August 1570
I have sent Gretchen away. Yes, I am a selfish bastard, but with all the unrest I need Thelonious to be focused and he can't when the wench won't leave him alone. I know I'm thinking clearer.
August 1570
I went to him tonight, I believe we both needed it. I should have left his bed, but I felt so safe and secure in his arms, that I stayed until morning. I told Helena we stayed up discussing strategy in dealing with the growing Muggle threat. She knows I'm lying to her and I hate that I hurt her again. But I needed him tonight and I believe he needed me.
September 1570
Helena caught us. I do not know what to do. I do not wish to send her away, but I may have to and that troubles me. She would take little Jamie without a doubt. I cannot imagine what this place would be like without his laughter echoing the halls.
September 1570
She said she does not mind. That she is not hurt because she already knew and accepted it. I do not believe her, but I cannot confront her any time soon. I must go and strengthen the wards in the morning. They were almost breached today and I regret not having sent Helena away, even if it would have been for selfish reasons at the time.
September 1570
Helena and Jamie have gone to the Manor with a large contingent of guards. It's my head the populace wants on a pike, so I hope and pray she and Jamie stay safe. I also sent two of my most powerful wizards to ensure the wards on the Manor are secure enough.
Thelonious is here now and I must go. I wish loving him didn't have to hurt so many people, but I do love him.
Harry sighed as he read the last few passages over again twice. He couldn't begin to imagine that type of stress, and it just strengthened his resolve to never resume the crown. He didn't want those kinds of problems, and knowing his luck, he would have them.
He wished he could speak to Thelonious again, or really for the first time. He didn't think the words 'You'll do' counted as a conversation. He still didn't even know what he would do. It made absolutely no sense, and not for the first time that month did he curse Ron for not opening his gob and tell him what he had been told.
Harry flipped back to the empty pages and began to write:
September 1, 1997
I wonder if I'm the only person in the world who feels like they're talking to themselves by writing in a journal. Oh well, I feel like I should fill up these empty pages.
Ron's talking to me and trying to act normal, but I can tell he's hiding something. I know if I bring it up again, we'll just fight, so I guess we'll keep ignoring it. I have a feeling he's told Hermione though, which irritates me.
I have Potions tomorrow with Snape. I'm not sure if I'm looking forward to it or dreading it. I don't know what to make of him anymore. Things were easier when he was a complete bastard. At least then I knew what to expect. Disdain, anger, disappointment. Ever since my 'date' with Draco, he's been weird. Draco called it jealousy, but that can't be it. Can it?
I want to change my name. This one has caused me nothing but trouble.
"Hey," Ron said as he entered the boy's dorm.
"Hey," Harry replied, closing the journal. Despite the fact that nobody but him could see the writing in the journal, he cast a locking charm on it anyway.
Ron fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve and he took a step closer. "Are you really dating Malfoy?" he blurted out.
"Where'd you hear that?" Harry asked, figuring he'd let Ron hang a bit before answering.
"Lavender."
Harry's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Why'd she think that?"
"Well, her family is Pureblood and there's a sort of ranking...and well..."
"What?"
"She would know because she is not too far below on lists of potential candidates after Parkinson and Neville actually."
Harry shook his head. "Ron, start at the beginning. Ranking for what, exactly?"
Ron flushed. "You've only had a letter from Malfoy, right?"
"Not exactly," Harry hedged. "We went out. Sort of."
Ron winced. "You did?"
"Yeah, I did." Harry made a face and shrugged. "It wasn't as bad as it could have been."
"Spare me the details, Harry; I don't want to know them."
Shrugging again, Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "But what does that have to do with ranking?"
"Your date?" Harry nodded. "Malfoy got to go first because of blood status and wealth. If Sirius had ever had a child, that child would have been next in line to ask you out, or even to ask you to marry. It goes on from there."
"And you know this, why?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling panicky. Snape hadn't been kidding when he had said this wasn't going to be easy.
"We might be dirt poor, Harry," Ron said sharply, "but our family is still Pureblood and in some circles we still hold some power."
Harry's face drained of color, "That's not what I meant, Ron."
"Yeah, whatever. I'm going to meet Hermione in the library."
"Ron! I didn't mean it like that."
"Save it, Harry. Just, save it."
Harry's mouth snapped shut and he glared at the redhead's retreating back. "Git."
Ron stiffened, his shoulder muscles tensing, moving again he slammed the door behind him.
A month ago it would have been inconceivable, but today there was no way around it. Harry actually wanted to go and spend time with Snape. At least he would explain this whole rank business to him.
He half expected Hermione to burst through the door at any moment to lecture him on being mean to Ron. Swiping his journal, he flung his legs over his bed and stood. He didn't want to think about Ron's accusation, he didn't want to think about how he was supposed to meet Draco tomorrow to start putting their plan into action. He just wanted to hide, and there was only one place he knew he could.
Harry went to his trunk and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. He was getting a bit too tall for it now, but he didn't mind crouching a bit, just as long as he could get out of the common room without having to answer a million questions.
