FIC: Teamwork 30, WIP, H/D
Title: Teamwork 30 -- Risks and Poses
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Canon Compliancy: Through Goblet of Fire
Snakes and Lions: Teamwork is the sequel to Snakes and Lions.
Thanks: Thanks to
sociofemme for beta work! This chapter is not Britpicked.
Previous chapters
30 -- Risks and Poses
"Is Hermione happier with you?"
Harry and Millicent were walking down to Hagrid's, so Harry could renew her glamour safely out of sight of the castle.
"Let's say we've had it out."
"She sat with you in Defense, though."
"How do you know that?"
"Draco told me Weasley was glaring at you, and he distracted him by sitting with Longbottom."
"Ha! Was that what that was about? Half the class was staring, and Neville had to look around and find me in the room before he stopped looking alarmed."
"A good distraction then." Millicent shrugged. "Anyway, Granger was okay with me. She did go on about witches' rights some, but only to make sure I knew I had other options, and liked this one best. I think we understand each other better now -- although maybe not, if she's angry at you."
"Oh, I think you're right," Harry agreed. "She's upset at some things I did to hide it, but I decided to confess and get them over with in context, so it's settling out."
Smiling, Millicent shook her head. "Gryffindors!"
"Exactly. Oh, Draco and I have decided it's time to bring her in on the Uncommon Room."
Millicent stopped walking. For a moment, she stood contemplating the hillside. "I suppose," she said slowly. "Two days ago, I would have said that was mad, but she has more perspective than I'd thought."
"Yeah. And for the room, she'll be better if we tell her."
"This week?"
"Nah. We need to warn the others, I think."
Throughout the day, Harry had been thinking about how to get a few minutes alone with Snape, before seeing him with Draco along. When Draco went up to ask Professor Hecksban a question after their Cursebreaking lesson, he dropped a brief note in Draco's school bag and slipped out.
As soon as Harry entered his office, Snape snapped out his wand. That would have been alarming as little as a year ago, Harry mused, as he watched the door swing shut and glow around the edges.
"Draco will probably be down in a minute."
"Oh?"
"He doesn't want me with you unsupervised. I had to tell him about the curse, because it was far
too effective, to the point where Hermione was adopting my comments on
Charms theory as fact, and it was obvious something was terribly wrong."
Snape's jaw twitched. Harry had the distinct impression that he had almost laughed.
"Could you not claim ignorance?"
"No. I wanted to lift it, and needed his help to be subtle about it."
"Ah. I see. And this visit is to inform me of your indiscretion?"
"Well, also--"
Two sharp raps sounded at the door.
"Your paramour, I expect," Snape said mockingly. He cast at the door again, and it swung open.
"Draco. What a pleasant surprise."
"Good afternoon, Severus. Harry--" a glare at Harry accompanied the name -- "invited me to join him here."
"And I was just about to ask about something," Harry said sharply, "but it's too private for that." He nodded at the open door, but Snape, rather than shutting it again, stood.
"Perhaps, then, you should join me in my rooms for dinner, rather than imposing upon my office hours. I do have some students who actually appreciate direction, you know."
"Fine with me," Draco said carelessly. "We'll be there at six."
Snape settled into his chair again, steepling his hands in front of his chin. "Noted," he said tartly. "I suggest you make good use of your study hours."
"Most people consider this free time, you know," Draco shot back. "Come along, Harry."
"'Come along?'" Harry fumed in the corridor. "I'm not sure I even want you there! It's bad enough that he treats me like an infant; there's no reason for you to!"
"When it comes to his machinations--" Draco stopped. "I'm sorry. You're right. He does it to me as much as to you, you know, and sometimes I just turn around and unload it without thinking. What did I miss?"
"Oh, I told him about the spell working too well, and that I asked for your help, and that you'd be down. I wanted to get that much out privately, but I wasn't there for two minutes before you showed up."
"And your private matter?"
Harry glared. "Is too private for a corridor, obviously." He didn't add that they were nearly to Slytherin, which made the matter worse.
"And for me?"
"We've already discussed it."
"Ah." Mollified, Draco moved closer. "Well, then -- would you like to come inside?"
The Slytherin Common Room was surprisingly sedate. Most of the younger kids were near the middle of the room, working at the tables there in groups sorted by year. Fourth years and up were scattered throughout the room. By the fire, Pansy was chatting with the Greengrass girls at one side of the horseshoe arrangement of sofas. On the other side, one sofa in, Gilbert and Linnet were discussing something intently, with the hapless victim of Pansy's Babbling Draught looking on. Nott, to Harry's relief, was nowhere in sight.
