..
First thing in the morning Harry stopped down to check on Snape. As soon as he entered the classroom, fists dug themselves in his robes and violently shoved him against the wall.
"You should be at breakfast with your little friends." Before Harry could say anything a mouth pressed against his, apologizing for his outburst last night.
"Mmauuhh-mmm!" Harry tried to speak but decided to accept the apology instead, allowing himself to be positively raked over. The mouth did not leave his, body pressed into the wall hard, getting squeezed against the stone, feeling the full pressure of another. "Mmmauhhm," he moaned again mid-word, unsure if he should be pushing him off or not. This felt more dangerous in the morning than it did in the evening. "Mmmmokay…" Harry managed to say between attacks. "Okay… I get it…"
"I have decided I don't like surprises," Snape said in his ear, biting it hard enough to leave a mark, making him gasp. And then a wand was in his face, healing the bruise. "It is not the end of the world, for you to have a Hallow. It makes your Auror career seem infinitely less dangerous. I am not sorry you have I'm sure Dumbledore slept at night knowing it was with you."
"I'm… I'm sorry you had to find out that way."
"No matter."
But according to last night, it mattered a lot. Miraculously, Snape seemed fine this morning, like he drank his entire stock of Draught of Acceptance and left nothing for the students. They made out against the classroom wall, Harry accepting much more tongue than he did before. And then he was getting grinded against.
The kissing stopped abruptly.
His Hallow was yanked from his pocket and he was shoved into the wall by his face.
The classroom door finished opening and what looked like a second year entered the classroom, staring at Snape like he was the scariest thing at Hogwarts. Harry didn't blame him: Snape looked furious they were interrupted.
"Sir… uh… ummm…" Whatever the young boy wanted, the words got caught in his throat as Snape, the infamous teacher, former headmaster, student torturer, the Death Eater, looked murderously down at him. "Oh umm, never mind."
"What do you want?" Snape asked in a calmer tone than his face would suggest. "What are you having trouble with?" and he swooped towards the second year holding his Defense Against the Dark Arts book who stepped back like he was in danger. "Front of the classroom- we have little time. Leave the door open. What do you not understand?" The boy reluctantly followed him to his desk and Harry silently left.
Professor Trelawney didn't show up for Transfiguration today, giving them an entire blissful class alone with Hermione's demonstration in transfiguring school stones into Gargoyles that played chess with enthusiasm or frustration. Everyone could transform a stone into a Gargoyle but not everyone could make theirs focused or smart enough to play chess. Dean created a Gargoyle so angry, when it lost it started attacking other Gargoyles, smashing them to pieces. Instead of playing chess, Luna's Gargoyle just stared outside at birds with her, which was kind of successful in itself.
Draco avoided Harry outright the entire day, and by the end of it, could be seeing talking with Goyle again. The mutual hatred for Harry Potter wins again.
Come dinner time, Harry waited for Hermione, pushing around his food, looking forward to getting some rest. He didn't sleep well the night before, thinking about Snape's anguish and his parents' death.
"Harry!" Nearly Headless Nick floated through a wall, almost missing him. "Good to see you… as always…"
"Hello Nick." Several students perked their heads up, eager to corner the ghost. Harry looked at them and looked back. "Isn't it better to get it over with? The students I mean, let them ask their questions so you can go about the year in peace?"
"Perhaps… I will think about it," and he looked grave. "In speaking of getting it over with, Harry, the headmistress wants to see you, 8 o clock this evening. She would like to… talk."
"Really? Oh, of course." Harry raised an eyebrow at his wording. Get what over with?
"She expects you at 8 o clock sharp… and…uh… good luck, Harry…" He floated away looking sorry for him.
What was that supposed to mean? What did McGonagall want?
His brain jumped around a bit but immediately fell to only one thing.
She knew.
No, ridiculous, how could she know?
No, she knew. He could feel it.
But Why? It could be anything.
Even as he tried to rationalize it, his stomach sank, body warning him of the danger. There was only one thing he was doing wrong this year, or… 'almost doing.' She knew, he just knew it. He didn't know why he knew that she knew, but that's what this meeting was about. He started panicking. This wasn't about his grades, or some… special request, another trial, or a favor. This was about 'that' -he just knew it.
Harry spiraled on his way out of the Great Hall.
As much as he tried to calm himself but he couldn't. He thought about going directly to Snape to discuss tactics, but thought better of it. But why, why did it have to be about that? It could be about anything, couldn't it? His grades, his Herbology homework that he'd been copying word for word from Neville. Quidditch? Maybe something involving Wood? Doubt it… Kingsley? Maybe… But no, they were being sloppy, weren't they?
So, this was it. He was going to be questioned. The more he thought about it, the more he panicked. And this wasn't lying to an ordinary teacher, this was McGonagall. What if Snape got sacked?
Should he go to Snape right now? No, that would be foolish. What if she expected that and she was waiting for him?
At 7:55 he waited at the stone Gargoyle. Harry didn't know the new password so he looked down at the tile for minutes, eyes unfocused. At 7:59 the Gargoyle gave way and he stepped inside, heading up.
