A/n: I'm so horribly, incredibly, unforgivably sorry! Yes I know I haven't posted in what seems to me like a very very long time. So I offer all my sincerest apologies, and hope that you will forgive me anyway and still show me your support. I've felt guilty every day that I didn't write and post. Not just to you guys, but to me too. I feel like I let myself down just as much.

So, as explanations I only have the usual 'my life got into a gear change this last month' and I didn't have the time or inspiration to get much farther.

Also, I had a few more things planned for the end of Nevar and the transition to Snow, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to let some details go. I just really feel that I'm ready for the next part. I don't feel like writing about their childhood too much anymore, I've been practically 9 months at it already, enough!

So here are some last bits and pieces I had left. It's not so coherent, but I hope it's still good.

Important: There will be one final chapter after this one, to lead into the second part of the story 'Snow'. I haven't written it yet, so be patient :s And then it's up to part two, yeaaaaaaah! I'm excited! :D


Chapter 32.

Up in Smoke

The door to the changing room opened abruptly, making everyone scuttle away and busy themselves with seemingly innocent tasks. Smoke was waved away, dissipating into the air; orange cigarette buds were shoved into pockets; and before Oliver had walked around the lockers all evidence of anyone smoking had disappeared.

Except for one thing. It was clear from the grimace that covered their captain's features immediately after he joined their corner of the room that the smell was still faintly present around them. Everyone pretended not to notice as Oliver's gaze fell on each of them in turn.

Harry could feel his heart beat against his ribcage. To make matters worse, his throat was raspy and burning and he had the pressing urge to cough. He turned away to hide his attempt at suppressing that urge, but it only made him the target of Oliver's suspicions. Until he could no longer hold it and he coughed up the smoke, some of it coming out through his nose.

The second it was out he heard Ron do the same. The redhead's face looked as if he'd been trying to keep a frog from jumping out his mouth all this time.

"Harry! Ron!" Oliver burst out at once. The first-years hung their heads in shame. But Oliver was already looking around at the other players, accusing them all, because he did not know whom to hold responsible. "Who gave them the cigarettes?" He demanded of them.

No one spoke. The changing room otherwise filled with chatter and noise was deadly silent.

"Really?" Oliver fumed. "No one?"

Not one pair of eyes dared to meet those sky-blue orbs that all the girls in school were fainting for. The captain gritted his teeth. He did not want to ask the two little ones who it had been. Members snitching on each other was the worst thing that could happen to a sports team. He could not put them in that position. The team's trust would be broken.

"I know someone gave them those fags. If no one will step forward, fine. But I'm truly disappointed in every one of you. We're a team, guys! We look out for each other! Especially the fresh ones." The tall leader nodded towards Harry and Ron, who were still fixedly staring at their shoes and coughing from time to time to get rid of the last burning sensations. "I don't care if you smoke…well, actually I do care. You know you can get expelled for this. And it seriously damages your lung capacity and endurance for the games. But if you can keep performing, and if you make sure you're not seen, fine. It's your choice. But don't contaminate the little ones with your shite!" And with that he signed for Harry and Ron to follow him and stormed out of the room.

The walk from the pitch to the dormitory was hurried, cold and awkward. The team captain was bursting ahead, making it hard for the smaller boys to keep up with his long strides. Half-running, they managed though. The wind was battering from behind and it gave them some momentum, and some icy droplets in their necks.

"Listen." Oliver turned grave once the three of them were back in the dorms in his room. "I can understand that it's hard to say no to a bunch of older guys, that you might think they look cool smoking, that you want to be accepted by the team, or whichever the reason was to bring you two to do something so foolish." Harry and Ron both winced at the words. They felt more stupid than they'd ever done in their lives. "That's why I won't suspend you from the team, or punish you. Besides, if I did I would have to justify my decision to McGonagall and that would bring you both in more trouble than you wish to have." They cringed again, realizing just how dangerous a game they'd played.

