He didn't enjoy lying to Hermione, so he lied by omission and told her absolutely nothing. They still spent most of their time together studying, or in Harry's case- trying to. Today they were meeting at the library, but when he got there he walked into quite the scene: Draco cornering Hermione, rounding on her in an angry whisper while other students looked up to watch. But Draco may have been yelling at McGonagall for all the good it did. She stared at him, dressing him down, looking like she was going to give him detention for even trying her.

"Who cares about the first years!?" Draco snarled as Harry crept closer. "You should be teaching us, not students below O.W.L.s!"

"I don't have to teach anybody! And lower your voice or-"

"McGonagall knows what you're doing. You're supposed to be teaching us at this point."

"I don't have an entire class with other students. I think you're coming out ahead."

Ever since McGonagall's Intelligent Motivational Transfiguration demonstration, all the seventh years became rather nervous for their C.H.A.R.M.S. Trelawney's Intelligent Motivational Transfiguration spells were about as useful as her predictions. Privately, Harry felt like Draco had a point but he wasn't about to agree with him in public.

Harry walked up behind him and declared: "50 points from Slyffin-puff, that's no way to talk to a teacher!"

"You're an effing Slyffin-Puff!" Draco spun around, surprised he was right behind him, this not being one of his greater insults. He threw up a finger, pointing at him. "YOU! Tell her to stop teaching students below O.W.L.s!"

"I can't boss Hermione around, mate!"

OHH NOOO. Ohhhhhhh noooooooo. He accidentally called Draco Malfoy 'mate.' His heart quickened with the embarrassment and died just a little.

Draco gave him a weird look like what he said was grossly inappropriate. "Look!" Harry thumbed the bridge of his nose. "If you don't want her to help other students, then you don't know Hermione. What about… what about… meeting an hour before Dueling Club, once a month? Just the unofficial eighth years. That's coming up. Hermione, what do you say?"

"I say that's fine. If Malfoy stops stalking me."

Draco turned red. "I'm NOT stalking you! Fine. Before Dueling Club then." And he left with his bag, furious, passing Harry. "And don't call me mate."

"It was an accident, I assure you." Harry crossed his arms as he left.

Hermione looked stern until Draco turned a corner, then looked rather pleased with herself. "He was asking me quite politely until a Slytherin walked by, then made a show of it. Thought he was going to almost say please before that."

"So, he's stalking you, is he?"

She smiled. "You know, I've been thinking about doing an 'eighth year study group,' or I wouldn't have agreed. Wasn't sure how it would go with the Slytherins. I guess they're on board."

"It's an excellent idea Hermione, but I hate not having you all to myself." He cringed internally for saying it like that.

She beamed. "I know. And HARRY…" She smiled, tilting her head back, smile spreading, barely holding it in. "I can't wait to tell Ron! MATE!?"

"No… No…" Harry shook his head. "It was an ACCIDENT and you know it. I don't even like him, Hermione, please…"

She bent over her stack of books, muffling her laughter. "You called him mate! You called Draco Malfoy MATE."

"He did?" Ginny asked with Neville in toe, seeing Draco just leave their table in a huff. "You're really taking this Slyffin-puff stuff seriously, aren't you, Harry?"

"How could you?" Neville asked.

"You should have seen the look on his FACE! Oh… I'm writing Ron tonight," Hermione beamed.

"No! Hermione, don't!" Harry protested. "He'll get jealous!"

"No he won't!"

"Oh yes he will!" Ginny agreed dangerously.

"Fine then, I'm writing George. I need a laugh."


He wasn't sure how the word got around but on Sunday all the eighth years met at the library two hours before Dueling Club. They watched Hermione as she performed the complex transfiguration magic, breaking it down into its smallest most infantile parts so the others could take notes. But it was proving difficult: Intelligent Motivational Transfiguration was more of an art form than a mix of spells. Even Harry was having difficulty under Hermione's careful instruction.

Soon the study group collapsed into everyone asking her individual questions about lessons they didn't understand from all subjects. Neville took every single Herbology one, and seemed more knowledgeable than Hermione with more practical nuance and less book-parroting.

Harry, who left all his books back in the Room of Requirement, doodled on a piece of parchment, Hermione flashing him angry looks while she showed Goyle a spell over and over again that he should have mastered the first week of term. Draco watched looking increasingly worried.

