets. After splashing water on his face for the third time, Harry was ready to return. Upon exiting he heard voices approaching, and an instinct of self-preservation made him push himself into a dark corner. Harry decided quickly that his instinct may have been in error, when he found himself an unwilling eavesdropper on a very private conversation between Remus and Tonks.

"It won't work between us, love," Remus was saying gently. "You know I've tried to see it your way."

"No, I guess it won't," Tonks said sounding tearful. "I've tried for over a year. I guess I'm beginning to understand it will never work for you."

"I wouldn't hurt you for the world, Tonks," Remus whispered kindly.

"Too late," she intoned, her words playful and poignant both.

"I'll just make my way down to the other end, shall I?" Remus said, and after a few moments Harry heard his footsteps receding.

After a few more moments of silence, Tonks' footsteps moved off a bit as well, and Harry was able to sneak unobserved back into the Common Room. What a fool Remus is, Harry thought a bit angrily. Why would anyone do that to Tonks?. Harry had developed an immediate liking for the woman the first time he had seen her, and if he was honest it was a bit of a crush. Unlike with Ginny, any secret dream of Tonks, rather than being something he couldn't recapture, was something he could never hope to attain.

Harry made his way back to the dorm room, and this time he did wake up Malfoy with the startled scream he emitted as he opened the door. He couldn't help it really, as Kreacher had startled him by popping into the room just as Harry entered.

"Filthy Halfblood Master, Mr. Malfoy," the elf said with a formal bow. "Kreacher is ready to make his report."

"Let me hex him for you, Potter," Malfoy said coming to wakefulness. "You can't believe he's not aware of what he's saying."

"I think he's a nutter, Malfoy," Harry said impatiently. "Lets get his report first."

"Filthy Halfblood Master might allow young Mr. Malfoy to punish Kreacher properly," the elf muttered warily. "Kreacher had better mind his tongue."

Harry had to stop Malfoy from drawing his wand.

"Take it easy, Malfoy," Harry said restraining the boy. "What do I care? I'm not a Halfblood anyway. Both my parents were magical. Though my mother was a Muggleborn. What does that make me?" Harry asked the blond boy sincerely.

"Ridiculous," Malfoy said by way of answer. "Now tell your elf to proceed," he ordered haughtily.

Harry sat down on the edge of Goyle's four-poster.

"Proceed, Kreacher," Harry commanded, trying to match Malfoy's tone.

Hope you enjoyed it! Don't forget to review!

The end of this chapter has been altered slightly since it was first posted.

Chapter 27

The Age of Independence

"I'm not sure where Potter is, sir," Draco responded more loudly than there was need. It did nothing to drown out the sound of giggles that emitted from the girls dormitory.

"What's going on here, Mr. Malfoy? Lupin asked sternly as he gave the locked door a tug.

"Please, sir," Malfoy said, putting himself between Lupin and the door, "I wouldn't go in there if I were you."

"Alohomora," Lupin commanded, shifting Draco to one side.