"Thank you." The raven spoke, but barely managing more than a broken whisper. He was so mortified. Ron nodded his assent.

"Don't mention it." Oliver said, and a twitch of the lip betrayed his smile. "Now you know that you can count on me, that I'll look out for you. So if anything like this happens again, or if any other problem should arise, you come to me. All right? Don't do that shite again, it'll kill you."


"You should've come to me!" Draco scolded them that night at the Fat Lady, making them all jump, including Hermione who had nothing to do with it.

"What could you have done?" Ron wondered aloud, not so intimidated by Draco as he'd been by the much taller and broader Oliver.

"I've been here longer than you, Weasley." The third-year snapped at Ron. He was used to calling him 'Weasley' whenever the redhead irritated him. "I've got experience."

Harry thought Hermione had been looking unusually quiet. He'd expected her to be scolding them, and lecturing about the risks of them being expelled. But when Draco spoke of his 'experience', she clearly heard something behind it that he hadn't. Her forehead wrinkled in a frown.

"What did you do?" She immediately asked. Her tone was just slightly accusing.

Draco hesitated for a moment. Then his heart reminded him that the three people surrounding him were the ones he trusted most in the world. More than any other friend he had in the school.

"It's not unusual, you know, for older guys to mess around with us." He began hesitantly, not certain if admitting these things would make him look good or bad. "They wonder if they can get us to do things. They did it to me too when Lewis and I went to a gathering one night in a fifth years' room. The fifth years had grass and…"

"You did weed?" Ron blurted out rather loudly.

"Yes, Weasley." Draco hissed through his teeth. Visibly irritated again. "I 'cut the grass'. Why don't you shout it a little louder next time. I don't think the nurse on third heard you clearly."

"Blimey." Ron breathed, shaking his head slightly. "Mum would kill me. Bill once came home after midnight and mum went ballistic. Charlie told me that it was because Bill had smoked Mary Jane, but I had no idea at the time what that meant. I couldn't stop imagining Bill throwing smoke bombs at a girl named Mary Jane. That was really weird."

Everyone stared blankly at Ron, wondering where this random newsflash had come from. But there was something much more important to be discussed.

"Does your mum know?" Hermione came back to the original subject, turning back to Draco.

"Yeah." The blonde sighed and grunted at once. "Siberia caught me when I did it a second time by the tree line with the same fifth years, and a few girls from fourth year. She called my mother and she gave me detention for an entire term."

"That's why you barely wrote to me that time!" Harry exclaimed, remembering the few months a year before. He had been a little depressed at the time when he regularly returned from the library in disappointment at not finding any new mails in his inbox. Draco's only explanation afterwards had been that he'd been 'busy'.

Grey eyes flashed at the raven. It wasn't aggressive, it wasn't a threat. But it was a warning nonetheless, a warning not to press the subject. Harry understood that if he wanted to know more, he'd have to ask him when they were alone again sometime.

"Anyway, if any of the teachers catch you with a fag, whether it's grass or whichever, you're toast. With some luck you might not be expelled, but you're certain to be suspended."

"It doesn't even taste good." Ron grumbled. But there was a kind of glint in his eyes, which only Hermione noticed. And she knew that Ron would tell this story to his brothers with pride, and very probably a few embellishments to his advantage. After all, Ron had Fred and George and Bill and Charlie to compete with, all of whom were generally thought to be really cool.

The bushy-haired girl sighed, thinking that as long as Ron just talked and boasted but didn't do anything stupid anymore, it should be fine. Nevertheless, she made a mental note to write or call Ginny soon. Maybe tell her some of this. She was the wise one among the Weasley nest of boys and she had more than enough ability to keep them in line.


It happened just before the weather began turning warmer. The days were growing longer, the mornings were more pleasant because the sun rose around breakfast time. But when it was time to wake up, the two boys, a white head and a black head, were still engulfed in darkness.

