For those of you who asked: Merlin starts October 1st (in the UK), straight after the Doctor Who Finale =) Yay, my Saturday will be a double whammy of pure awesome!

Chapter 71:

Harry clung to the vestiges of sleep, absently aware that his head was buried into someone's shoulder, his legs tangled up with another's.

His head throbbed, his mouth dry.

Thank God the Dungeons didn't yield much light. Why on earth had he drunk so much last night?
He couldn't quite muster the brain power needed to contemplate that pressing question any further, merely drifting in that comfortable, warm stage between dreams and awareness.

Zevi was rather comfortable…he was broken from his bleary musings as light abruptly shot into the room, and the dorm room slammed open with a sharp bang, causing him to immediately jack knife upwards and hold out his wand.

Oh. Snape.

Why was Snape giving him an odd lo…crap.
He wasn't in Zevi's bed, was he?

Tom blinked slightly at the early morning intrusion, looking only marginally dishevelled from the last night's drinking.

It all came flooding back to him.

Mr Weasley. God. Mr Weasley was dead. It struck him with the intensity of one of Tom's glares.

He'd…started sobbing on Tom…merlin…that was bad. That was so embarrassing.
What had happened after that? Why was he in Tom's bed? That bit was a bit blurry, admittedly. Crap.

The other Slytherins were coming to an awareness as Snape stared at the two of them, seemingly frozen, his expression unreadable.

Harry looked down; he wasn't naked or something, was he? No, he was wearing his boxers just like he always was, even if he wasn't wearing his normal t-shirt….except Snape couldn't see that part, could he?

"It's not what you think," his mouth blurted, awkwardly.

Tom propped himself up one elbow, studying him with a small measure of amusement. Harry looked to the side. They were very close. Hoping he wasn't flushing or anything, because really he had no reason too except for the fact that he knew what misconceptions and presumptions those around the two of them were drawing, he looked back at Snape as the other man strode towards them.

He had two bottles in hand, and an expression of barely restrained revulsion, horror and disapproval.

"Hangover cure," the Potions master told them in clipped tones, before backing away from them as if they carried some terminal, contagious disease. "Get dressed Mr Potter. The Headmaster would like to see you before you leave. Should I assume you were too busy too pack?"

Leave? Where-Grimmauld Place. Oh god. He had to face the Weasley's…he'd been drunk when he'd said that last night, surely they hadn't taken his request as an actual request?

Salazar.

It wasn't that he didn't want to see if Ron and everyone was okay, but…Mr Weasley was dead because of him, surely they didn't want to see him? Before he could voice any of this, Snape had stalked out again, robes billowing like bat wings behind him.

"Rough night?" Lestrange asked, sullenly, eyeing the two of them. Something in Harry snapped. He was so sick of the other's attitude.

"Oh yeah," he smirked suggestively, utterly fake. "Between you and me, it's the sadistic streak. Good times…"

Lestrange spluttered while Zevi burst out laughing. Draco regarded him warily, as if not sure whether he was joking or not. Tom rolled his eyes, flopping back down onto the bed, careless, watching as he stumbled out from beneath the sheets, struggling into a pair of jeans.

The Slytherins watched as well. He tried not to feel self conscious, but couldn't help it.

"Stop staring at me, pervs," he snapped, his temper taut. Most the Slytherin's immediately looked away; Tom simply raised an eyebrow at him. He ignored the other, numb.

He picked up one of the vials Snape had left on the bedside table, downing it in one, grimacing at the foul taste, before hurrying to the bathroom to brush both his teeth clean and the vile taste away as his mind noticeably cleared.

When he reluctantly glanced up at the mirror, feeling eyes on his back, he saw Tom had entered and was leaning against the door, studying him. He bent over to spit out toothpaste and rinse, not saying anything. God.

"About last night," he began uncomfortably, as Tom simultaneously stated:

"When will you be back?"

They paused, appraising each other for a moment.

"You first," Harry muttered, happy for the excuse. Tom merely looked at him, folding his arms casually against his chest. Harry couldn't get past his despondency to put up a fight.

"About last night," he started again. "I'm sorry about that…you know…er…crying on you and all that….yeah. And for, um, punching you…but you were baiting me! And yeah…erm…I should go, I still need to pack and Dumbledore wants to see me."

"So I heard," Tom stated, not moving from the door. Harry stopped in front of him, trying to put as many topics between 'last night and AWKWARD' as he could.

"I'll probably be back in a couple of days," he offered. "I don't know. It depends on the Weasleys."

Harry swallowed slightly in anticipation. At least he'd get to see Sirius and Remus. It was a thin silver lining for such a black storm cloud, but still a silver lining.

