With Hagrid gone, someone had to take care of Fang. The week before a break was always a hectic time around school, either from students misbehaving out of impatient anticipation or teachers getting a frenzied look in their eyes as they realised how fast OWLs and other finals were approaching. Eager to get out of the Gryffindor common room and feeling that it was too early to head down for Snape's Occlumency lesson, Harry got some food from the kitchens and went outdoors to Hagrid's hut.

Fang was delighted to see him. He barked, jumped up, and licked Harry's face enthusiastically. Laughingly, Harry pushed him down and fed him.

"You've been all alone down here, haven't you, boy?" He scratched the big boarhound's back as it ate. "Missing Hagrid?"

Fang paused momentarily, lifting his head at Hagrid's name. He looked around and gave a low whine.

"I know. I miss him too," Harry said, giving the dog a fond old ear rub and hoping Fang didn't recognise the sadness in his own voice.

Fang finished eating and gave a short bark up at Harry. He laughed back. "Alright, c'mon, let's go wander around for a bit." There was a dog flap charmed by one of the other professors to only allow Fang through, but he imagined the dog hadn't wanted to leave the hut for long in case Hagrid came back. Poor thing was probably restless.

They walked out behind the hut and towards the forest. Fang bound ahead of him, ran back, and circled around before running ahead again. Harry grinned.

"Harry?"

He turned partially in surprise. "Luna? What are you doing out here?"

Luna, looking almost ethereal and spirit-like with her long white hair and dreamy expression, stepped towards him through the trees. She had a satchel on, and Fang ran up to it, sniffing at it with great curiosity. She patted his head with a distant smile.

"Oh, I'm just feeding the thestrals. I was going to give some to Fang too, but I figured you'd be down soon enough."

"You… really? How'd you know that?" Harry asked, falling into step with her. She seemed unreal in this moment, like nothing and no one could touch her, but he still didn't think it was a good idea to let her wander into the forest alone.

"The wrackspurts seemed to be getting to you. Fresh air is just the thing to help clear them away, you know."

"...ah…."

She patted him on the bicep, much the way she had patted Fang. He smothered a smile. "They're all over the school and have been since Umbridge came. Don't feel embarrassed."

"I'll try not to," Harry responded seriously.

Luna looped her arm through his. "You're having fun at me, but that's alright." Harry started to protest that he actually hadn't, but she kept talking. "I'm glad spring is finally on his way." It was getting somewhat warmer; Harry was in a lighter cloak instead of his heavy winter one. She was barely wearing any protective clothing at all, but that was normal for her and she didn't appear to be cold despite the chill that still bit in the air.

"You think spring is a guy?"

"Don't you?"

"I mean, I think it's just weather, but usually people talk about Mother Nature and all that."

"Hm. No, I think he's like a young man. Hesitant, not quite sure how to go about his business yet. Late, too," she said, giving him a look that was unusually sly for her. He laughed, and she smiled back. He wondered how often she talked to friends that laughed at her jokes. "But eager. Full of life, making mistakes and just wanting to change the world."

"Are you still talking about the weather?"

"Am I?" She gave a soft sigh. "A young man that comes in, grows and becomes beautiful, makes you fall in love, but doesn't stay long."

"I think 'mother' still works for someone that doesn't stay long," Harry griped, thinking about how both of them had lost their mothers at a young age before realising what a kind of horrible thing to say it was and clamping his hand over his mouth. He was half afraid that she would get sad or start crying, but she only gave him a compassionate look and squeezed his arm. Maybe he was the one to get sad after all.

"At least we still have our dads," she said before slipping her arm out of his and drifting off towards a small thestral foal that had appeared from behind a trunk. He watched her offer meat to it with his mouth half-open, arm still held out in a stunned reaction.

"Sorry, what?" Did she not know what happened to his family, or had she-?

"Family comes in many forms." She tenderly cupped the foal's chin. It snorted in her face, blowing her hair out around her. She laughed.

Harry slowly lowered his arm. He stared at her for another long moment before deciding to just pass it off as a Luna quirk.

