average human’s Reviews > Avada Kedavra > Status Update

When Harry arrived though, he did not appear to be in a pleasant mood, which did not bode well for Severus’ obscure request he hoped to make to examine his Invisibility Cloak.

“I’ve only got maybe ten minutes,” Harry scowled, throwing himself in the chair across from Severus at his desk. “I’ve got fuckin detention tonight.”

“Do you?” Severus asked, surprised. Typically the other professors made a habit of informing Severus when Harry received detention. They were rare occurrences, yet appreciated by Severus all the same. The only one who had ever assigned Harry a detention without telling Severus had been...

“Sirius gave me detention,” Harry said, sneering his godfather’s name. “I bloody well forgot about it until Monday when he reminded me, in class, in front of everyone, that I had detention all week.”

“Whatever for?” Outwardly, Severus was indignant on Harry’s behalf at Black assigning him detention and embarrassing him by the reminder in front of his classmates. Inwardly though? Severus smirked and laughed to know that Black could never replace Severus in Harry’s life, as much as he had once worried he would.

“Did- did he not tell you?” Harry asked slowly, suddenly ducking his head bashfully and peering at Severus through his fringe. “I thought... I thought he might?”

“He did not,” Severus told him, quite curious now as to what Harry had done that was causing him to become so reticent when he typically had no qualms with bragging about his misdeeds to Severus.

“Er...” Harry chewed his lower lip in the disgusting way that Severus finally conceded on ever correcting in him. “Well... you remember that day I took Felix Felicis?”

How could Severus forget the day that apparently some off-handed comment of Harry’s led Nymphadora to...

Well.

Somehow Harry’s luck led Nymphadora to Severus’ rooms where they renegotiated the terms of their friendship. And by that, Severus meant that Nymphadora told him in no uncertain terms that he was ‘stuck with her’ and he ‘better get used to it’.

Which he had shockingly been doing.

Nymphadora was... persistent. And, as she said, such a show of persistence should be rewarded. If Nymphadora believed an adequate reward was a nearly thirty-six year old dungeon bat, then that was her problem, he supposed. He had attempted to warn her away, but the stubborn witch refused to see reason and Severus gave in to her advances. And it had not been unpleasant, so far. Severus believed that eventually Nymphadora would find a more suitable partner, and they would part ways, and it would perhaps be painful, but Severus was surely not someone Nymphadora envisioned a whole life with.

If Severus had a whole life ahead of him. Which, with the quest of the Hallows before him, he began to believe (foolishly and desperately hoped and prayed) that he did.

“I do,” he answered Harry, focusing on the task at hand. “How did you manage to earn a weeks worth of detentions while you were the luckiest person in the castle?”

“I got them the morning after,” Harry said. “I... er... well, I didn’t stay at Hogwarts that night, exactly, I stayed with Fred at George’s flat... and Sirius was a bit peeved over it, and then I might have said that I... shagged Fred.”

Severus was suddenly struck with dual emotions quite strongly.

Irritated that the Brat-Who-Lived-To-Give-Severus-Heart-Failure had snuck out of the castle, illegally apparated himself to Diagon Alley, and had not bothered to even inform Severus that he had left. Even though there was an active war going on and Harry had a price on his head from both sides.

But also... Severus was pleased, in a peculiar way, that Harry had overcome that particular trauma in his life. Truthfully, Severus had worried that, despite Frederick’s words stating otherwise, that the two of them would eventually separate due to Harry’s sexual dysfunctions. Yet, it seemed as if—

“Wait- he what?!” Severus demanded, suddenly murderously furious with Frederick. “He had intercourse with you while you were obviously incapacitated?!”

Severus would kill him.

He would snap the boy’s neck and toss him in a pit, never to be found.

“What? No!” Harry said quickly, shaking his head in denial. “I mean, er... I wanted to, but then Fred found out I had taken that potion and he... er... turned me down... until the next morning... when I wasn’t high.”

Oh.

Severus might still kill him anyway. Frederick could be quite irksome at times.

“Just to be absolutely clear, Harry, you consumed three times the normal portion of Felix Felicis and the ultimate goal it led you to was sex?” Severus asked skeptically.

Harry grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Guess so,” he said.

As chaotic as Harry was, as wrapped up and centrally located in a war as Harry was, it was oftentimes difficult to remember he was still a sixteen year old young man. Until moments such as that.

“Absurd,” Severus told him. “You are truly absurd, child.”

“Absurd and going to be late for detention,” Harry glanced at his wristwatch. “Unless you could get me out of it?” he asked hopefully.

“I would not even if I could,” Severus smirked. He was surprised, though not displeased, that Black punished Harry for his antics. Severus had been soft on Harry recently, overlooking his behavior as he preemptively mourned him. It was a small relief that someone else had picked up Severus’ slack. “You deserved it,” he told Harry truthfully. “I would have assigned much more than one week of detentions.”

He wouldn’t have. He should have, but Harry had a true knack for evading discipline from Severus through blatant favoritism.

A small measure of unfairness to balance all the unfairness that had been poured on the child’s head since birth.

“Bastard,” Harry scowled. He got to his feet and cocked his head at Severus. “Did you want something specific? Or just to hang out?”

“Something specific,” Severus said. He had nearly forgotten his quest to inspect Harry’s cloak until now in the face of Harry’s admission. “Your invisibility cloak, if you would not mind loaning it to me for a short amount of time.”

“Why?” Harry asked, instantly wary. “I need it.”

“I would like to inspect it, I believe it could be quite valuable,” Severus said smoothly, not a single lie in his words. “You have my word, Harry, that I will return it to you.”

Harry reached in to his backpack and hesitantly pulled out his cherished heirloom. “You’ll give it back? You aren’t taking it cause you’re mad about something?”

“I am not mad, and I will return it the moment I am finished with it,” Severus assured him.

“‘Kay... here.” Harry handed him the silk woven purple cloak and then glanced at his watch again. “I gotta go, I’ll see you Sunday?”

“Sunday,” Severus agreed. “Have fun in detention.”

Harry scowled again, causing Severus to chuckle a little, then quickly dashed off.

And Severus was left with a sense of pride so strong he nearly choked on it.

There had been a day, not so long ago, that Harry would have required nothing short of an Unbreakable Vow before he would leave a cherished possession with Severus. But not now. Now he trusted Severus when he told him he would return it.

Harry had grown and matured so much.

And, Severus slid the cloak between his fingers thoughtfully, perhaps he could continue to do so despite all odds.



Severus retired to his quarters to study Harry’s cloak more carefully. At first glance, the cloak held no specific uniqueness that would indicate it to be such a powerful object. An adult sized cloak, roughly the size and shape of a large bed sheet. The material was purple, with interwoven strands of silver to give it a shimmering appearance. It seemed to be made of a fine silk, softer and more sturdy than even acromantula silk.

It was undoubtedly expensive, possibly entirely priceless, but it was not the material itself that made it so. It was the power it held that Severus had never questioned before.

Invisibility cloaks, even ones that cost more than the newest broomstick on the market, had a tendency to fade in their power after a time. Severus had never known of one to still offer entirely invisible properties after a decade or so, and yet this one was supposedly James Potter’s before it was Harry’s.

Where did James receive it from?

Severus moved the cloak out of sight and quickly ducked his head in his floo before he could change his mind.

“Remus Lupin’s office, Moon Lodge.”

It took the wolf only a moment to notice Severus’ head in his fire and to approach his floo with a quizzical expression.

“Severus? Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Severus said curtly. “James Potter, he owned an Invisibility Cloak, correct? A purple silk one?”

“Yes?” Lupin said slowly. “Why?”