The older boy usually wrapped around the younger one to hold him warm, they emerged together from their deepest sleep. It had become a ritual, and it was unpleasant when they weren't able to wake up next to each other.

That day in march was no different. Not in the morning. But at lunch, an uncomfortable feeling began penetrating Harry to his core when Hermione was absent from the dining hall. Draco was with his own friends, so Ron was the only one there to reassure him, but the redhead wasn't exactly good with those kinds of words and seemed a little puzzled himself. If their best friend had decided to spend lunch time in the library, she would've told them, as she always did whenever it happened. And even then, she usually came to lunch and gobbled it all down in the space of a few minutes. She didn't skip meals, she was too attached to following the rules to do so.

In the late afternoon, during Harry and Ron's biology lesson, a noise was heard in the hallway. There were hurried footsteps and calls.

"Through here! And get me some heating blankets!"

Immediately, everyone recognized madam Pomfrey's voice. She was the nurse in the boy's dorms, but also worked half of the week during the day at the day infirmary for both girls and boys. The teacher had trouble keeping the class concentrated on the blackboard at the front of the class which had a badly drawn picture of a bird's internal organs on it.

For Harry and Ron, it was much worse than just a distraction. The raven was inexplicably convinced that it had something to do with Hermione, that something was wrong with her, and the redhead understood when Harry threw him a nervous glance.

Together, and without heeding the uncertain calls and warnings for detention from the teacher, they packed their bags and left the classroom, breaking into a run halfway through the corridor to get to the infirmary.

"What's this? Go back to your class immediately!" The second nurse who worked in the girl's dormitory stopped them with a shaking head when they attempted to enter the sick room. Just the fact that she was here told Harry that this was a more serious case, something Madam Pomfrey couldn't handle alone…

"I'm sorry, but I need to know who it is that's in there." Harry began in the most polite voice he could muster.

"Such information is not yours to have, young man!" She responded severely, thrusting her nose into the air. She was much more unpleasant than Madam Pomfrey, the boys thought.

"Please!" Ron came forward before Harry could do it. "If it's our friend, we need to know if she's in trouble!"

"How do you know it's your friend?" The woman asked, looking a little mollified by Ron's sincere worry.

"We didn't see her since breakfast." Harry explained. "It's not like her to skip a meal. We know she had a school outing to the woods today with the girls' school, but they were supposed to be back by noon."

"What is your friend's name?" The nurse asked to check if this wasn't just a trick to skip class.

"Hermione Granger." They said at the same time.

The nurse sighed deeply, finally accepting the boys' explanation. "She was missing when everyone reassembled at school after the outing. She's broken her ankle on a protruding tree root and was stuck in the woods for several hours. She was in hypothermia when they found her, but she'll quickly recover from it." She attempted to reassure them.

But it was far from having any effect. Harry and Ron's mouths fell open wide and nothing could have stopped them now from pushing past the nurse and into the infirmary, to found the girl with bushy hair that they knew, but with a sickly white-blue hue and purple lips, sleeping on one of the beds, covered in a least a dozen blankets.

Madam Pomfrey was fussing over her, going back and forth to bring one thing or another and adjust the blankets so that not an inch of Hermione's skin was left uncovered, taking her temperature every few minutes. She looked very stressed, and it didn't help to put the boys at ease.

"What are you boys doing here?" She asked, but she didn't seem to have the energy to berate them.

"Is she going to be all right?" Was the first question that escaped Ron's lips as they rushed to the sleeping girl's side.

"Of course, Mr. Weasley." The motherly woman snapped, apparently a little annoyed that her abilities as a healer were being questioned. "This is hardly an incurable disease. Though if she'd been left outside in this dreadful weather for an hour longer, there could have been more complications."

It had looked to be a horrible afternoon at first, but in the end, it was quite all right. There were definite plus sides in this situation.