They spent an hour or so feeding the thestrals and running around with Fang to get him some exercise. When they made it back to Hagrid's hut, he flopped down on Hagrid's bed (a place Harry was pretty sure he wasn't allowed, but he felt bad for the animal and let it stay there) with a tired whoomf. Luna hadn't made any more references to his dad or family, and he hadn't brought it up. She did wish him good luck when parting, which seemed strange until he remembered he had an Occlumency lesson. Of course, it just seemed strange again when he remembered that she wasn't supposed to know about those.

On his way down to the dungeons, he passed by Draco Malfoy. The teen shoulder-checked him in the hall, sneering at him unpleasantly.

"Watch it, Potter!" he snapped with unusually vicious rancour.

"What's got you all wound up?"

Malfoy stopped sauntering, slowly rotating on his heel. He eyed Harry up and down. His expression gave the impression that he had smelt something sour. "Everyone is looking forward to the break. It's a chance to meet with family… and friends."

At first, Harry thought it was just a dig at his lack of family to go with, but then the blond's second meaning hit him and he shook his head in disgust. What fifteen year old boy looks forward to meeting Voldemort?

"'Friends' is an interesting word choice. What, you're gonna sit down with him to tea? Play a round of backgammon?"

"No doubt that's what you uncivilized Gryffindors do in your spare time. You wouldn't know a noble cause if it hexed you."

"Noble? You honestly think murdering people and burning down their homes is noble?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed briefly. He tossed his head like an offended Abraxan. "We are preserving our world."

Harry rolled his eyes and turned his back on him (hand ready to grab his wand just in case, of course). "Whatever, Malfoy." He walked off, ignoring Malfoy's shout after him.

In Snape's quarters, he stepped through the portrait to find his mentor standing in the center of the room, arms crossed and foot tapping.

"Hey!"

"Hello, Potter."

Harry blinked, alarmed at the stern tone. He wasn't surprised, though; that body language meant annoyed dad at its peak.

"Is… everything alright?"

"It seems to be, despite what I suspect were your best efforts. We had an emergency staff meeting today after classes to discuss what occurred this weekend. Poppy gave us a report on Umbridge's condition during this time. Imagine my interest in hearing that she is now hallucinating bagpipe music."

"Wow! That sounds awful, she must be sicker than I thought." Harry opened his eyes wide and blinked innocently.

"Work on your poker face, it is atrocious," Snape groused, turning and walking to the kitchen.

Harry smirked and tossed himself down on the sofa. He stretched out, propping his head up on one armrest.

"Shoes off the furniture, Bill Millin!" Snape called, not even turning around. Harry toed his trainers off and reached for a blanket that had mysteriously appeared over the back of the couch a week or so ago. He threw it over himself, trying to ward off the chill that he'd gotten from being outside and then passing into the still-frigid dungeons.

"How was the Order meeting?"

Snape returned with two cups of tea, one of which he slid across the table towards Harry. He took a sip out of the other before answering. "Uneventful. Most of our current intel has come in through our people in the Ministry, where they report that division is rampant and traces of cover-ups have been found in nearly every department. This is all being kept quiet, of course; only higher-ranking personnel are in the know."

"Hardly a surprise there, huh? Can hardly believe they've kept it even that quiet."

"So cynical," Snape murmured amusedly into his cup. Harry flushed. "Are you prepared for today's lesson?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, setting aside his tea and sitting up straighter. Snape, still lounged back and in a relaxed pose, languidly looked up to meet his eyes.

"Legilimens."

Whirling of colours. The foreign yet now familiar sensation of someone else's mind in his own; it felt like breath on the back of his neck. He focused on it and his mind maze, visualising the antechamber he had started building on Friday. Snape appeared within it, looking around attentively.

Harry gave a mental jump and found himself standing within the antechamber beside Snape.

"It appears that the theory holds substance," Snape mused. He walked over to the nearest wall, reaching out and touching it. His hand sunk partially within, as if the stone was a soft clay mould.