“Never mind that,” Severus snapped. “Where did he receive it from?”

Lupin rubbed the scruff on his chin thoughtfully as his eyes went unfocused. “Hmm... I think he said he got it from his father, Fleamont, who got it from his father before him. James said, after Harry was born, that it was a family tradition to pass it from father from son.”

Not only had James had it since his childhood, likely over twenty years ago, but it had been in his family for at least a hundred years?

There had never been a cloak such as that in existence.

Severus’ sense of excitement grew. “Do you know where they originally got it from?” he asked quickly. “Did they purchase it somewhere? Or did one of them create it?”

Fleamont had been an inventor, of sorts. It would not be entirely unfathomable that one of his ancestors carried his same ingenuity and dove in to the depths of magic to pull out such a one of a kind item.

“I don’t know,” Lupin said with an apologetic frown. “I just know it’s a very old Potter family heirloom. I doubt if James even knows of where they first got it from, he didn’t see much value in it past using it for pranks, you know.”

Yes. Severus was quite aware now of what invisible entity within the castle once followed him around hexing him.

“I am aware,” he said tartly, sour at the memory. “If you remember anything else about the cloak, will you reach out to me in a discreet method?”

“Of course,” Lupin agreed with an easy smile. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why you’re so interested in it, will you?”

“I will not. Good day.”

Severus left Lupin with a bemused expression as he abruptly pulled his head from the fire.

Hundreds of years.

Severus plucked the cloak back up and threw it over his body. He conjured a mirror and stared at his entirely invisible reflection.

Such a cloak had never existed. Ever.



“This is it,” he whispered to himself wondrously. He would do his due diligence in verifying the cloaks origins, but he had a instinctive feeling that Harry had been unknowingly carrying around Death’s Cloak for years now. “One hallow down.”

Two to go.

53%

“It’s... it’s definitely unique,” Nymphadora said on Saturday afternoon after Severus shared with her all that he had discovered about Harry’s cloak. She examined the material closely and even squinted at it through one eye. “I just... I don’t know, Sev, do you really think the Hallows are real?”

“How many invisibility cloaks do you know of that have lasted centuries without becoming useless?” Severus asked her. “I know of one.”

“Yeah... yeah, I mean, you’re right,” she said slowly, carefully handing Severus back the cloak. “This could be the cloak, and we know that there’s a powerful wand in history made of elder, but a resurrection stone? Do you really think it’s possible to bring back the dead?”

“Is it any more unlikely than a stone that gave everlasting life?” Severus asked her, pacing in front of the sofa she sat on while he thought aloud. “Is it any more unreasonable than a man storing pieces of his soul in objects? More fantastical than a man storing a piece of his soul within a body that holds its own soul? This is all lore, Nymphadora. None of this is based in facts, or logic.”

“Right... I agree with you there,” she said. “So are we willing to risk Harry’s life on elements based heavily in fantasy and fiction?”

Severus paused his pacing long enough to give Nymphadora a derisive scoff. “According to muggles, we are fantasy.” Severus nearly smiled as he recalled something Harry once spewed at him in a manic rant. “We’re magic, Nymphadora. We can do anything we want. I believe basilisk venom is the key to curing cancer. Broomsticks can fly. Your cousin can turn in to a dog. Why shouldn’t a fictional tale hold the secrets to saving a boy from an unimaginable scenario?”

Nymphadora still looked skeptical, but a reasonable amount of skepticism was helpful. Severus knew, logically, that he was desperate to find a way to save Harry. He wanted the child to live, more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, perhaps more than anyone in history had ever wanted anything. This bone-deep desire could lead Severus to lie to himself.

If Nymphadora had to bring forth logic and counter his arguments with skepticism, so the better. A counter-argument could only strengthen the original argument.

“And, look here.” Severus summoned the book Minerva lent him from his bedside table and flipped it open. He pulled out the parchment he had taken careful notes on and read it aloud to her. “Fleamont was born to Charlus Potter. Charlus Potter was born to Henry Potter, who was orphaned and adopted at a young age and whose biological father was known to be Edward Peverell, grandson of Ignotus Peverell.”

Nymphadora blinked and then her face softened as she looked up from the book Severus thrust at her to his face. “You haven’t been sleeping,” she said. She gently traced the bags beneath his eyes and gave him a sympathetic smile that was quite out of place in the moment. “Why don’t you go rest and we can look at this with fresh eyes in the morning?”

Severus had not been sleeping. Severus had spent his entire night Thursday night, his entire day Friday, and the majority of Friday night in the library beneath Harry’s cloak as he shamelessly overused Pepper-Up Potions and pursued every book available on ancestry and notable wizards, creating an adequate and logical family tree dating back to the year 1218.

“Do not patronize me,” Severus snapped, pulling the book away and tossing it on the sofa alongside Harry’s cloak. “I am trying to tell you that it all fits. All of it.”

“All of what?” Nymphadora asked, raising her voice to match Severus’. “Who cares who Harry’s great-great-great-whatever was? How does that help us keep him alive?”

Severus ignored her agitated tone in favor of relishing in her use of the phrase ‘help us keep him alive’. How long had it been since Severus felt as if he had an equal to work with? Someone determined to assist him in reaching his goals for no ulterior motive than because they knew the goals were important to Severus?

Had he ever had such a person before?

“Ignotus Peverell had two brothers,” Severus said, attempting to temper his own tone. “Antioch and Cadmus—”

“Daft names,” Nymphadora snorted.

“Indeed,” he smiled slightly. “Cadmus had a single heir, an unacknowledged bastard, before he killed himself. Damon, who also had a single son, Salazar.”

“So... Salazar Slytherin is the grandson of Cadmus Peverell,” Nymphadora said, “and that helps how...?”

“Wait please,” Severus said patiently. “Salazar fathered the Gaunt line, an extinct line that ends with Morfin and Merope. And Merope was—”

“Voldemort’s mother,” Nymphadora gasped. “So Harry and Voldemort are cousins, distantly?”

Dear Lord. Never let Harry hear such a thing.

“Of a sort,” Severus grimaced. “Though that is not the point I am attempting to make. The eldest Peverell brother, Antioch, was killed in a duel in Germany, leaving behind a wife and six sons. One of those sons became the great-grandfather to a well-known wand maker, Mykew Gregorovitch.”

“Great,” Nymphadora said, clapping her hands together brightly. “Well, I feel really well-informed about bloody ancient ancestry. Now, should we focus on Harry or can we have a drink?”

“It is all one and the same topic,” Severus said. He flicked his wand and summoned a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Help yourself,” he told her. “And I will explain.”

“Sev.” Nymphadora held up the bottle Severus sent to her with a queer look on her face. “Where’d you get this?”

Severus flicked his eyes absently over the French label and furrowed his brows. “I ordered it,” he told her, unsure why it was relevant in the face of an unprecedented breakthrough in their crusade to save Harry’s life. “Or, rather, I asked Narcissa to order a few bottles of it over the summer,” he amended himself. “My French is hardly up to par with hers.”

“Why?” Nymphadora asked. “You don’t really drink wine?”

“I...” Severus trailed off in confusion and his furrow grew. “You like it, do you not? You said it was a brand you enjoyed?”

She had said that, Severus was certain of it. She mentioned it during one of the times she had spent loitering in his office last year. Severus had offered her a glass of scotch and she sighed and said she missed the wine in France she drank during a mission once, specifically the Cote de Nuits.

“I do,” Nymphadora said, a small smile blooming on her lips. “Just to be clear here, I mentioned liking a particular brand of wine, and not only did you remember it, but you had Narcissa order it over the summer so you could keep it in stock here?”

“Yes?”