He felt sick, and he presumed it wasn't because Snape had poisoned him. Tom inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"I'll hold you to that," the Slytherin Heir said, "and come find you if you don't show up for Christmas." Harry smiled tiredly.

"Duly noted," he murmured. "You better have got me a Christmas present." He interjected the last in an effort to find normalcy, in the scarce hope that the world outside of the Slytherin Dorm hadn't stopped.

It was odd, he'd never really known Mr Weasley, and perhaps that made it worse. Now he was just left with the uncertainties, the feeling that he should have done better, the feeling that he had absolutely no right to grieve the man who had made Harry wonder what having a father would be like.

The Weasley's were going to despise him.

"Excuse me," he said softly, hoping it would prompt the other to move aside. Tom did so, still studying him, his words giving Harry slight pause.

"Write me if you have any trouble," Tom hissed.

Harry didn't know what type of trouble Tom thought he might find, or even if Tom expected him to take him up on the offer, but he dipped his head in agreement.

"Back at you," he murmured.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk in much the same position as when Harry had last been there. His hands were woven beneath his chin, but the blue eyes were grave.

"Harry," he greeted quietly. "Take a seat."

Wary, Harry did so, eyes flicking around the room. Fawkes chirped reassuringly.

"Your punishment for leaving the school will be addressed upon your return. You must understand that you cannot simply come and go as you please, especially in such dark times as these."

"There's a rule against it?" Harry returned, feeling anger swelling in his gut. What had Mr Weasley even been doing to get attacked by Nagini? Dumbledore's gaze sharpened with a cold seriousness.

"I am merely concerned for your safety…where is that you and Mr Riddle went?"

Harry laughed hollowly. Of course that was what this was about.

"Where Mr Riddle and I go and what we do is largely our own business," he said tightly. "Where is that Mr Weasley got attacked by a snake?"

"You did not see it?" the Headmaster questioned, regarding him piercingly. "Do you no longer get glimpses into the mind of Lord Voldemort?"

"I did not see it," Harry confirmed, not answering the latter query. "Do you really think I would have ignored it and ignored Mr Weasley if I did?" he demanded.

"Sometimes," Dumbledore said softly, "I'm not sure what to think about you or what you would do any more Mr Potter."

Harry looked away, irrationally irritated with the swirling chasm of emotions scribbling stories upon his blood stream. Dumbledore sighed, leaning forwards, imploring.

"Come back to the light, Harry. This is not right, us being on such opposing factions."

"We're not on opposing factions," Harry spat, his gaze snapping to the old man again. "I want Voldemort sorted out just as much as you do, you are pushing us onto opposing factions with your Grindewaldian black and white mentality!" Dumbledore seemed to flinch, almost imperceptively at the reference to the former Dark Lord. Harry's brow furrowed as to why that would be, but he continued regardless. "My methods are simply different from yours - I am simply different from you, and you are not always right."

Dumbledore stared at him neutrally for a moment.

"You sound remarkably like young Tom, it seems he is quite the influence on you."

Harry resisted the urge to growl in response, clenching his teeth.

"May I go?" he questioned. "This conversation is getting us nowhere."

Dumbledore sighed, heavily, leaning back into his chair once more, looking every inch his age.

"I wish to begin private lessons with you, when you should return. I am sorry to force this upon you in a time of mourning, but this war will wait for no man, however loved. Whatever your grievances with me, I would like you to try and put them aside for now."

"I already have an Occlumency teacher," Harry said.

Dumbledore's gaze glinted with genuine surprise and something else, before he smiled faintly.

"I was not referring to the Mind Arts, my boy. Now, I believe the Weasley's are expecting you."

Harry rose from the seat, recognising the dismissal, and not all too bothered with complying with it and leaving the man to his thoughts. "And Harry," Dumbledore called, as he reached the door. Harry didn't turn, keeping himself carefully controlled.

"Yes?" he questioned.

"It is human to feel pain, to love, don't let Mr Riddle dissuade you from that."

Harry was silent for a moment, before he left, unspeaking.

He arrived at the doorstep of Grimmauld place some five minutes later.

A/N: So, um, it seems that the last chapter wasn't a disappointment. *Sheepishly rubs head.* I guess I just have slightly high standards and can be a bit critical of myself. Thank you so much for the reviews, they inspired me to get this out to you quickly, to return the feeling of warmth and affection receiving your comments left in me.

Much appreciation, I hope you enjoyed this one too. PS: Has anyone noticed that my chapter length/word count has gradually crawled higher? Good, ja?