"Not enough, I guess," Harry muttered, scraping his foot along the floor. The toe of his trainer (wasn't it interesting that his mental image of himself always had shoes on, even when he didn't?) dragged through it like half-dried putty.

"It may require work and experimentation." Snape quit the wall and walked over to him. "To anyone else in the room, it would appear that we sit in silence stillness. I cannot perceive any memories or thoughts. In conclusion, while the form is not ideal, it serves its purposes."

"So you think I can get the room to stabilize?"

"With work."

"Yay, work."

Hermione and Ron's low bickering was familiar white noise as Harry scratched out a letter to Sirius. He normally didn't write often, as their post was monitored and he always felt bad asking Snape to deliver it at meetings because of the two men's animosity. He'd given in to the urge today because the suffocation of a Ministry controlled Hogwarts was getting to him. The closer they got to break, the more crushing the isolation of the castle was starting to feel. Everything trapped within its doors seeed just that: trapped. He hadn't gotten a letter from Mary and Callum in a while, and the lack of contact with the outside world made the tension within the school feel even more pressing. He was hoping that talking to someone unconnected with the situation would give him some perspective on how the rest of the world was doing.

"—which is absolutely atrocious, if you ask me," Hermione finished. "What do you think, Harry?"

"Wait, what?" Harry asked, head jerking up. He hadn't been paying attention and realised that some kind of philosophical discussion had evolved from their usual quibbling while he was brooding about things.

"The marriage laws. Weren't you listening?"

Harry had not been. He looked helplessly at Ron, who smirked at him.

"He was thinking about bigger problems, like if he should get a date to the Hogsmeade weekend after we get back from break."

"Hardly," Harry muttered, face burning. He'd occasionally taken notice of Cho Chang earlier in the year, but it had been a while since he had any spare time to devote to that particular subject.

Seeing he was totally lost in the conversation, Hermione sighed and restarted. "I was doing some digging into obscure Wizarding Laws the other day—"

"Why were you doing that?"

"We have a History of Magic OWL, if you've forgotten," she snipped. "Anyway, I found an old law about ancient marriage rites and saw that the age of consent for entering into a marriage was nine."

"That's… young, isn't it?" Harry asked with trepidation, seeing that some response was obviously expected but not sure where Hermione was going with the subject.

Hermione rolled her eyes like he'd just said something very stupid. He supposed he had.

"I was somewhat surprised; I knew that in the dark ages people used to get married early because of how short their lifespans were, but wixen have always lived longer as a result of health aids like potions and the fact that a magical core often extends a person's life. Still, I didn't think too much of it at first. Then I tried to find when that law had been changed—"

"Gotta follow up, you know," Ron said smartly.

"—yes, to follow up, and I found that it never was."

"Sorry, what??"

"Tradition and culture have looked down on any actual marriage rites taking place before age of majority for centuries now, but the law was never actually removed 'cause purebloods often sign marriage contracts when their kids are really young to make alliances with other houses. They're not binding or anything, and can be annulled by mutual agreement, but to take, the kids involved need to be able to consent to the contract," Ron explained.

"Which is horrible," Hermione stressed.

"Of course it is, 'Mione, but the only people who use that law are the people who want to. It doesn't affect people like us."

"And that's a reason to leave it in place? Don't you see how easily that could be exploited?"

"Yeah, obviously! Ha, the summer when Fred and George got back home after their first year in school, they tried to make a marriage contract between me and the patriarch of the gnomes in our garden. It was to make a deal for them to do our outdoor chores, 'n obviously I was too young to see what I was getting into."

"So you're, what, royal consort to the garden gnomes?" Harry snorted. Ron punched his shoulder.

"No, Dad caught 'em. Oh, was he mad! Y'know, getting yelled at by Mum sort of rolls off their backs most of the time, they're so used to it, but when Dad gets really upset, it's scary 'cause you know he means it."