"Harry, what's with this Slyffin-puff thing, really?" Neville asked when Hermione took over teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"It's just a joke -from Snape."

"From Snape?"

"Yeah, he says I'm head of Slyffin-puff: naive as Hufflepuffs, reckless as Gryffindors, and no respect for rules or something. Basic gist. Oh, and nothing from Ravenclaw, calling us dumb again."

"Snape made that joke?"

"At Slughorn's party, yeah, well… before that, now that I think about it. Surprised you didn't hear it."

"Everyone's talking about it. Can I join Slyffin-puff too? Think I'd fit in."

Harry laughed. "It's not even a good joke- it's an insult. You can, but I don't know why'd you want to."

"No, I'm sorry, that's wrong," Ginny's voice said in the background.

"You don't know what you're talking about Weasley." Harry looked up to see Pansy disagreeing with Ginny in what order to add potion ingredients. Both were probably right.

"You know, you're starting to act like a real know it all. You're not the best in Potions- Granger now that I think about it, you're not the best seeker either. How'd you fall off your broom!? I thought you were a better flyer than that."

"Hey!" Dean barked, earning them a glare from Madam Pince. "That wasn't her fault! Her broom was bewitched- Quidditch sabotage, by your seeker!" Zabini, who minded his own business this entire year, looked up, offended.

"You're a real idiot, aren't you?" Pansy asked.

"A HUFFLEPUFF," Draco snarled. "That HUFFLEPUFF seeker did that. He has detention and everything!"

"A Hufflepuff wouldn't do that!" Justin shot back.

"Hufflepuff wouldn't do what!? You think a Hufflepuff can't perform a jinx? They're not all Diggory's. And don't go around blaming the Slytherins for things they didn't do."

"Dean, we are in the same house now!" Harry said jokingly, but his voice accidentally came out sounding serious. "And don't piss off Malfoy- he's President of the Dueling Club that you're about to go to."

Dean and Justin both decided Harry had a point and left Malfoy shooting daggers at them.

Ginny was now horrifically quiet, looking down at her book, eyes glazed over. Perhaps she didn't remember crashing into the castle at all, waking up in her own bed after the holidays with no memory of how she got there. Yes, that would be upsetting, losing her memory again…

Draco argued on Pansy's behalf with Hermione all the way to Dueling Club about the correct potion ingredients for the Draught of Finding- a potion to lead you to a missing object or set of objects if you had a piece of it. If Harry had to pick a side, Malfoy and Pansy were probably correct on this one. Hermione wasn't open to unpublished superior variations.

The first through fourth years were very unhappy to be turned away at the entrance of Dueling Club, but they quickly left under the presence of Snape's hooked nose intimidating them at the door. As the older students filed in, Harry tried to catch Snape's eye but he was in full Professor mode, looking out for any students who may disrupt the class with dangerous antics, or worse… pure incompetence.

The club now contained 50 people: all of the unofficial eighth years, most of the older Slytherins, a group of nervous sixth year boys trying to act tough, and a bunch of fifth year girls that stuck together like glue.

"You have noticed our numbers are smaller," Snape paced. "It was a mistake to allow children into this room. That mistake will not be repeated. Based on last week's abysmal performances, we have no choice but to go back to the basics."

Groans.

"AND if you're lucky, we will go over one NEW spell none of you have seen before- one that may save your life. An ACE in any duel, friendly or deadly…"

Interest peaked. "MALFOY!" He barked at him to take over to teach the basics: Shield Charms for starters and then the 10 most common spells used in duels including their most effective defenses.

After the initial demonstration they split up into four groups to decrease chaos. Harry, Hermione (who got roped into being a leader again,) Draco, and Snape. Draco and Snape received mostly Slytherins and Harry received all the fifth-year girls who did not seem very interested in learning. Behind him, Ginny (in Hermione's group) snickered at Harry's misfortune. He turned back to his group... All of the girls wore lipstick, looking at him while they twirled their wands in their hair.

Indeed, he did not get much teaching done. The girls he was supposed to be instructing did not find Shield Charms very interesting and kept giggling at the end of his sentences. Both Draco and Snape seemed to be supervising excellent duels nearby, and by the end of the lesson, Ginny's entire group of boys were down with Hermione begging for order. Snape positively screamed at her for her selfish showmanship but then appointed her to Dueling Group Leader, Hermione happily resigning.