Had Severus been speaking in riddles? Was that not what he just said?

Perhaps Nymphadora was the one going without adequate sleep.

“Just checking,” she said with an expression torn between a smirk and a smile. She poured two glasses and placed Severus’ on the small table and tucked her feet beneath herself on the sofa as she took a small sip. “Go on, then. Let’s here your theory on how ancient ancestry proves the existence of items gifted by death.”

Severus gave her a puzzled frown at her odd line of questioning, but quickly appeased her request.

“Think about it, connect the lines for yourself. The Peverell brothers were noted as extraordinarily powerful wizards. Stronger than Merlin, even. There are hundreds of spells, potions, even creatures that they were credited with creating. I doubt if ‘Death’ gifted these items to them, but what if they created them, Nymphadora? Flamel created a stone giving everlasting life, I do not find it unlikely that Cadmus created a stone that brought back a spirit from the afterlife.”

“Wait- why Cadmus?” Nymphadora interrupted him. “Why do you think Cadmus created it?”

“Because it all fits,” Severus stressed. “The eldest brother created the most powerful wand in known history, his descendant carried the tradition on in his own powerful wand-making skills. Cadmus created a stone to bring back the dead, his descendant tore apart his soul in an effort to avoid death.”

“And Ignotus created a cloak so his descendant could one day sneak around school and shag his fiancé,” Nymphadora nodded solemnly. “You’re right, Sev, it all fits.”

Severus sighed—

Heavily

—and shook his head in exasperation.

“You are incredibly irritating,” he told her with only a small hint of fondness. He stopped his erratic pacing and sat on the sofa beside her and grabbed his own drink. “Does it truly sound unbelievable?”

Nymphadora sighed and scooted closer to him, slowly laying her head on his shoulder. “It sounds like a mad and desperate idea to grasp on to,” she said softly. “But... but we live in mad and desperate times, don’t we? And there does seem to be some credible ideas within the mix there.”

If Nymphadora believed that there was a chance, however small, that this could be the path they needed to pursue, then Severus felt incrementally more sane.

“I am going to go to Austria,” Severus said. “I need to speak to Grindewald.”

“What?!” Nymphadora sat up and stared at Severus with shock that brought the topic of his sanity back in to question. “Why would you do that?”

“They were researching the Hallows,” Severus explained, “Grindewald and Albus. I’m certain it was why Albus had possession of the cloak the night the Potters were attacked. What if they found another one, Nymphadora? What if Grindewald knows where one, or even both, of the others are? Harry needs all three.”

Harry needed to become the Master of Death, as partially horrifying as the thought was. Severus was certain that the Master of Death would have the ability to outlast the death that would be required to evict the horcrux within his body.

Severus needed it to be true because he needed Harry to live.

No entity on earth deserved to live their life as much as Harry did.

“You can’t just waltz in to Nurmengard and speak to Gellert Grindewald,” Nymphadora hissed. “Merlin, Sev. Even aurors don’t have that kind of privilege.”

“Do aurors have Death’s Cloak of Invisibility?” Severus asked calmly.

Nymphadora seemed caught off guard for a moment before she quickly rallied. “No, but you don’t need to go putting yourself on an international watchlist by breaking into Nurmengard either,” she said. “Is there a way to ask Albus about it? See if he knows anything?”

“Albus would never tell me if he did,” Severus scowled. “He has yet to tell me about the horcrux within Harry. Albus has his own plans on how to end the war, and he has kept those plans rather close to his chest.”

Nymphadora clacked her teeth on the side of her glass while she gazed off at the wall, lost in thought.

It was quite distracting- her nibbling on the glass.

But Severus would not allow it to distract him from his current goal. Not at present. There was too much at stake, everything at stake, to act as a besotted schoolboy.

“Gregorovitch,” Nymphadora said suddenly, causing Severus to twitch guiltily at the way he had been quite rudely staring at her teeth and lips wrapped around her glass. “We might have the cloak, so we need the stone and the wand, right? Gregorovitch is still alive. Let’s go ask him about the Elder Wand. That one, at least, sounds reasonably simple to track. The Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, those wands were all made of elder. It could be the same wand with different names popping up through history.”

“Would it not be simpler to ask Grindewald what he knows?”

“Simpler? Maybe,” Nymphadora scoffed. “If by simpler you mean hoping he tells us the truth, hoping he knows anything at all, oh and hoping we don’t get caught, questioned by the International Confederation of Wizards on why we were in Nurmengard in the first place. But yeah,” she paused to take a sip of her wine, “that sounds much simpler than an innocent sightseeing trip to Germany where we happen to stop and speak with a world-renown wandmaker.”

Severus raised his brows high as she turned a challenging and impudent look towards him. “I believe you could have said that without the additional cheek.”

“I could have,” she agreed, smiling outright and tilting her head conspiratorially towards his. “But where’s the fun in that?” she whispered with a wink.

“Where indeed?” Severus murmured, momentarily distracted by the deep violet color of her irises.

Focus.

“Ahem.” Severus cleared his throat and shifted away slightly. “Then I will go to Germany first, see what Gregorovitch knows.”

“Orrrrr... I can just go,” Nymphadora said slowly and thoughtfully. “I doubt you want to leave the country with Harry here, do you?”

He did not.

Harry would somehow find a way to end the current war and begin a new one if Severus left him unsupervised for too long.

She grinned knowingly at Severus’ lack of a response. “And international portkeys are getting to be difficult for you common folk to acquire. I could get one, easy. The witch that runs the department owes me a favor. If you’d keep a good eye on Susan for me, I could get a portkey and be there and back in less than two weeks, maybe even quicker.”

“You would do that?” Severus asked her. “You would go to Germany and question Gregorovitch for me?”

“Certainly not for free,” Nymphadora said, a mischievous glimmer alighting in her eyes.

“Oh?” Severus asked, playing along to what he was certain, based on her expression, would be a jest of some sort. “And what terrible price would I have to pay for this great favor?”

“First,” Nymphadora leaned forward slowly, placing her lips mere centimeters from his, “I believe we are no longer in the same house as our nosy teenagers, so I’d like to take you back up on that offer to not sleep in your bed,” she whispered, her breath on his lips sending a slight shiver down his spine.

“Acceptable,” he murmured. He didn’t bother to correct her that technically they were still within the same castle as their incredibly invasive and meddling teenagers. They had not found many opportunities to be alone over the holiday, as Nymphadora assisted Susan in clearing out Bones Cottage and Severus had been caught up in his research. And when they did find themselves alone, it was while sharing a house with Harry ‘I Have No Boundaries and Will Sprawl Across Severus’ Bed At Any Given Time’ Potter and Susan ‘I Ask Too Many Questions In Public About My Guardian’s Romantic Life’ Bones.

Which did not lend much assistance towards intimacy.

“Secondly,” Nymphadora pulled away slightly, causing Severus to unconsciously lean towards her, “what are the odds that you’d be willing to redecorate your room, just a bit?”

“What?” Severus pulled back this time, entirely confused by the request. “Redecorate my room?”

What kind of a mad request was that? Granted, Severus had a minimal history with intimacy of any sort, certainly none of the romantic kind, but he was unsure how a paint job was meant to help or hinder it in any way.

“I’m going to say something, and you’re not going to like it much,” Nymphadora said, shifting uneasily beside him. “I snooped in your room, once. Just poked my head in, made sure there wasn’t really a coffin, you know.”

Severus snorted. “You looked in my incredibly private bedroom to ensure that I do not hoard dark and cursed items as your coworkers have undoubtedly warned you that I do,” he corrected her. “Understood. Go on.”