Hermione looked flabbergasted at this. She tried multiple times to formulate a response, but he could see her only-child brain short circuiting and decided to move on. He'd ask Ron more about what was probably a really funny story in retrospect later. "You think that's gonna be on our OWL? Isn't it mostly wars and goblins and stuff?"

"Who knows what's going to be on the test? Binns… although I hate to speak ill of a professor, you know… he hasn't given us study guides or anything." Hermione buried her hands in her bushy hair, eyes getting a crazed look. "I've formulated several timelines of major events, using cross-references to cite sources, but much of the information I've found is very obviously written with a bias. More modern texts appear to be more fair, or at least to offer multiple perspectives, but they're often just summary in nature and go over broad concepts without offering much in-depth discussion about specific topics."

"Do you want a full volume on every decade of history since the early pagan rituals in Ireland?" Harry asked.

"Yes, actually, that would be nice!" she said, bordering on the edge of hysteria.

He and Ron exchanged a glance. Harry looked back to Hermione, who had clenched her fists in her hair and was staring blankly at a wall opposite.

"Do you know Daniel Pappalardo?" he asked slowly, fighting to keep his face straight.

The unexpected question seemed to take Hermione out of her daze somewhat. She released her scalp and slowly lowered her hands. "No, why?"

"You could just use a chance to relax, is all. Destress."

"And what, may I ask, can Daniel Pappalardo give me that I can't get from a good book?"

Harry and Ron made the mistake of making eye contact and simultaneously burst out laughing. If the irritated look on Hermione's face at not being in on the joke was anything to go by, she'd know about Pappalardo's gardening tendencies before the day was out.

Ron changed the subject with his normal finesse (blatant abruptness). "So Harry, what's up with the hair?"

"What?" It was Harry's turn to reach for his hair. He brought a strand out in front of his face, just to check it was still its usual colour and that the twins hadn't gotten him with a prank since the last time he passed a mirror.

"You have always worn it shorter than that," Hermione mused, apparently joining in. "Why are you growing it out now?""

"Long hair, lots of wizards have it, it's like a manly magical thing!"

Ron just looked confused. Hermione got a smug little expression that said she knew something.

"Lots of wizards, huh?"

Not wanting to hear what she thought she knew or get psychoanalysed, he said as a distraction effort, "Ron, Bill has long hair!"

"You're growing your hair out to look more like Bill?" Ron asked, growing even more confused.

"I'm not growing my hair out to look like anyone," Harry said, a tad flustered. Hermione sighed as if giving up.

"Okay, well, I've got to go post this," Harry said, stuffing the letter he hastily signed into his bag. "See ya!"

He dipped out of the common room and breathed a sigh of relief in the hall. Once he'd oriented himself, he decided he might as well make good on his word. He was originally going to give Snape the letter at the Wednesday Occlumency lesson, but it wouldn't hurt to give it to him a day early.

As he began walking towards the Great Staircase, Harry wondered briefly if he had been making flimsy excuses to visit Snape lately. He saw the man four times a week for Occlumency and defense lessons already. Was it normal that he felt such an instinctual need to see him every day? Maybe it was a leftover effect of the village. He'd gotten so used to seeing and talking with Snape every single day. It was only natural that he'd want to continue the habit. Didn't most kids get homesickness at the start of terms? He just happened to have a parent within school grounds instead of hours away.

Harry tripped over absolutely nothing and sprawled across the floor when the thought he'd just had finally processed. He laid there, dazed, and wondered about how he had ended up in this situation. Parent? He'd been mentally calling the man "Dad" for several months now, but he'd also always labelled their relationship as a mentorship or guardianship. The recent conversations with Luna and Malfoy flashed through his mind again. How things could change over a few short months. He supposed it all started that August day when the Ministry found him guilty.

Picking himself up off the flagstones with a groan, Harry rubbed his sore elbow and kept walking. He succeeded in thinking of nothing the rest of the way down, only to stop in surprise when the portrait swung open to Snape's quarters.

"Sweet Circe!"

For your imagination: deleted scene where Harry and Snape have an Easter egg hunt in Harry's mind maze.