"Congratulations!" Snape yelled to the room. "Several of your stunts cost you the new material- GET OUT! And if you harass the group organizers again, it will be detention with Filch."

Harry's harassers left looking like it was a low blow to threaten them with Filch.

"Potter!" Snape turned to him, livid. "You embarrassed yourself again today."

"I think I did okay sir under the circumstances. I got pinched by a fifth year and that was weird."

"You can't control a bunch of fifth year girls!?"

"I trained for VOLDEMORT, not to protect my backside from girls! What was I supposed to do?"

"Hex them!" Snape yelled. "What does it matter if they're girls? Stop being chivalrous!" He stabbed a finger at Ginny. "Do you think she's going to let a boy flirt with her during a duel!?" Ginny beamed with the compliment.

"NOT FAIR! This 'Traditional Dueling' garbage is full of chivalry!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows and nodded like this was an excellent point.

"EXCUSE ME-" Draco drawled loudly to the five of them left. "Potter, did you really lose your composure to a bunch of girls?"

"I… well… you didn't see them enclose me like that."

"I didn't think you were such a coward."

"Put me with all BOYS next time then!"

"Fine- how about I put you with all the Slytherins?"

"Preferable!" and Harry meant it. "I promised to let them hex me. I prefer a challenge anyway."

Draco gave Harry one last 'you're pathetic' look before he huddled with Snape to go over next month's lesson plan. Harry left with Hermione and Ginny- who couldn't stop smiling after destroying a full group of boys.

"Harry, did you really get harassed by all those girls?" Hermione asked.

"DID I? I thought they were going to eat me!"

"Weeelll, they know you're single now, don't they?" Ginny cooed.

Harry didn't miss a beat. "If they took notes from you, they would know that to get my attention would be to properly duel me!"

They all laughed, going for an early dinner.


Thursday at Seven o clock, Harry's sixth year Advanced Potion Making book sat innocently on his bedside was properly raked through over this last week like it alone could give him answers to his predicament. Well, this was it… It was almost time for healing lessons.

And it was going further this time, wasn't it? What were the lessons going to morph into this time? He made up his mind… he was going again. He was really going. Absolutely mad.

In the hour he had left he stared up at the ceiling in his comfy bed-like chair. And when the time drew near, he grabbed only one book and left the rest behind.

At 8 o clock Harry let himself into Snape's classroom, which was unlocked, set up wards himself, knocking only at the internal chamber door, entering without an answer. Snape was in the kitchen pouring tea impassively. Three cauldrons were on the counter under low flames- long-brew potions that would take days or weeks to mature.

Soon they were both on the couch, tea between them including the usual silence. ...Who was going to speak first?

"SO…" Harry started, throwing it out there. "Last week's lesson was… informative. I am... learning a lot."

"Indeed it was," Snape agreed, and Harry could feel he was being studied for … weakness… or… consent… or…

More silence.

"I… so, I am ready for this week's… lesson. What will we be learning today?"

Again, he was being studied- a slow calculation with a little evil smile that fooled exactly no one.

"If you are …satisfied… with last week's lesson… and you are… confident we can continue"

Snape's cloak released, his robes unbuttoned themselves down to his insanely perfect clean white shirt. Again, a release of a cuff, again, the spell on the sleeve, the daft rolling up past the Dark Mark, up past the bicep revealing a barely healed arm.

"Sir."

"Yes…?"

"I really don't like seeing those marks. I am not learning 'healing' to leave someone butchered. Can we go over scars again first?"

"Despite magic, the best wizards are full of scars."

"I don't… I don't care. It bothers me. If we're going to continue to practice this way, I don't want to see those. It makes me uncomfortable… sir," Harry added.

"… Very well…" and he was given an arm. Harry shuffled closer, looking upset at all the burn marks he caused. But from what he could see written on Snape's face, he thought the burn marks and Harry's guilt were both very funny.

One after the other he performed Adtenuo on 10 or so of the worst burns. The progress was minimal. And as he tried harder and harder, Snape's smile grew wider and wider. The scars were barely getting smaller. He tried going over the same ones over and over again but to no avail. Snape looked absolutely pleased at these failures.