“Right,” Nymphadora grinned unabashedly at his accurate rephrasing. “And... well... I know she was your friend, but... I don’t much fancy getting undressed in front of a photo of Lily Potter on your nightstand.”

Son of a bitch.

Severus sat back and carefully cleared his face from showing any emotions.

He had forgotten about that photo. It had been a gift, from Harry, back in his first year. Albus had sent the child a book of photographs of his parents, and Harry, knowing Severus’ connection to his mother, gave Severus one of Lily on her wedding day playfully blowing a kiss at whoever took her photo. The fact that Harry gave it to him had meant nearly as much as the photograph itself. Severus kept it displayed in an area only he traveled in, as a reminder of the friend he once had, and the person who drove his vow to protect Harry which grew to become Severus’ love of Lily’s son.

His son.

Severus would not remove the photograph. It was not a magical portrait with the ability to speak and carry on conversation, merely a common wizarding photograph that played a few seconds of a loop. It was a gift. And Severus would keep it right where he had it.

It was an absurd request to make.

Yet... Perhaps it was due to his relatively sleep-deprived mind, or his own lessons on empathy to Harry that drew the thought up, but... but what if Severus entered Nymphadora’s bedroom and found a framed photographed of her friend, Charles Weasley, on her nightstand?

It was this flare of petulant jealousy that caused Severus to clear his throat once more.

“Also acceptable,” he said evenly. “I have been meaning to give that back to Harry, at any rate. He gave it to me, as a gift of sorts.”

Nymphadora had a much too knowing look on her face when she hesitantly spoke. “You don’t have to get rid of it, that’s not what I’m saying. I know she was your friend, and you loved her. Just, maybe... maybe move it?” She smiled at him with a bit more of her typical confidence. “I’m not daft, Sev, I know I’m not your first anything, but... but I’d like to be the photograph on your nightstand one day, does that make sense?”

It did.

Severus gave her an appreciative smile and stood, offering her his hand and pulling her close once she grasped it. “You are the first for many things,” he told her quietly. “You are the first to assist me so altruistically and enthusiastically. You are about to be the first witch to sleep in my bed with me. And...” Severus swallowed as he attempted to be as open with her as she had always been with him. “And you are the first person whose photograph I would be pleased to place on my nightstand, current photograph notwithstanding.”

“Truly?” Nymphadora breathed, looking up at him with earnest and bright eyes.

“Truly.”

Nymphadora’s undeserved look of awe shifted to a more characteristically open and playful smile. “What if I don’t want to sleep in your bed?”

Severus dipped his head down, placing his mouth beside her ear. “What if you are exhausted?” he murmured in a soft and silky tone. “What if you are simply drained of all energy?” He smirked a bit smugly as Nymphadora’s neck erupted in tiny goosebumps.

It was revolutionary to him, Nymphadora’s reactions. As much as she affected him, it seemed as if he were able to affect her just as much.

“That’s a high bar to set,” she told him as the blacks of her pupils seemed to dilate. “Anything less than an absolute drain of my energy will be such a letdown.”

“Come.” Severus held her hand and pulled her gently towards his room. “Let’s see if I cannot silence your endless wit for a while, hmm?”

Nymphadora laughed, eagerly allowing him to lead her to his room.

“One moment, please,” Severus told her. He kissed her knuckles chastely before dropping her hand and slipping in to his room alone.

Severus took a deep breath to steady himself as he stared down at the photograph of Lily.

Lily had been his friend- his first friend. She had been his confidant, and his rock during a tumultuous childhood. Severus had loved her, but he ultimately let her down. He had not been the kind of person at the time to understand a selfless sort of love, and how could he? Severus certainly had never seen it modeled for him within his home or with his classmates at the time.

He stared in to Lily’s green eyes and thought of Harry. As much as Severus taught Harry, and as much as he hoped to continue teaching Harry, about life, Harry did not come without lessons for Severus as well.

Lessons on selfless love.

Lessons on what it truly meant to place someone else above yourself.

Severus never could have offered Lily that, and she knew it. She found it in James, and they died together as they selflessly attempted to save their child’s life.

Did it mean that Severus could not change, that he could not become a better person now than the one he had been in his past?

Could Severus not be the person who did not let someone down, who placed someone else’s happiness above his own, aside from only Harry?

“I can,” he whispered to Lily’s photograph. “Thank you, friend, for Harry.” Severus grabbed the photo and moved to his closet, to the top shelf with his belongings that he no longer required, but refused to trash, such as his parents’ marriage certificate. “Goodbye,” he said, reaching up and carefully placing Lily’s photograph in the box. “Rest easy.”

Severus expected he would feel grief, removing the photograph from his beside table. Instead, curiously, he felt... lighter.

The beside table, much as Severus’ future, was blank.

Empty.

Free.

Free from the past.

Able to be decorated however he wished.

With the assistance of the Hallows, perhaps he could one day place a photograph of Harry’s ministerial election there. Or a framed newspaper clipping of Harry winning the World Cup.

He could begrudgingly add a photo of Harry’s wedding.

And... perhaps... Severus moved to the door, opening it to Nymphadora with a small smile, which she responded to with a bright smile of joy... perhaps he would one day add a photograph of Nymphadora to his table.

54%

Wednesday, January 14

“I’m sooo bored,” Harry whined, thunking his head dramatically on the lunch table. “What’s the point in even finishing school?”

“Obtaining your NEWTS,” Hermione said haughtily.

“Quidditch,” said Trent.

“Being with me,” Susan flicked Harry in the head irritatingly.

“Not much, honestly,” Luna hummed.

Harry blindly reached down the table until he was sure he was near Luna and reached out to pat her arm.

“That’s the spirit,” he said.

“You are groping my chest.”

Harry sat up quickly and turned a wide eyed look at Draco, who had a single blonde brow raised at where Harry’s hand had actually been on his chest.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry yelped, pulling his hand away quickly as heat climbed up his neck. “Fuck. Sorry, Dray. I thought you were Luna.”

“Am I meant to be less offended that you were intending on groping Luna’s chest?” Draco scowled while the others roared with laughter.

“No! Fuck! No!” Harry said quickly. “I was trying to squeeze her arm, like ‘thanks for backing me up, Lue’. Jesus.”

“If I could make a suggestion,” Blaise said with a lazy grin, “perhaps look before you go squeezing at a young lady such as Miss Lovegood?”

“Shut up,” Harry grit out as everyone else laughed again. “Lue, I wasn’t trying to grope you.”

“I know,” Luna said with a grin and an airy flip of her hand. “You meant to grope Draco, obviously.”

Harry thunked his head on the table again, rattling the dishes near him. This time though, he tucked his hands beneath his legs.

No need to add fuel to the never ending Hogwarts rumor mill.

There had been a new rumor circulating around the castle, no doubt started by Ginny fucking Weasley, that Harry was ‘polyamorous’. Harry had no idea what it meant when one of the fifth year Slytherins nervously came up to him and told him about the rumor. Then Theo explained it and Harry misunderstood and wound up having a bit of a spat with Fred over it.



Harry had thrown himself in the dorm, temporarily locking the other boys out and snapped Fred’s name angrily in the mirror.

“You look like you’re in a delightful mood,” Fred grinned at Harry’s fuming expression. “What’s up, darlin?”

Harry spoke slowly and clearly, despite his annoyance, “I do not fucking consent to us having multiple other sexual partners.”

Fred pulled the mirror a little away from himself as he blinked at Harry in surprise. “Yeaaaah,” he said slowly, “me either.”

“Theo said that people are saying we have ‘multiple sexual partners’ and I’m telling you right now, no,” Harry scowled. “I don’t care how fuckin lonely you might get. You can bloody well wait for me, can’t you?”