First of all, finally the reason for Hermione's sometimes strange behaviour and her sudden problems with tests and homework came to light. The incident in the forest had in fact been an exacerbation of the same. It came to light because she was supposed to have been in a group with other girls to perform their inquiries in the nearby forest, but when she tripped and broke her ankle the girls left her alone and then lied about her absence to the teachers, making them think that all the students were reunited.

And thanks to Madam Pomfrey's insistent indignation and questioning, the young girl was forced in the end to tell them about the long string of bullying she had been a victim of since the start of school in September. The group of girls were part of the clique with Parkinson, who had difficulty digesting the fact that even Hermione had more contact with Draco these days than her.

That was a piece of information that did not go well with Draco when he heard about Harry and Ron's escape from class and joined them in the infirmary after school was out. Not the type to care much about girl rivalry, he usually never got in between things, but he was protective of his 'herd'.

The young Malfoy may be a little arrogant and acting superior, but he also took the responsibility that came with it, and he intended very much to be the leader and so the protector and guide. Whatever he could, he would do.

And the fact that Hermione and Camille Noir seemed to like each other wasn't strange to the affair either. Hermione was important to the girl he liked, important to his best friend in the whole wide world, and to himself too. There was no way anyone could touch her without fearing the consequences.


3 years later


They had now progressed to symbolism in literature. A period of 'poetes maudits', isolated from society.

"Verlaine and Rimbaud." Severa Snape announced to her class of sixth-year European Literature. "Two names among the symbolist poets united by a stormy relationship. And yes," she added, "by this I mean a homosexual relationship."

Severa carefully observed her students while she continued to lecture about the talented duo. None dared to openly express their thoughts. Some giggled behind their books, others wore an expression of mild disgust. Some tried to ignore the strange atmosphere that had settled in the classroom, and others merely looked curious.

"Rimbaud was just seventeen when the twenty-seven-year old Verlaine left his family for him, and they came to live together in London…" Severa was curious about her nephew, Draco. The young adolescent had started throwing glances at his dark-haired friend from under his bangs more often than usual during classes. It was a somewhat surprising change. And he was doing it again now, fixing his dark-haired friend from the corner of his eye, but well visible from her point of view.

The Potter-boy on the other hand was staring intently at the pictures of the two poets in his book, as if trying to understand the attraction between them. He seemed fascinated by the information. Severa decided to put him in the 'curious department'. But Draco, she wasn't sure what to make of him. She'd expected an insulting sneer, or at the very least a sarcastic remark.

Another change in him that she hadn't anticipated.

Draco couldn't exactly be called mature, far from it. His adventures outside the school rulebook and even the law were recurrent, though never that serious. Severa had her hands full in keeping him in check while he was away from his mother.

But the change that did work to her advantage, though it was not to her taste, was that her nephew had become softer, more tolerant. He had lost quite a deal of his haughtiness and rudeness. The severe woman had the tendency to view it more as a weakness, but Narcissa seemed quite pleased with it, and eager to attribute the change to the good influence of his three best friends, so Severa refrained from trying to right that particular wrong.

If it meant less interventions and worries, it was good enough. It wasn't her son after all. She had other things to tend to.

Still, the growing attachment between the two boys…it was becoming more visible. The link she had sometimes glanced in a passing moment in their earlier childhood was growing more prominent, and she wasn't sure which direction it was taking. Was there something there that needed to be stopped?

Severa Snape continued her lecture about the poetic genius of the young Rimbaud, while keeping an eye on the darting grey ones of the blonde sixteen-year old.


Hmmm, I don't want to bore you guys with any dull details about my life, so I'll leave all excuses behind. Just want to say that I am NOT stopping anytime soon. I have to kick my own arse, and I will, for you guys :)

Please! Give me some liquid courage (or some felix felicis would do the job) by reviewing lots and lots and lots. The more the better! Even if you never reviewed until now, you are welcome. Or even just PM me if you don't like reviews. It's not about status or ****, just communication :)

Thank you to everyone who's still following!

Aoiika