"Are we done?" he asked nastily.

"YOU do them then! I don't… I don't want to see these every time I walk in here!"

"Very well." Snape used his wand to heal the worst ones into small little dots. "Satisfied?"

"Yes, that's fine," Harry said grudgingly.

"Do you want to know why you did so poorly? Or would this hurt your feelings?"

"Yes, that's what I'm here for- tell me."

"You don't have enough skill," he spat. "Or experience," he added. "Or FOCUS," he pointed. "And no precision at all. Why would you assume you would master this? Scar reduction is an entire skillset of its own." Pointing at one of the smaller wounds, his wand glowed, a minute string of magic piercing the skin. "You are directing a beam of magic at the general area. Direct your energy finitely into only the damaged tissue. You are sending a beam of magic inside, past the area; you must keep it on the surface where the wound is. And spend longer on each one. You spent 10 minutes on 10 scars when you should be spending 15 minutes on the worst one. And sometimes a scar is not simply a scar. Spell damage may make it unable to heal… OR the scar retains cell memory of the trauma and the flesh may resist being healed altogether. Sometimes the body does not want to heal. Do you understand?"

"Yes." And he did understand.

"Are we ready to continue?"

"Yes."

"Major injuries. Body trauma that must be stopped before one can travel or Disapparate, something you may see as an Auror. An emergency. For a deep wound that is actively bleeding, use 'Ignire' to cauterize the wound. After the bleeding is staunched, you will use healing spells to close the wound into a manageable one. For a deep wound we suggest getting the injured to a safe place before healing, that is important. For complicated injuries, spells should only be half the work. Potions are superior in aiding the body to heal itself. Healers are no match for the healing power of one's own body. Use the scar reduction spell only after the body does the work. What did you hear me say?"

"Deep wounds. Stop the bleeding, cauterize it. Heal it as much as you can, let the body do the rest. Potions are superior for complicated cases or deep internal injuries."

"That is correct, Potter. Are you ready? This will actively bleed. Wand up."

Snape blasted a small deep hole that instantly oozed blood. Harry grabbed the arm hard and performed the burning spell. It bled and burned at the same time- smoking... burning… the stream of blood slowing and stopping. Harry tried not to let the blood bother him, but a small stream of blood managed to flow all the way down to Snape's wrist. He attempted to mop it up with his robe.

"Vanishing Spell, Potter. Works on all fluids…"

"Oh… yeah. Evanesco!" The blood vanished. He started to heal the wound.

Snape inspected it, deciding it was passable. "Next. This wound will be larger and deeper."

Harry grimaced at the warning. This next wound was many times larger and bled much faster. Harry grabbed the arm, blood instantly pooling at the fleshy part between his fingers and thumb. Too large to cauterize at once, he thought about using Incendio to do it. Would he risk making the injury worse if he did? Trying to control his breathing, he used Ignire to go over the wound, torn between slowness and accuracy versus wanting the blood to stop as soon as possible; a delicate balance of time and priorities. When he was finished, the wound was black and very well burnt. Blood covered his hand and leaked all down Snape's arm, covering the Dark Mark in red strips.

"Don't make me do that again," Harry pleaded.

"Practice makes perfect, Potter." Snape grabbed part of Harry's wand out of nowhere. Ignoring Harry's alarm, he wiped the blood off of it. "Oh… thank you."

Forgetting to do the Vanishing Spell, Harry leaned into the wound to heal it. But he did a terrible job, still thinking about his wand getting grabbed casually and wiped. This wound would definitely scar.

"That's enough, I think." Sensing his discomfort, Snape vanished the blood Harry forgot, pointing his own wand at the wound and reduced it substantially.

"I'm... sorry," Harry said, realizing his nerves ultimately failed and this was going to take time to do with a cool head.

"For what?" he finished reducing the wound, already looking old.

"I will… practice." Harry decided, buying time, not wanting to see an actively bleeding wound again.

"With who?" Snape asked with a smile. "Surely not with Granger…"

"I'll…. I'll do it on myself."

Snape tilted his head with a smile. "Can I watch?"

Harry blushed through his anger. Secretly he did feel like he could perform it better on himself. The stakes seemed much lower with his own body.