“Harry, light of my life, my one and only, my happily ever after, can I call you back?”

“Why?” Harry asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Wellll...” Fred tilted the mirror around and Harry blanched and had to quickly pull up his ‘I am Draco Malfoy, and emotions are for peasants’ mask as George, Bill, and Charlie all waved a bit awkwardly at him.

“Hiya, Harrikins,” George yelled. “Good on you. I too enjoy starting my conversations off with stating my monogamous lifestyle.”

And, since Harry had no fucking idea what that meant, he ignored him.

“Call me back when you have time,” Harry hissed at Fred when his face came back in view. “Jesus.”



They cleared it up that night.

Apparently, when Theo said that people saying Harry was polyamorous, he meant that the other students thought Harry was ‘involved’ with multiple partners. Not that Fred was.

Harry apologized to Fred, but Fred thought it was a laugh and told Harry that he should start all his calls off like that because his brothers thought it was hilarious.

It was no wonder Harry kept cocking it up with Fred’s family. Sometimes, just sometimes, he thought that Snape’s sarcastic advice of ‘thinking before he speaks’ held some merit after all.



Either way, Harry groping Draco’s chest certainly wasn’t going to convince anyone that he wasn’t having sex with all of his friends.

“Am I a knife wielding maniac with a grudge against the Gryffindor’s or a shameless slag shagging all of you?” Harry asked, turning his head and eyeing his friends thoughtfully. “It would be a bit weird, any of you wanting to shag me if I’m such a psycho, wouldn’t it?”

“Not really,” Susan shrugged. “People are attracted to psycho’s all the time. In fact, I think you’d be much more attractive if you were going around stabbing the Gryffindor quidditch team.”

“Not all of the Gryffindor quidditch team,” Trent said hastily with a quick red-cheeked look over his shoulder and a little wave to Sapphire.

“If you are stabbing Gryffindor’s, I would pay you to take Sapphire out next,” Daphne said sweetly.

Harry sat up and gave Daphne an incredulous look, as did Trent. “Why?” Harry asked. He glanced over at the Gryffindors and watched as Sapphire laughed at something one of her classmates said and tossed her brunette hair over her shoulder. “Sapphire’s a bit weird, but she’s alright, really.”

“She’s a good keeper, it would make beating Gryffindor easier,” Ron said quickly. He shared a little secret grin with Daphne that made Harry doubt the truth in his reasoning though. “And, no offense, Susan, but I’d be less likely to join Harry’s weird little harem if he was the one stabbing people. That’s barmy.”

“‘Less likely’?” Theo asked, smirking at Ron. “So there’s a chance now?”

Daphne laughed at Ron’s sudden look of horror as he glanced at Harry. Harry raised his brows, silently daring Ron to insult him, and Ron shook his head with a chuckle.

“Fred would kill me,” he said with a grin. “Sorry, Harry, I guess we’ll never know how great we would be.”

Harry laughed, appeased by Ron’s surprisingly tactful answer. “Shame,” he drawled. “I suppose I’ll leave you to Daphne.”

This time it was Daphne’s turn to blush as everyone laughed. Then Blaise leaned forward and smirked at Harry from his spot by Neville (who, apparently, he was not dating. Harry had no idea why they would say they were, but Draco called Harry an idiot and said Neville was ‘as straight as a stick’. Which actually made Draco the idiot since most sticks weren’t actually all that straight).

“Harry, darling, if you were going to start shagging us, who would you start with?” Blaise asked with a challenging glint in his gold eyes.

Harry would have ignored him, or hexed him, but everyone else turned to look at Harry and he knew Blaise expected him to not respond- so obviously he had to.

Harry ignored Theo and Draco, since they were actually related and that would be disgusting. He also ignored Trent, who was just a kid, which was also disgusting.

Hermione was too bossy. Too much of a know-it-all. Harry thought sex with her might be a bit like following an instruction manual and he wasn’t interested at all in even hypothetically finding out if it was true.

Daphne was gorgeous, honestly one of the best looking witches in the castle. Long blonde hair, smooth pale skin, blue eyes with a spark in them that was interesting. Harry didn’t know much about her though, which made him uneasy.

Lue was gorgeous too. Probably one of the prettiest witches ever, full stop. She was sweet, compassionate, and brilliant. If it weren’t for Fred and Draco, Harry probably would have fallen for Luna, honestly. He’d never meet a better person than Luna Lovegood. But Blaise didn’t ask who Harry would date, and just shagging people was quite a bit different. Plus, Harry couldn’t imagine ever being with Luna in any way where he could accidentally hurt her. So she was off the list.

Ron wasn’t bad looking, even looked like Fred a bit. But Ron had once cracked Harry’s rib and split his lip open, and, unlike Susan, Harry didn’t think a ‘rough shag’ sounded all that great.

Harry’s eyes flicked between Neville, Blaise, and Susan for a moment while everyone snickered and watched him assess them all. Neville had gotten rather handsome recently, he’d gotten quite a bit taller this year and carried himself with more confidence in a way that was attractive. He was also thoughtful, polite, and had a nice smile.

Blaise was probably the most attractive bloke in the school though. His sharp cheekbones and equally sharp eyes were appealing, in a way. Harry had also beaten him easily in a hand-to-hand fight, so he doubted if Blaise could accidentally crush him during sex. Blaise was very cunning though, which was a good quality to have in a friend and ally, but not in almost any other relationship.

And Susan... Susan with her magical golden arm that could crush Harry’s bones to dust... Susan was tall and curvy in the way that Harry knew that guys appreciated. And she had nice hair, shiny red curls, but... but she looked a bit like his mum Lily Potter, which was a weird thing to think and made up Harry’s mind instantly.

“Neville,” he told Blaise confidently. “I’m not going to, and you can tell your little gossip buddies in the other houses that, but if I did, I suppose I’d start with Neville.”

“How rude,” Susan sniffed while Neville winked at Harry and everyone else laughed loudly enough to bring quite a few sets of eyes towards their seats in the Great Hall. “I happen to be a great shag, Harry Potter.”

Harry scoffed and sneered at the Ravenclaw’s who were watching them and whispering to one another. “If I ever become ‘polyamorous’, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said sarcastically.

“I don’t know if I’m offended, or relieved,” Daphne said thoughtfully. “Relieved, I suppose.”

“Personally, I’m insulted,” said Blaise. “I suppose your crush on my mother must have kept you from seeing that obviously I am the most shaggable person in our gang.”

“I do not have a crush on your mother,” Harry lied in a harsh whisper. “Shut the fuck up, Zabini.”

He did.

The Contessa was brilliant.

Beautiful. Deadly. Smart. Powerful. Important.

Free to live her life however she wanted, not giving a damn if it made her friends or foes along the way.

She was everything Harry ever wanted to be.

It was actually a bit embarrassing how much Harry adored her.

Thankfully, the bell rang before Blaise could quip back with anything else embarrassing.

“Where are you off to?” Theo asked curiously as Harry sighed and tossed his bag over his shoulder.

“Library,” Harry said morosely. “I’ve got that essay for Slughorn due Monday, don’t I?”

“The essay on the dangers of Polyjuice and animal hair?” Hermione asked. “Harry, that was due today.”

“Right,” Harry nodded, “but I didn’t do it. And I told Slughorn that. So he said I could turn it in Monday.”

“Slughorn would let you kill Macmillan in the middle of class and pretend he never noticed,” Draco sighed and shook his head at Harry with mock-disapproval. “Teachers pet.”

