Sixth Sense

'…he was such a beautiful boy,' Lucius murmured, preening at one of his fondest memories of Draco's childhood.

Narcissa regarded her husband intently. She knew this handsome, proud smile so well. And the story to go with it. Lucius loved to boast with this little anecdote—even more when it started to embarrass Draco.

Lucius had even related that story to the Dark Lord.

To this day, Narcissa wondered if that was the reason why Lucius had never risen to the inner circle of Voldemort.

Because she remembered what really happened. Draco's face, when Lucius snarled at him, forbidding him to repeat the first word her son had ever spoken—saying 'Mum–muh' was uncouth, not befitting a Malfoy, no matter how young he was.

She was to be 'mother'. Never 'Mum' or 'Mummy'.

…and Lucius?

'Sir'.

Narcissa stared at the small black-and-white picture in the Daily Prophet, at the round face of a smiling toddler with Draco's eyes. Her eyes started burning, and she blinked quickly. Her grandson's image wavered and faded before her.

Once more she saw her own precious baby's face, scrunched up and crumpled in despair and confusion. Once more she heard Draco's voice, eagerly mimicking Lucius' endless repetitions of 'sir', 'sir', 'sir'…

Why, she wondered, why was it always all or nothing for her husband?

If only he had not gone directly to his lawyers. If he had at least tried to come to an understanding with his son and the mother of his grandson…

She might have been able to meet her grandson by now. She might know what his voice sounded like. She might tell him that she could be his grandmother.

Or his granny.

Or his gram.

Narcissa raised her head and met her husband's eyes. 'Do not forget that I have—' She caught herself. 'That I love our son, too.'

Lucius' gaze turned icy.

'You do?' he sneered. 'Or you did?'

oooOooo

'Cheers.' Harry raised his glass to Severus.

In previous years, he would have snarled the boy out the door, out of the castle and right into the soft, squishy embrace of the Giant Squid.

Today he only slumped back in his chair and downed his fire-whisky.

The young man on the other side of the table raked both hands through his messy black hair, just the way Severus had seen his father do it countless times, to his immense irritation…It was exactly the same gesture.

And yet it was completely different.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and middle finger of his left hand.

'I…am sorry,' Severus muttered. 'I—should have seen long ago that you are not your father. Or a symbol for my sins.'

'I'm neither. So good of you to notice after a mere 23 years,' Harry stated flatly. 'Look, Hermione's not a saint or made of porcelain. I mean, look at what she made it through! If she tells me she's okay with what you did—mind, she did say how she didn't much like it, but she's okay with it anyway—then I believe her. And so should you.'

Again Harry's hands disappeared into messy tufts of black hair.

Severus decided that he hated the gesture all for its own sake.

'I think I've messed up my marriage,' Harry mumbled.

'And you think I can help you?' Severus asked incredulously.

'Ron's so…awfully happily married.' Harry shrugged. 'And I trust you.'

Severus stared at Harry, while a strange and terrible pressure seemed to squeeze his heart like shrivelfig. 'But—' He suppressed the urge to lick suddenly dry lips or swallow the bile he tasted at the back of his throat.

'Oh, shoot!' Harry exclaimed. 'I didn't mean to imply you're not! Happily married, I mean.' Dryly, he added, 'But you definitely know about unhappiness and messing up. So I figure I can talk to you about the mess I made without you freaking out, you know?'

oooOooo

Half an hour later, Severus impatiently shook his head. 'Though I am loathe to admit it, I sympathize with your reasoning. The execution of your plan, however? Abysmal.'

He gave in to the urge and started pacing the length of his office, relieving some of the tension that had accumulated during the conversation. At last he halted mid-stride and turned to face Harry. Standing still, he shivered, feeling strangely exposed.

As if he was teaching class, wearing nothing beneath his robes but his skin…

All of a sudden he was glad that Harry could not see that in the flickering shadows of the dungeon, between torchlight, firelight and witchlight, one shadow had gone missing once again.

'You cannot keep them safe,' Severus stated coldly. 'Don't you think your father tried to keep you and your mother safe? When Voldemort returns, no one will be safe. Not Ginny, not James-Hermes. Not Hermione. No Muggle, and no witch or wizard will be safe. Do you want them to face their fate as blind as you are? As you were before?'

'But what can they do?' snapped Harry. 'What could they possibly accomplish against Voldemort?'

Severus smirked. 'What could a helpless baby possibly accomplish against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Or a young man destined to die…' He returned to his seat. 'I understand that you are scared, Harry.—So am I.' He took a careful breath. 'Both of us have everything to lose.'

A life. My love. Hermione.

'And Voldemort has everything to gain. Revenge. Power. Life.' Severus shivered, as he always did when his shadow was gone. He ignored his discomfort, concentrating on the young man before him.

'But we are not helpless,' he suggested with more conviction than he actually felt. 'What do you see with your blind eyes, Harry? Why have you refused implants so far?'

Harry exhaled in a sigh, his shoulders slumping in relief. When he turned his face toward Severus, a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

'I see dead people,' Harry said. 'And shadows.'

Suddenly he smirked. 'And maybe even demons.'

oooOooo

A/N: 5 House points for everyone who spots the quote from the movie Sixth Sense.

I hope you enjoyed today's set of episodes!