He was lucky, this time, he doubted the luck would hold for long, and made it through the common room without bumping into anybody. Once out in the hallway, he tugged the cloak off. Curfew didn't occur for about another twenty minutes, just enough time to make it to Snape's quarters.
The halls were surprisingly empty, then again, it was the first night back and everyone was probably in their common rooms catching up. It's where he would normally be if his life hadn't veered onto this bizarre track.
The solitary journey gave him more time to think than he would have liked. He hadn't heard back from Remus since two weeks before and that worried him. He had been receiving two letters every week, short ones, but they at least told him Remus was okay. If Remus had been around, Harry reckoned he would have sought him out now instead of Snape, the perpetrator of most of his problems.
He had a feeling that Snape wasn't going to be pleased to see him, but he really was past the point of caring. If all else failed, he could order the man to let him in. On second thoughts, that would probably be the worst thing he could do.
But it was an option, one he would use if he had to.
Plucking up his nerve, after all, he hadn't done anything to piss off Snape yet today, he knocked on the door.
When the door opened, Snape's face went from irritated, to surprised and irritated.
"You're not one of my Slytherins."
"There once was a good chance I could have been," Harry stated, ducking beneath Snape's arm and entering his room.
"Do come in," Snape muttered, closing the door and following after Harry. "We're no longer at the manor, Potter; you can't just come and go as you please."
Harry arched a brow as he sat down on the sofa, but said nothing.
"What are you doing?" Snape asked, exasperated.
"Sitting on your couch," Harry quipped, setting his journal on his lap.
"Yes, but why are you sitting on my couch? Your common room has a perfectly serviceable couch."
"With plenty of people perfectly willing to talk to me."
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Potter, I will only ask you one more time. Why are you here?" he growled.
"Because Ron hates me, and I won't be able to get the answers I want from him. Like this thing about 'ranking'."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Ranking?"
"I don't get it either," Harry said, gripping the leather-bound journal. "He said it had something to do with the fact that Malfoy got to ask me out first. I really don't understand why."
Snape rolled his eyes. "Ah, that." He sat in the chair across from Harry, resting his elbows on the armrest, steepling his fingers together. "The only people who take that seriously are the Purebloods themselves, and only if it will benefit them somehow. However, I have no doubt the Pureblood families are using the archaic system to jockey for position when it comes to you."
He tapped his bottom lip, studying Harry. "The fact that you chose Draco to focus your attentions is merely a coincidence they will use to foster their belief in the ranking system."
"Of course it is," Harry groaned.
"Are we done now?" Snape asked, not in the mood to discuss the love life Potter should be having.
Harry frowned. "Why are you trying to kick me out?"
"As I told you before, Potter, we are at school, not the manor. It's inappropriate for you to be here."
"I was here during the summer," Harry pointed out.
"Which was completely different. During the summer, school was not in session, I was not your Professor. As such, this," he said, waving his hand around, "is inappropriate."
"Sitting on your couch is inappropriate?" Harry repeated slowly. "What next? Looking at you in the Great Hall?"
"Merlin, Potter, have you no sense of propriety?" Snape sighed, giving up the battle. "Fine, sit on my couch, but under no circumstances do you touch my liquor."
"I think we already established that alcohol and I don't mix well," Harry mumbled.
"You were at the feast, so I assume you've eaten, or do I need to get your elf to bring you something?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Then what are your plans, now that you have invaded my space?"
Harry bit his lip. "Can I crash here tonight?"
"No, absolutely not. Out of the question."
"Please?" Harry begged.
"If you can convince the Headmaster, then you may. Good luck," he added, sneering.
"I really don't want to go back up there tonight," Harry mumbled with a sigh.
"Use my Floo and get permission," Snape reiterated.
"You know he won't give it," Harry snapped.
"Just. Ask."
"You're so infuriating!" Harry stalked over to the fireplace and picked up a handful of Floo powder. He kneeled on the brick base of the fireplace and tossed the handful in before calling out for the Headmaster's office.
"Come in, Harry" a voice called through the Floo.
Harry pulled his head back and stood up, reaching for some more Floo powder, he tossed it in once again calling out: "The headmaster's office!" and vanished from sight.
"Good evening, Harry. I must say, I hadn't expected to see you tonight. What can I do for you, my boy?" Dumbledore asked, smiling.
"Professor, I was wondering if I could sleep on Professor Snape's couch tonight," Harry asked in a rush, before he could let himself back out.
Dumbledore frowned and thought for a good long moment. "As he is your Steward, I see no harm in it. In fact, I think it's a splendid idea!"
Harry laughed, running a hand down his face. "Really? I can?"
"Of course. I'll have an Elf take down what you will need for the evening," Dumbledore said, still smiling. "Was that all, my boy?"
"Yes," Harry answered, still grinning broadly. "Thank you, Professor."
"Have a fine evening, Harry. Feel free to use the Floo to return. I'm sure Professor Snape is eagerly awaiting your arrival."
Harry shook his head and moved back towards the fireplace. Maybe being a Potter wasn't all that bad after all.