"You're right, it is better if it's you. As I don't particularly care for you."

"And yet you're here. Full of surprises."

"Scar reduction," Harry said, the only thing he could think of. Horrible memories were bubbling in the back of his brain and he needed the distraction immediately. "Arm, please."

"As you wish."

Harry tried to heal one of the lesser scars. But all he could think of were the dead bodies of students last year, lying where they fell. Why was he even here?

"You're sweating, Potter."

"I…" They locked eyes. Harry's mind opened, the dead bodies of students swimming on the surface.

Snape grabbed his wrist. "That's not your fault-" he said sternly.

"Don't… don't do that. Don't read my mind- ever. I don't like that. Don't... NEVER. It's a violation- I don't CONSENT…!"

"FINE. But it's not your fault."

"I…." But Snape did not let him go. Harry slunk down into the couch, feeling defeated. He swallowed.

"…Did you take the potion I gave you or did you throw it away?" he heard Snape whisper. Although he was right next to him he sounded very far away.

"No. I took it. Same day."

"Do you want another?"

"…No."

And thankfully he wasn't questioned why he didn't want another.

Harry felt his hand being delicately lifted and taken. This seemed like a bold upgrade under the circumstances. Light fingers ran over the back of his hand. But instead of feeling comforted, he was feeling uneasy with this level of touch and contact. Harry roped himself back into the present and finally realized what was happening.

Snape was examining his hand up close, supremely interested in the scars there. 'I must not tell lies.' A thumb ran over it, feeling the texture.

They both said nothing. Snape positioned his wand directly over the scar.

"No- don't." Harry pleaded, Snape catching his eye, studying him. "I… I don't know, it's a reminder. What I've been through. It's fine. You have scars you could have healed too, don't you?" Snape didn't answer this but he didn't let go of his hand.

They settled back into nothingness and silence. It was like he was back in the Triwizard Tournament, each move forward- a gamble. Confusion. He sighed and leaned back into the couch. Their hands dropped but stayed together.

Harry wasn't sure what to do with this intimacy thrown at him. Part of his brain was screaming 'put up boundaries,' but the other part of his brain said they were way past that point.

Your hand is resting on top of Severus Snape's.

Snape was not holding his hand, but it was close enough. Eyes flickering down at it, he studied Snape's long thin fingers, gently sloping up towards his, and how bad his scars really did look. How many teachers noticed? How many students? Just up from Snape's hand- the exposed Dark Mark.

…That was a cursed scar, wasn't it? Would that work at all?

Pulling his hand away slowly, he touched the Dark Mark. He was expecting a raised texture but it felt like normal flat skin. Harry pointed his wand and tried the scar reduction spell.

Snape actually laughed out loud at the attempt. "Nice gesture- but no."

"I thought I'd try."

"Should I try your forehead?"

"No. I like my scar."

"Faaaammouus Harry Potter… likes his scar."

"No, I liked it when I was a kid. Before I was 'famous,' or whatever. Don't give me that look." When Snape continued to look at him like he was an arrogant celebrity after all, Harry pointed his wand and said "Don't make me hurt you."

"Do your worst," he dared softly.

Harry didn't say anything to this but continued his attempt to reduce the Dark Mark out of spite or practice, it making absolutely no difference. He then reached for tea, drinking it in the silence, setting his scarred hand back down onto Snape's, fingers not closing. He sipped, knowing what he was about to ask. Yes, this seemed like the right moment.

"I was thinking…" Harry put down his tea cup with his free hand. "Could you…" he stalled for time… "Your old potions book... It was the best textbook I ever had." He wanted to convey how important it was to him without sounding… "Because I'm starting as an Auror soon, maybe you…" he didn't look Snape in the eyes, "Could you… maybe take my Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and notate it for me? Like you did with your sixth year Potions book? Healing spells, tracking spells, practical field spells, Dark Arts counters, and maybe… useful spells you've invented but haven't shared, you know, the non-dark ones?"

"What, so you can guess what a spell does, and heal an enemy instead of hex him?"

"No… I… I just thought maybe you'd want to." Harry said lamely.

"To this day, I only have about 75% of your homework. Why would I waste my time?"