"Evening Potter!" McGonagall did not look at him, furiously finishing a letter. She signed it with an impatient slash and it flew into a large pile near the window, sealing itself closed inside of an envelope. "Have a seat," she said curtly.
Harry surveyed the room. She sat in a high back chair looking stern, her face not giving anything away. Behind her, the large portrait of Dumbledore sat with his hands in his lap, also surveying Harry. He stared up at Dumbledore.
This was going to be an uncomfortable meeting.
"Potter, I'm not going to waste your time or mine." She surveyed him over her glasses with her best accidental Dumbledore impression. "Is there anything… you want to tell me?"
"No… uh… no Professor." She stared into his eyes. He didn't think she knew Occlumency.
"...Are you sure?"
Harry thought up several lies and several truths. "Yes, there are some things," Harry said finally, "but I rather not tell you any of them." Dumbledore cracked a smile.
"Such as…?"
"Well, they're rather personal."
"Potter, please. There are portraits everywhere in this castle. Everything is connected. Even when you're invisible you trip spells and charms every day. I know exactly where you're going and what time you leave." Harry opened his mouth but didn't get the chance. "Now… Is there anything you want to tell me?"
Harry glanced at Dumbledore, then at where Fawkes used to sit, and then back at McGonagall. "I… I got it from Fred and George," Harry spluttered. "I mean Fred. I mean George. When he was here. I tried to keep it hidden, but then Neville saw it, and then it spread, and I'm sorry, It… it… and other people wanted one, so I told them where to get it, and I'm sorry Professor, I know this is a place of learning, and something of that… caliber… can be a distraction to students, I'm really sorry. I think only the seventh years have gotten it." Harry thought his embarrassment seemed legitimate, hoping a sex book was a good enough distraction.
"What are you talking about, Potter?" McGonagall asked, exhausted.
"The… the book. What are YOU talking about, Professor?"
"Snape. Professor Snape." She leaned in, eyes knowing.
"Oh," Harry said. And they both looked at each other, waiting for the other to strike first.
"…What about him?"
She raised an eyebrow and held it.
"He's teaching me Enigma Magic," Harry said simply and honestly.
She raised her eyebrows. "Reeeeeally?"
"Yes, Dumbledore taught him some, and now he's teaching me."
"Enigma Magic, out of the goodness of his own heart?"
"Yes, and healing spells," Harry said, not daring to look Dumbledore in the eye, although it was impossible for a portrait to use Occlumency... right?
McGonagall took in a great breath and bore down on him. "The rumor is that he's teaching you more than healing spells and… Enigma Magic, Potter."
"That's a lie," Harry said firmly. "He's teaching me healing spells and Enigma Magic."
"Oh, REALLY?" And this time she did not keep the disbelief out of her voice. "Albus, can you kindly tell me if you ever taught Snape Enigma Magic?"
Harry did not like how every portrait in the room was looking at them. Dumbledore took some time to speak "…I remember teaching him some… yes…"
"Did you now?" She turned back to Harry. "Well, if Professor Snape is teaching you Enigma Magic, surely you can perform some for me."
Harry didn't speak.
"Well?"
"… Are you sure? I need to perform it on you."
"On me, Potter?"
"Yes, on you... Would you like me to do it? It doesn't hurt." He gestured for them to get up.
Harry stood up and walked around the desk where McGonagall reluctantly stood. Harry positioned himself and wordlessly pulled the large glowing beautiful orb slowly out of her torso.
They both stared at it.
"…What does it do?" she finally asked.
"It's the stuff in Dumbledore's Deluminator. We don't know what it does exactly. I was hoping you could tell us that."
Dumbledore's portrait laughed. Harry returned the orb carefully back to her chest.
"Very well, Potter." They sat down, Harry still looking defiant. She straightened and gave him another hard look.
"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"
"No, I don't think so, Professor."
Her nostrils flared. "You're a better liar than I remember. Keep in mind your actions have consequences, and Professor Snape is in a vulnerable position at the moment. You were at his trial- you know what awaits him if he's forced to leave here."
"Nothing's happened," Harry said honestly. Well, nothing yet. "I don't know what you're on about, but you've got the wrong information." He stared her down. She stared back.
"Very well, Potter. Dumbledore?"
Again, he did not answer for a long while, choosing his words carefully. He found Harry's eyes over his half-moon spectacles. "Be careful, Harry. In more ways than one."
McGonagall softened behind her interlocked fingers, thinking to herself. Harry nodded, acknowledging his advice, but not looking at either of them.
"You may go… Potter."
Harry stood up to leave and was at the door when he paused, fingers on the door frame. He turned back. "Please… don't bring him into this office." He didn't know what else to do, but this seemed important. "You're all that he has left, don't make him lie to you. He won't like doing it twice."
She thought for a while, clenching and unclenching her hands. "I expected better of him."
"It's none of your business!" Harry accidentally yelled.
"Everything at Hogwarts is MY BUSINESS!" She slammed her fist on the headmaster's desk.