“Jealous prat,” Harry told him with a grin. “Have fun in class, I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

Harry waved at everyone else as he made his way to the library with a lazy strut. He’d honestly rather go... well... anywhere, really, than go sit in the library and try to focus on writing an essay, but he couldn’t just turn in a blank parchment and a roguish smile.

... could he?

No.

No. Probably not.

It was this overall apathy and lack of an interest towards his task that led Harry to noticing the other students still in the corridors more than usual. He waved to a few Slytherin boys who called his name and waved, he stopped to chat with a younger Hufflepuff girl who asked him about quidditch, and nearly made it to the library when he was stopped by a set of twins.

They were entirely identical, with their long straight black hair and their almond shaped eyes. One of them had a pair of dangly silver earrings and a Gryffindor tie on and the other wore a woolly hand-knit scar and a Ravenclaw tie though.

Harry thought they might be in his year, he recognized them vaguely, but he wasn’t sure.

“Hi, Harry,” the girl with the Gryffindor tie said with a bright smile.

“Hello,” Harry said. He leaned on the wall next to the library doorway and gave them a curious look. “What’s up?”

“We wanted to ask you for a favor,” the Ravenclaw twin said, dropping her voice to a hushed whisper. “Would you mind putting up a privacy shield?”

Harry quirked a brow and smirked as he twitched his pinky the slightest bit and placed a bubble around them. He kind of doubted they wanted to fight him. If they did, then they were idiots because not only would Harry kill them, but they’d chosen a place full of witnesses.

“We have a problem, and we were hoping we could talk to you about it,” the Gryffindor girl said. “Blaise and Susan said you’re trustworthy.”

“Did they?” Harry hummed. Harry’s eyes flicked over the girl’s tie and he gave her a skeptical look. “And what do your housemates say?”

“They say you’re an arse,” she said with a brazen look in her eyes and a factual lilt to her tone. “You’re terrifying, you’re a killer, you’re going to take over the world one day and nobody will be safe.”

Harry shrugged modestly. He would have been flattered, honestly, until the other girl chimed in.

“I heard you and your friends have orgies in the Slytherin dorms.”

Whoever said ‘no publicity is bad publicity’ was a moron that Harry would be happy to have a talk with someday.

“We don’t,” Harry said coolly, his hand clenching with irritation. “What favor do you want?” he sneered at her.

The girls exchanged a long look, doing that weird twin thing that made Harry wonder if muggle twins could read each other’s minds like magical ones seemed able to or not.

“Our parents want us to leave Hogwarts,” the Ravenclaw girl said in a brisk tone. “We don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because they think Dumbledore isn’t enough to protect the school,” the Gryffindor girl said.

“No.” Harry rolled his eyes. He knew why parents were yanking their kids out of Hogwarts left and right. Snape said the school had lost a quarter of the students so far, and the numbers increased with every death eater attack. “I meant, why don’t you want to quit?”

“We like it here,” the Ravenclaw girl said incredulously, as if it were ridiculous to consider otherwise. “We want to finish our education and stay here with our peers. We don’t want to leave.”

“How old are you?” Harry asked them.

“Sixteen,” she said. “So you see our problem.”

“I mean, yeah, but it definitely seems like a you problem,” Harry shrugged. “I’m not sure how I could help, I’m not sure why I would bother. I don’t even know who you are.”

The Gryffindor girls jaw dropped and she looked suddenly offended. “Parvati Patil,” she said slowly. “We’re in your year. We’ve shared classes together for years.”

That’s right. Harry remembered Sirius mentioning a set of twins in his year on Halloween. He knew the two of them looked a bit familiar.

“Padma,” the other one said, her hand stuck out to Harry. Harry glanced at it then gave her a cool look. She dropped her hand without a fuss once it was obvious Harry wasn’t going to shake it. “And we need a letter of support to file for emancipation with the Ministry. We wanted to ask you to write us one. We already have one from Lavender Brown’s father, agreeing to let us stay with their family. And we have one from Madame Malkin and Mister Fortescue, saying we can work for them this summer this summer to save money. But one from Harry Potter would rather seal the deal, don’t you think?”

Harry laughed lightly, a smirk playing around his lips. “Why would I do that? We aren’t friends. I doubt if you have anything I want.”

Parvati’s lip trembled a little, but Padma narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.

“Dumbledore wouldn’t do it either,” she said. “He thinks we should listen to our parents. Is that what you think as well?”

Harry probably would have done it just to prove that he had nothing in common, Padma’s goal in saying that he was sure, but he wouldn’t do it for free. And if he didn’t even remember their names after six years of shared classes, he doubted if they were people he wanted to owe him a favor.

“Seems like you’re in a bit of a bind,” Harry said carelessly. “I’d talk to Flitwick or Black, if I were you.”

“But... but you’re Harry Potter!” Parvati cried. “If you wrote us a letter then it would definitely be granted! Please, Harry? Please?”

Padma must have sensed Harry’s answer, because she quickly opened her mouth before he could say anything. “I’m not in your potions class, but I am your others,” she said. “I’ll write your essays for the rest of the year.”

“Done. D’you have a letter I can just sign or do I have to write it?” Harry asked eagerly.

Padma beamed and pulled a scroll from her bag. “I have it here,” she said. She handed it to Harry, “You can read it over, I swear to you it’s just a standard letter saying we’re model students; responsible, sensible, mature enough to handle an emancipation.”

“Vow it,” Harry murmured, his eyes flicking over the letter quickly. When Padma didn’t reply, Harry lifted his eyes and raised his brows. “I didn’t stutter,” he said softly, adding a bit of a threat to his tone now. “Vow that it’s just a standard letter and you want my signature for no other reason than to become legally emancipated.”

“You’re joking?” Parvati said. “You want an Unbreakable Vow for a letter of recommendation?”

“From two witches I don’t know in the middle of a fuckin war? You bet I do,” Harry told them. “C’mon, I don’t have all day.”

He did, actually. He had no afternoon classes, and none of his friends were available at the moment. Harry had nothing but time, but not to waste it arguing with a couple girls he barely knew who wanted a favor from him.

“We’ll do it.” Padma stuck her chin out and raised her wand, Parvati followed her lead after a moment of hesitation.

Harry waited until they made their vow to give them a bright smile. “Brill, give me a quill.”

By the time Harry finished signing the letter, that truthfully did seem pretty normal, both girls were smiling identical pretty smiles.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Parvati said. “I knew you couldn’t be as bad as everyone says.”

“I might be worse,” Harry said solemnly with a wink that made Parvati giggle and Padma sigh quietly. “Ta, ladies.” Harry dispelled his bubble and resumed his path to the library. He’d barely made it inside the doors, smiling politely to Madame Pince, when someone whispered his name and he turned around.

Padma quickly walked back up to Harry and gave him a nervous sort of smile. “I didn’t join your defense club last year because, truthfully, you scare me. But I didn’t join the Gryffindor club either.” She stuck her hand out to Harry again and looked him right in the eye, “If I had another chance, I would join your club and your side. Hermione was right, you’re a smart guy.”

Harry hid his surprise at her declaration behind a bored mask and accepted her handshake this time. “Ta,” he said. He dropped it quickly and gave her a crooked smile, “Did Hermione really say I’m smart?”

“Hermione thinks quite highly of you,” Padma said. She smiled widely, showing off a perfect set of even white teeth. “I can see why,” she winked.

Harry had a bemused expression as Padma abruptly ran off.

It wasn’t that weird that someone would ask Harry to use his fame for their benefit, it was just weird that Hermione apparently spoke highly of him in the Ravenclaw Tower.

It was nice, but definitely weird.