"Harry!" Linnet exclaimed. "Visiting again?"
Everyone Harry could see looked up at that. Millicent appeared from around the corner, striding towards them.
"Yes, do tell," Gilbert urged. "Is there a reason for this appearance?"
"Eh." Harry shrugged. "Snape kicked us out of his office, that's all."
Draco arrayed himself on the middle sofa, near to Linnet, in a picturesque sprawl. "As we're dining with him," he remarked, "it hardly seems worth hiking up to the third floor and back."
Harry tried not to wince. If Draco felt he could brag about his spellfather's favor, he probably could. In fact, the babbling boy -- Julius? -- was shrinking down slightly, as was Daphne Greengrass.
"Ah," said Pansy, "but is that good or bad?"
"Let's just say it was an invitation that either of us could have refused."
"Mm."
Millicent had reached them. Harry settled on the arm of the sofa, one hand on Draco's shoulder, confident that she had his back. "I'm rather looking forward to it, actually. McGonagall tries to keep me from getting too much private time with him. We haven't had a good talk since summer."
Even from this angle, he could see Draco roll his eyes. Astoria leaned forward.
"You talked to Professor Snape over the summer?"
Pansy sniffed. "At the trial, I expect."
"Right. And after that, he visited and terrified my Muggle relatives. That was amusing." At the startled looks from Astoria and Pansy, Harry grinned. Showing the Slytherins that they didn't know him was surprisingly amusing. "Remus Lupin came by too. It was by far the best summer I've had at the Dursley's ever."
Someone squeaked. Harry thought it might have been Seymour, who had drifted over from somewhere.
"Did they know he was a werewolf?" he asked, eyes wide.
"They did after I told them."
A few people laughed nervously.
"He's a very nice werewolf, really," Harry added, suddenly realizing that Seymour would never have met Remus. He winked. "But there was no reason to tell them that."
Astoria looked dramatically askance at him. "And I thought you were good to Muggles."
"If they're good Muggles."
"And if not, you'll threaten them?"
"It wasn't a threat! It was a snippet of information. I'm not responsible if they draw the wrong conclusions!"
"Mm." Draco leaned into Harry's arm. "You're incorrigible. We would have taught you so much in Slytherin."
Harry stretched over to give him a brief kiss. It might be worth mentioning his Sorting, if he really wanted these people to look at him differently. "If you'd been nicer," he teased, "you might have had the chance."
One shoulder lifting, Draco glanced away. "I hadn't really learned 'nice' yet."
"Why be nice to a Gryffindor?" Pansy said acidly.
"Because they make good allies?" Gilbert suggested blandly.
"We were talking about before Sorting," Draco said. "But Gilbert is right."
"Even more," Blaise added, "why make enemies of them? A great lot of forceful, driven peers? Isn't that asking for trouble?"
"Still," Linnet protested, "it wouldn't have been in Slytherin."
"It might have been. It was the Sorting Hat's first choice for me."
"Rot!" Pansy exclaimed.
"And Gryffindor was Plan B?" Gilbert asked, ignoring her.
"Once I begged not to be sent here, yeah. It implied I'd do for Ravenclaw--"
"Ravenclaw!" Draco's scandalized exclamation overlaid at least one other. "You have no Ravenclaw traits whatsoever."
Harry shrugged. "Why would I? I went to Gryffindor, and that grew what they value. But you can't deny I'm madly curious, and the last year with you has definitely made me more studious, so I am capable of it. If my housemates had encouraged that when I was eleven, who knows?"
Millicent snorted. "Granger didn't?"
"I had Ron to counter her, and he was first. Then there was the team. I wasn't friends with Hermione until after Halloween."
"Ah." Gilbert nodded. "And at that age, it's all about what one should be, and other boys matter more to that, as I recall." He glanced past Harry, at Draco.
"And Slytherin?" Astoria prodded. Millicent chortled roughly.
"Don't ask, Tora. Slytherin mixes so oddly with Gryffindor that you don't even see it until later."
"Isn't that the point of Slytherin?" Harry countered. "Why be so obvious?"
He glared briefly at Millicent as he spoke. Her approach had been anything but subtle. On the other hand, the statement made him wonder if she had imagined some devious plot in his support.
"The point of Slytherin is success," Pansy countered.
"Which you're too busy turning your nose up to see!"
Draco pressed his fingertips warningly into Harry's leg.