He stumbled out of the Floo, landing at Snape's feet.
Snape was scowling at Harry. "You know where the door is. See yourself out."
"I got permission to stay," Harry announced as if he hadn't heard what Snape had said.
"What?" Snape snapped. "What was the old fool thinking!"
Harry couldn't help his next words because he knew the look on Snape's face would be priceless. "Yeah, he's also alright with us sharing your bed. I sleep on the left side, is that a problem?
"He agreed to what!" Snape roared, blotches of red appearing on his cheeks. Harry smirked, but he couldn't stay that nonchalant for long, and after a few seconds peals of laughter echoed around the room.
"I'm kidding!" Harry finally said when his laughter subsided. "Well, not about staying the night, I got permission for that, but we said nothing about the bed."
He flopped back down onto the couch and stretched out across it. "I don't know why you're shirty about this."
Snape's hands were clenched in fists at his side. "I will not be the butt of your jokes, Potter," he snarled through clenched teeth.
Harry sat up rapidly. "Why are you being such a bastard all of the sudden? What did I do wrong?"
"I had to tolerate your father's mockery, I will not tolerate it from you!"
Harry glared at him. "What mockery?"
"Sharing my bed is a great joke to you, isn't? Ha ha," Snape said, sneering.
"You- you confuse me," Harry muttered, raking a hand through his hair.
Snape sighed, his anger deflating. "Why are you here, Potter?" he asked again.
"Because, despite what you clearly think, I do like being around you."
Snape began rubbing his temples. "Merlin, you give me a headache."
"S'your fault for not taking a joke the way jokes are meant to be taken," Harry retorted glumly.
"I am not accustomed to jokes that are not at my expense," Snape said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the chair.
Harry stared at Snape uncertainly, before reaching for the abandoned journal. He wanted to ask Snape what had happened during the day to make him so edgy, but at that point he didn't dare. Taking out his wand, he cast a soft summoning charm for a quill which flew swiftly from a desk in the corner of the room.
Snape opened his eyes, looking at Harry through hooded eyes. "You really plan on sleeping here?"
"It's better here than in the dorm." Harry pressed the nub of the quill against the next blank page in the journal and smiled as ink flowed freely.
"I'll never understand you, Potter," Snape said wearily. "I'm going to my room to read." He summoned a pillow and blanket for Harry. "Goodnight, Potter."
Harry looked up from his writing and smiled. "Night."
Around midnight, Snape decided something was needed to help him sleep, since he was tired of staring at the dark ceiling.
He left his room and found Potter asleep on the couch, his journal open and quill in hand. "Lovely, drip ink all over my couch," he murmured, sliding the quill from limp fingers. The journal was still open, and Snape couldn't resist seeing what Harry had written.
Bending closer, so he wouldn't knock Harry's hands away and make the journal go blank, he began to read.
September 1, 1997
I don't get him at all, and it's not from a lack of trying either. I want to understand him. I really do and it's frustrating that I can't figure the bastard out. He's so hot and cold with me, one minute flirting – that's still strange to think about Snape and flirting – and the next minute shutting down and pushing me away.
What does he want from me? Doesn't he understand that I want him to like me more and I have for over a year now?
Snape stepped back, his brow furrowed in thought. Flirting? Apparently his attempts at subtle seduction hadn't been as subtle as he thought. As for understanding him, Snape wasn't certain the boy ever could. He didn't understand himself half of the time.
It was true; he spent as much time pushing Harry away as he did trying to bring him closer. He sighed. He knew nothing about relationships or how to make them work. His previous relationships had been dysfunctional at best and horrible more often than not.
Snape walked to his bathroom and got a mild sleep potion from the cabinet. He drank it on the way back to his room. Now he just needed it to work before he thought any more about Potter, relationships, or anything else.
The next morning if possible was even more awkward than the night before. Harry clutched the journal close to his chest, eyeing Snape as if he was going to evict him forcibly from his spot on the couch.
"I'm going to breakfast," Snape informed him. "Please do me the courtesy of Flooing to your common room. If you were to be seen leaving my quarters, too many questions would arise.
"Wouldn't Flooing into the common room raise even more?"
"If someone asks, tell them you came from the Headmaster's office," Snape said, shrugging. "Or you can wear that infernal cloak," he said, motioning to the pile of cloth on the floor, "to make your escape."
Harry stood and picked it up, fingering the material. "It's never failed me before."
"It's made my life a living hell," Snape said, disgusted.
Harry's gaze dropped to the floor. "I suppose it did."
"Can you find your way out? I've got to go before my Slytherins hatch a plot at breakfast."
Harry pulled the cloak around his shoulders. "I found my way here, didn't I?"
"Cheeky," Snape said, not unkindly. "I'll see you in class, Potter."
Harry headed towards the door, and called over his shoulder. "Have a good day, sir."
Snape waited until Harry was out the door before saying softly, "You too, Potter."
Sighing, Snape made his way to breakfast before his Slytherins poisoned the Gryffindors' pumpkin juice.