Harry sat himself at the library table and pulled out Slughorn’s essay before checking his watch. If he made himself hurry up and write it in the next forty-five minutes, then Ron, Draco, and Neville would be out of Herbology and Harry could probably talk them in to going up to the Room of Secrets for target practice before dinner. Harry dipped his quill in the inkpot with confidence. He’d once lasted nearly forty-five minutes under water, in a lake, while he thought Luna was going to die. He could write an essay for that long.

No problem.



Harry lasted less than thirty minutes before he decided that he’d accept whatever grade Slughorn gave him for the essay and packed his bag back up.

Writing essays was a unique sort of torture.

Harry walked towards the main doors, planning on intercepting his friends as soon as they were released, and smiled a bit to himself. He idly wondered if he could find someone in his potions class who needed a favor that he could trade for.



“Hey, Mione?”

Hermione didn’t even lift her eyes from her book as everyone ate their dinner and chatted amongst themselves. “Yes, Harry?”

“Mione, did you tell the Ravenclaw girls that I’m a smart guy?”

Hermione’s cheeks turned pink, but she did an admirable job of keeping her eyes on her book and her tone nonchalant. “Maybe.”

“She did,” Luna confirmed with a teasing grin. “Michael Corner was rather put out one day that Professor Black let you help him teach everyone a non-verbal counter-jinx and he was being quite loud about it, so Hermione,” Luna gave her a frank look of admiration, “yelled at him, in front of the whole house! She said you were one of the smartest wizards she’d ever met and Michael was just jealous because you got all O’s on your OWLS.”

“Even though you didn’t,” Theo muttered, still skeptical of Harry’s self-reported grades.

Harry ignored him in favor of teasing Hermione. Honestly, as much time as she spent around Harry, he didn’t think she really liked him much, let alone thought he was one of the smartest wizards she’d ever met. Powerful? Sure. Strong? Definitely.

Smart? It was an actual compliment and not just a fact, which made Harry feel rather fond of her in the moment.

“I think you’re smart too,” Harry told her genuinely. “Padma Patil said you think highly of me.”

“Padma is a terrible gossip and a filthy liar,” Hermione muttered, her blush darkening. “You shouldn’t trust her. She’s a snake in disguise.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Theo smirked, “Hermione loves you Harry, she thinks you’re brilliant and amazing. I’d be jealous, really, except she also thinks you’re a slacker with no ambition.”

Hermione slapped her book shut and scowled at Theo. “You’re also a snake in disguise,” she hissed. Harry didn’t think she sounded mad, just embarrassed for some reason.

“Awe, babe, don’t leave,” Theo said as Hermione stuffed her book in her bag and got to her feet. “Give me five minutes to have pudding and we can go study in my dorm.”

“I’m going to study in my dorm tonight,” Hermione said with another blush. “You don’t seem to care about our runes project, but I do.”

Theo sighed and dragged a bowl of pudding towards him as Hermione stalked away. “I really don’t care about the project,” he told Harry as he dished Harry some pudding too. “Draco and I already have ours figured out.”

Harry made a noncommittal humming sound and tried to catch Trent’s eyes, hoping he’d save him from having to listen to Theo’s impending explanation of a project for a class that Harry had absolutely no knowledge in, but Trent was talking back and forth quickly with Daphne and didn’t see Harry’s pleading look.

“So, we were thinking- what if we could invent something that gave you the ability to channel potion properties and mix them with the property of the runes...”

Harry ate his pudding and ‘hmm’d’ and ‘wow’d’ at random intervals as Theo gave a long, drawn out, overly detailed description of his project. Mentally though, Harry was back on the seventh floor with Ron, Draco, and Neville and shooting at little flying targets the Room of Secrets provided them with.

Another plus in Neville’s ‘shaggability’ column, he was beginning to become a hell of a shot.



Harry and Susan had barely started their ‘five minute feeling’ session that night when Harry heard the dorm door slam open, then slam shut.

“What the fuck?” Harry asked, pulling his curtain open and glaring at Theo. “What’s your problem?”

“Hermione’s mad at me,” Theo scowled. He threw himself on his bed and crossed his arms over his chest as he glowered up at the ceiling. “She doesn’t want me to stay with her tonight.”

“Why?” Susan asked, peeking her head out of Harry’s bed curtains beside him. “What’d you do to her?”

“Apparently she’s mad about what I said at dinner,” Theo said with a whine lacing his words. “She wouldn’t even come let me in the Ravenclaw Tower.”

“Maybe she just fell asleep?” Draco suggested from his bed. “It is January, Theo, you know she’s probably in exam mode already.”

“That sounds like Hermione,” Ron chuckled. “I’m sure she’s just as disgustingly in love with you as always, mate,” he told Theo. “Who can understand witches? They’re barmy, the lot of them.”

Theo and Susan both threw pillows at Ron, knocking him backwards.

“Jokes on you, I’m keeping them,” Ron said pompously, cuddling the pillows tightly with a grin.

Harry snorted and laid back on his bed. It would be very in character for Hermione to already be stressing as much as the professors were over exams that were four months away.

Harry and Susan laid back on his bed, respelling the curtains shut, and finished their nightly ritual before falling asleep.



It wasn’t until Harry, Susan, Ron, Draco, Trent, and Theo were heading up to breakfast the next morning and Theo kept whining about Hermione being mad at him that Harry felt an inkling of unease about her absence from their dorm last night.

“If she’s not at breakfast, I’ll have Luna take me to her dorm and find her,” Harry promised Theo. “If she is at breakfast though, maybe give her some flowers, or a jumper?”

“Why a jumper?” Trent asked Harry as Theo gave him a faint smile in appreciation.

“Er...” Harry furrowed his brows and squinted as he tried to remember what he read in the courting book last year when he’d been looking for a birthday gift for Fred. “Clothes are supposed to be a domestic gift that signifies intimacy and comfort with one another,” Harry said, bungling the quote entirely but confident it was the general idea of it.

“What’s a fancy quill signify?”

Harry gave Trent an exasperated look. “Did you buy Sapphire a fancy quill?”

“No,” Trent laughed and shook his head. “Astoria gave me a fancy quill and asked if I’d go to Hogsmeade with her on Valentine’s Day.”

“I thought you were sweet on Sapphire?” Blaise asked him as their group entered the Great Hall.

Harry ignored Trent’s animated story about the love triangle he apparently found himself in as he glanced around for Hermione’s messy bun of bushy hair. Theo gave Harry a nervous look as they both took note of Hermione’s absence.

“Luna’s not here yet, either,” Susan said, catching on to the boys’ trains of thoughts quickly. “If Luna shows up without Mione, then we can panic.”

They didn’t even get a chance to be reassured by Susan’s words before Harry’s stomach dropped as Professor McGonagall came striding between the house tables straight towards them.

Theo whimpered very quietly, and Harry stretched his hand out to grab Theo’s as McGonagall approached them.

“Nott, Potter, with me,” she said curtly with soft eyes that Harry knew meant trouble. She didn’t even give them a chance to answer, she just went straight to the doors and held them open for them.

“Sue, get everyone,” Harry murmured. He pushed Susan carefully towards the Slytherin table before jogging quickly beside Theo to get to the doors where McGonagall waited. “What’s happened, ma’am?” he asked her with as much respect in his tone as he could muster in the moment.

“It’s Granger. She was taken to the Hospital Wing.”

Of course she was. Because the last time Hermione had been missing, she’d been petrified.

Harry was going to end up putting a tracking spell on his friends, he was sure of it.



Harry and all the others crowded around Hermione’s bed, all of them quiet as they waited for her to wake up.

She looked like hell. Madame Pomfrey said she would be fine, she would wake up soon, and that she’d been attacked ‘in a similar manner to the others’.