"NOT THIS!" Harry burst. "PLEASE, Professor, don't make him come in here and lie, don't do it! Just... Just … I'll be gone in a few months, and everything will be back to normal. I don't care that you're headmaster, don't interrogate him as if he wouldn't die for this school!You're right, he is in a vulnerable position, but I know you mean a lot to him, Professor. He counts on you, and... he's not doing anything wrong! I've… I've EARNED the right to a little bit of privacy, haven't I!?"
"HE hasn't earned this," McGonagall emphasized with finality. Harry stared. And then he left, petrified.
Ignoring all the portraits and tripping charms, he went straight to Snape's quarters at midnight after McGonagall looked like she finally went to bed according to the Marauder's Map.
"My, my, I get visitors, after what happened today?"
"Did you get questioned?" Harry started.
"Yes." Snape didn't look up when he entered, reading a rather large book, looking completely relaxed and unperturbed with his feet up. "What did you think was going to happen?"
"How did it… what did you say?"
Snape shrugged. Harry's brain went wild, picturing Snape leaving the school and Harry following, unable to deal with his anger that he caused all this. Questions from Hermione. Questions from students. Mrs. Weasley. He collapsed on the other side of the couch.
"… Do you think Dumbledore cares?"
"Dumbledore's dead."
"I… I know that, but..."
Snape flipped through his book, looking bored.
"…How do you deactivate the tripping charms?"
"There's a good Slyffin-puff. Always looking for a way around rules."
"Just… how do you undo them?" Harry still had panic in his voice. Snape got up and showed him the spell to undo and redo the tripping charms that reported out of bed students.
"Nothing happened."
"Nothing will. Trust that it works. Students or intruders aren't supposed to notice the presence of tripping charms. But don't do it when you go back tonight, or she'll think you came and never left."
"So...what happens now?"
"Nothing happens now."
"But WHAT HAPPENED? McGonagall talked to you?"
"She did."
"AND?"
"And I've disappointed the family. Apparently last year wasn't enough."
Harry couldn't believe he was still joking. "AND?"
"And what, Potter? What are you fishing for?"
"What did you SAY!?"
"I told her you were shit at your studies, failing Defense Against the Dark Arts, and you were going to fail if I didn't help you. Not a lie, might I add. You ALSO failed to mention that Kingsley literally required you to get your Healing C.H.A.R.M.S."
"That's it?"
"That's it. Don't tell me you gave it away."
Harry searched the room desperately. "I didn't…"
"And…?"
"And then… I did…"
"Ah."
"…Well, not really. I told her it was none of her business and she's a shit friend for bringing it up with you."
"…Did you now?"
"Sooo… what… what did Dumbledore say during your meeting? …Weird for him to be part of it and all."
"Gave me an earful."
"He did?" Harry's heart sank.
"McGonagall didn't say much after that. Turns out you are their golden boy still."
"Merlin's… …fuck."
"Merlin's fuck indeed."
Harry collapsed onto the couch again, defeated. He rubbed his face. "So now what?"
"Nothing, Potter. I don't care what happens," and he sounded like he meant it.
"Well, I care," Harry said, lost.
"You would."
Harry didn't say anything, twisting his fingers in his hands over and over. Snape got increasingly annoyed at the silent fidgeting. "Harry," Snape snapped his thick book closed. Harry looked up, surprised to hear his first name- Snape must not have realized he even used it. "The Dark Lord's dead. For some reason, I am still teaching boys in my house crude healing spells 'for their inner thigh' because they won't go to Madam Pomfrey for whatever they did to their genitals this time, and if I have to live in the house I hate for the next five years brewing Potions for Knockturn Alley, at least I can stop making the Draught of Peace for crying Hufflepuffs with dead parents."
"I know… I just didn't want some scandal. Like you're doing anything wrong."
Snape laughed. "You know Potter…" he turned away, sounding mischievous, "Part of Hogwarts' new protective spells are of my own invention. They are just a fraction of its new protections, yes, each teacher is doing their part, BUT I hardly believe I'll be thrown out of Hogwarts when the castle is in… such disarray. Half done, you know."
This did make Harry feel better. "I didn't want McGonagall to think less of you," he admitted sheepishly.
"McGonagall thought I wanted to kill muggle-born students for the Dark Lord this time, last year," he said, throwing his book down. "Now I'm making all the potions for the little traumatized children, because Slughorn's too lazy to do it. And in 10 years, new -adorable- werewolf cubs will be getting their letters thanks to Greyback. Madam Pomfrey is an excellent healer- but she is not a Potions Master. I think I will be fine. Besides… I'm not doing my job properly until I disappoint someone."
Harry completely forgot about Greyback and all the new werewolf children that will need an education. It was more than welcome news that Snape still may be needed and McGonagall just might look in the other direction until Harry got out of school.
"So…"
"SO…" Snape said with finality, "Thursdays. 8 o clock."
Harry nodded. He felt like he should have said more to McGonagall; he did a lot of denying but not enough defending. And Dumbledore's portrait… Be careful, in more ways than one. What was that supposed to mean? "What did Dumbledore say?"
"It doesn't matter what he said."
"What did he say?"
Snape grabbed him, forcefully pulling him into his lap. "A THOUSAND points to Slytherin," and he laughed maniacally.