"Yeah, thanks for overlooking that, Dumbledore." Snape gave an unwilling half-smile. "I… I feel like I understand you through your magic," Harry tried to illustrate, trying to strike that delicate balance. "Having your old potions book- it felt like Enigma Magic in my sixth year, and… well, it would be a nice thing to do for me," he ended, sounding stupid and feeling stupid.

"I still see no reason I should reward you for failing harder in a subject you're supposed to excel at."

"That book meant something," Harry said firmly, looking away still, annoyed that they just had some moment, and Snape was refusing this. "I liked the person that wrote it."

"Lucky me."

"It burnt in the Room of Requirement. I was sorry to lose it."

"Potter, even if your request wasn't ridiculous, my glorious nights and weekends are spent fortifying the castle. And here I am, teaching you healing spells, despite that I don't think you're very good at them. If I have not expressed plainly enough, you're not to be trusted with 400 spells in the margins of a book with zero context. I am not foolish enough to do that for you."

The 'no' hurt more than Harry expected. He was sure Snape would pick up what he was asking and agree.

"Okay." Harry turned away defensively. But then he decided to point his wand at Snape and blast an eraser sized burn mark in his arm for refusing.

"How childish."

"I'm playing your game, why not play mine?"

"MY game?" Snape snarled loudly, unexpectedly outraged, throwing Harry's hand away. He shifted in the couch, disquieted. Harry felt just as surprised and offended. Did he actually think he was flirting with him before their lessons? Because he absolutely wasn't.

The lesson was done. Snape put back on his robes and cloak looking pissed. But soon steely calm washed over him, looking at Harry through slitted eyes. Something bad was about to happen... he could feel it.

Raising his wand, Snape blasted a spell violently into his own chest. Blood gushed and spurted and his cloak started to soak. Harry yelled and jumped back.

"Hurry, Potter…" Snape laughed, bleeding badly.

Harry knelt close and ripped at his clothes trying to get at the wound, but they wouldn't rip. He was buttoned up good and the fabric must have an anti-ripping charm.

"Those cutting spells are dual purpose, Potter…" Snape chided, his cloak darkening still, blood gushing out of the hole in the fabric.

"Diffindo!" Both sets of clothing broke apart revealing the white shirt, now completely red from the chest down. Cutting open the bloody shirt revealed a deep wound and an exposed rib, blood oozing in waves. Harry gasped, pointing his wand, concentrating his magic to clot and close the wound.

"I can't see- there's too much blood!"

Snape laughed. "We've already gone over that!"

Vanishing that much blood seemed counter-intuitive. The blood seemed rather important- like he should somehow force it back in, not vanish it. But he did vanish it and it kept coming. Burning the wound quick and fast, he used much more burning force than he normally would to cauterize it quickly. Wound turning black, he switched to a healing spell and closed it.

When Harry finished, panting, he was both shaking and furious. Snape looked rather satisfied with himself leaning back into his couch, cloak torn open, robes ripped apart, bony chest exposed, and wet with blood. He crossed his legs, relaxed.

"You know, your classes would be a lot more popular if students got to watch you bleed out at the end of class," Harry said coldly.

Snape threw his head back and laughed. "That was not half bad Potter, you struggled with getting to the wound, but you made quick work. A little sloppy though, I dare say."

"That was cruel," Harry said unimpressed. "Shitty thing to do, really."

"THAT Potter- is what you can't learn in a book."

Harry pulled out his thick Defense Against the Dark Arts law book and threw it on the coffee table expectantly. Slinging his empty bag over his shoulder, Snape watched him go. When he was almost to the door his guilt forced him to turn around. "Are you alright, sir?" he asked begrudgingly. Snape looked pale but smug.

"Why Potter, did you finally master a Blood Replenishing Potion? I AM impressed. I will take one if… you can brew it..."

Harry pursed his lips. He could try, but he would probably forget an important ingredient without reference.

"No help there, Potter. Again, you come up lacking."

"Do you want me to grab Slughorn?" Harry asked defiantly.

"And they call me the cruel one," he waived a hand. "Now go Potter… I have some fluids to replenish." A wine bottle flew down from a shelf and straight into his waiting hand.

Harry closed the door, still furious, seething right through the classroom and out into the hallway. Finally alone, he noticed he was covered in Snape's blood.