Harry had assumed that meant someone fucking stabbed her, tortured her, and wiped her memory, but they had no way of knowing until Hermione woke up.

Attacking Hermione was the god damned opposite thing Harry would expect of someone to do that wanted to gain favor with him.

Professor McGonagall said Hermione had been found in the dungeons, in an empty classroom early that morning. McGonagall’s lips were as thin as Harry had ever seen them and her face had been completely colorless when she assured them that whoever did it would be expelled immediately. Harry felt both better and worse seeing the fire of fury in McGonagall’s eyes- it meant someone was going to go down for this, but it also meant that something about Hermione’s attack had been different.

McGonagall certainly didn’t look like that when she told Harry about Seamus Finnigan.

“She was in the dungeons all night, alone,” Theo moaned, his brown eyes wet and his face pale as he knelt beside Hermione’s bed. “I’m so stupid. I thought she was mad at me, and she was hurt.”

“Hey, it isn’t your fault,” Blaise swore, reaching out to touch Theo’s shoulder reassuringly. “You couldn’t have known, Theo.”

“I SHOULD HAVE!” Theo yelled. “She’s not some petty idiot- I should have fucking known something was wrong!”

Luna made a small sound and looked up at the ceiling. “Keep talking, Theo,” she said softly, her eyes going in and out of focus. “Hermione’ll wake up if you talk.”

“Love?” Theo grabbed Hermione’s hand and squeezed it tight while they all watched Hermione’s sleeping face closely. “Hermione, wake up please. Please. I’m so sorry. I love you. Please wake up.”

Harry bit his tongue as hard as he could as he watched Hermione’s eyelids flutter and her even breathing break rhythm briefly.

“Th-Theo...?” Hermione said, her lips opening to whisper before her eyes did to see. “Theo?”

“I’m here.” Theo squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing it there. “I’m here, love,” he murmured.

Hermione’s eyelids fluttered for another moment before she finally opened her eyes with a loud gasp. “Theo?”

Harry and the others watched silently as Hermione stared hard at Theo for a moment before suddenly Theo was in Hermione’s bed, holding her as they murmured softly to one another too quickly and quietly for any of them to make out their words.

“We should go, give them a moment,” Ron muttered, shifting around uneasily.

“Not yet,” Susan said. “Hermione,” she knelt beside the bed in Theo’s abandoned spot and reached out to grab Hermione’s hand that was clenched tightly on Theo’s robes. “Do you remember what happened?”

Harry didn’t expect an answer, he expected her to have been obliviated like Finnigan and Ginny had been, so he was caught off-guard by Hermione’s sniffled response.

“A bit,” she said. Theo shifted so that he was stretched out beside Hermione, as opposed to right on top of her, and Hermione gave him a quivering smile.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Neville asked Hermione quietly, his round face soft with sympathy as he looked at her.

It was a wild thought to have, but Harry was momentarily jealous that Neville was able to look so soft, so sympathetic, so caring, with just a single look.

If Harry tried that, he’d probably just look constipated.

“Wait, let me get McGonagall,” Draco said. “She’ll want to know.”

“Not yet,” Harry said softly. He didn’t want McGonagall to know yet. He needed to know first.

If McGonagall expelled whoever did it before Harry had a chance to kill them, then he’d have to wait until summer.

And he was fucking sick of having to wait to hurt the people who hurt his people.

“You don’t have to,” Theo told Hermione gently. “Let’s give you a minute, love.”

“I’m f-fine,” Hermione said, in a tone that didn’t sound fine at all. She sounded young, much younger than seventeen. And that only added to Harry’s overall feeling of unease with the changes in Hermione’s attacks as compared to Ginny and Finnigan’s.

Hermione sniffed and shifted to a sitting position. “I was in the library after dinner that night Harry and Theo were teasing me—”

Someone snorted quietly, and Theo quickly assured Hermione that it was only last night that she got attacked.

“Good,” Hermione sighed. “Well, I was in the library, getting a book real quick, and there was a little girl, a first year, I think, I don’t really remember, but she had a huge stack of books she had been trying to carry. So I offered to help her. She said she needed to take them to the dungeons, so I guess she was a Slytherin, but while we were going down the back staircase, someone stunned me in the back.”

”Fucking scumbag coward,” Harry hissed quietly, masking his words in Parsletongue. Not that it seemed to matter much, because Blaise looked over at him and nodded in what seemed to be agreement.

Probably just guessed that Harry had been swearing. He did do it frequently.

“Then what happened?” Susan asked Hermione softly, her voice the right mixture of sweet and curious.

Again, something Harry could never pull off himself, but sounded so natural from Susan.

“And then- then I woke up, in a classroom, petrified and- and he stabbed me.” Hermione twisted on the bed, looking at her right shoulder with teary eyes. “‘Scum’, he called me,” she sniffled. “He cursed me, and I thought I was going to pass out, but I didn’t. Then... then he- he cut my robe with the knife, then said I ‘wasn’t bad looking, for a Mudblood’.”

Harry and Theo hissed through their teeth simultaneously. And, for once, it had little to do with the phrase ‘mudblood’, on Harry’s end anyway.

“I tried to summon my wand, to use wandless magic, but it didn’t work,” Hermione said, her tears freely trickling down her cheeks now and she stared at her lap and avoided looking at them. “He... he said a bunch of stuff, nasty things, vulgar, and said he was going to kill me, so who cared what happened in the meantime? And- and I thought he was going to- because he cut my shirt down the middle... in the front, and,” Hermione took a deep breath, “and he opened my blouse and laughed at me. Said...” she glanced towards Theo quickly before moving her eyes back to her lap, “He said he ‘didn’t see what Nott was so excited about’. But someone else, a boy, I think, I couldn’t see him, yelled at him to just ‘kill me and get it over with’.”

Nobody said anything.

There weren’t words to explain the level of disgusting that it was.

Harry felt as if every drop of blood in his body was boiling. It was a mark of the magical control that Sirius hammered in his head over his week of detentions that nothing in the Hospital Wing broke, even though Harry was certain that he was cracking right down the middle.

They all waited for Hermione to collect herself a little and crowded more firmly around her bed.

“I thought I was going to die,” Hermione whispered. “But- instead- he- he touched me, he rubbed my shoulder, right where he’d cut it at, and told me...” Hermione’s tears seemed to drip on her lap more steadily. “He told me that he wasn’t going to kill me, because- because maybe he’d ‘have a use for me later’.”

Harry’s boiling blood suddenly froze to the point where he couldn’t breathe.

How many times had he heard that? When he lived on the streets? How often had his entire existence been diminished to how useful his body was for the pleasure of others?

“Mione...”

“Then what?” Harry asked sharply, interrupting Susan. Hermione didn’t need Susan’s soft tone right now, Hermione had to say what happened, spit it out quickly, like a poison, or it would ruin her forever.

Harry knew that first hand.

He also knew, knew in his fucking soul, that, as horrible and disgusting as this attack had been, Hermione had only narrowly avoided being killed.

And he’d be damned if he let it happen again.

‘A use for her later’? No. Harry would find a fucking use for whoever did this right fucking now.

“Then he cut me, here,” Hermione reached up and trailed her fingers over her neck where a faint pink scar was all that was left of the bloody wound it once had been. “And he petrified me, left me on the floor. I- I guess I blacked out then, I don’t remember anything between then and now.”

“Do you remember who it was?” Theo asked, his voice hoarse with what Harry suspected was thinly veiled rage.

Hermione nodded and finally lifted her head, her eyes seeking Harry’s out immediately.

“Goyle,” she told him, speaking directly to Harry as if she knew what her words would incite. “The boy who did it was Goyle.”