"I'll tell you what I see, Potter," Pansy sneered. "That you are not long for this world,"
Harry came to his feet. "Done with that."
"Harry," Draco soothed, edging over, and Harry, with a glare at Pansy, thumped down into the cleared space.
"As for subtlety," Pansy persisted, "I have a question about your account of the events of our second year."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"
"Yes," Pansy corrected, her nose wrinkling. "It is widely said that the Weasley girl opened the Chamber of Secrets herself, under the influence of a Dark artifact." Her voice grew drier. "Some even connect that to Mr. Malfoy's dismissal from the board. Yet you said "the person who opened the Chamber" was there, and later referred to this person as 'he.'"
Harry considered this. She was right about Ginny's involvement being widely believed, and it was certainly known to the MLE, so he could probably accept that. He couldn't entirely remember what he had revealed at the party, but he knew he hadn't lied. "Look," he said, "there are reasons the details were kept quiet. It's true that Ginny was used to open the Chamber -- everyone seems to know that -- but it takes a Parselmouth to actually do it, and she isn't one."
The group went deathly quiet. After a moment Draco sighed and shook his head. "Darling...."
"What?"
"No matter. Go on with your story."
"All right. She'd been given a diary -- one that an upper-year student named Tom Riddle had many years ago left a piece of himself in. He used what she wrote in it to pull life out of her, and to control her."
"So it was like the Imperius curse imbedded in a book?" Gilbert asked. "I didn't think you could do that."
Harry shook his head. "More than the Imperius curse, because he made her speak Parseltongue, and that would be like making a Squib do magic. Really, she didn't open the door -- he did it with her body."
"True possession," Gilbert breathed, with rather more appreciation than Harry liked.
"Right. But by the time I got there, he'd taken enough of her life to start forming his old body -- the one he had at sixteen, when he wrote the diary."
"But you had a wand."
"Er... He took it, actually, while I was trying to wake Ginny. I didn't understand that he was an enemy."
"Harry!" Draco exclaimed. "You never told me that! I assumed he was powerless. How did you ever survive?"
"Oh, you know how Voldemort is. He couldn't just curse me; he wanted drama. What good is a basilisk if you don't use it?"
Harsh whispers underlaid nervous laughter.
"I thought this boy was a 'Tom Riddle,'" Pansy said acidly.
"That's what he was called then. Voldemort was an ana-- al-- whatever you call those things where you rearrange the letters."
"Anagram?"
"Right, that! He showed me his name like this." Harry wrote on the hearth in front of the Slytherin fireplace:
TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE
"Then he rearranged the letters -- I don't know how to do that -- to say 'I am Lord Voldemort'. Told me he wouldn't use the name of his Muggle father."
"How dare you!" Pansy's voice was shrill and clear over a rumble of other comments. The glowing words bothered Harry more. He had put Voldemort's true name on a place that he was trying to keep from him. Now that he saw it, it felt sickeningly like an invitation.
"Eh." Blaise shrugged. "It makes more sense the longer I think about it. The turd left his mother, you said?"
Nodding, Harry erased the glowing name with rough snaps of his wand. "Yeah. Who died. He didn't come to school knowing any of that, though, because he was Muggle-raised, like me."
Draco raised his eyebrows. "By evil relatives?"
Harry snorted. "No. In an orphanage. So he could have imagined he was a pureblood, and he probably did when he was sorted into Slytherin. By the time he was sixteen, though, he knew his father had been a Muggle, because he told me that in the Chamber of Secrets, and he knew -- or believed, anyway -- that he was a direct descendent of Salazar Slytherin, because he told me that then too. And at some point, he tracked down his father and killed him, because 'Voldemort' told me that when I was fourteen and bound to his father's gravestone."
"He might have been lying," Gilbert pointed out.
"If he was lying, why not make it all more what he wanted?" Harry objected. "Why tell me about the Muggle father at all?"
"Clearly, you've made this all up," Daphne Greengrass said, tossing her hair. "All things you were told in front of no other witnesses. If you're sly, there was a Tom Riddle of the background you claim, but he bears no relation to the Dark Lord."
Harry shrugged. "I'm not the only one who knows that connection," he said. "Dumbledore remembers him. He was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor when Riddle was a student."
With an almost ladylike sniff, Pansy lifted her small nose. "And the headmaster, of course, is entirely impartial when it comes to the Dark Lord."
"So," Gilbert said, doodling what looked like a crest with his wand, "do we have to worry about you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly how dangerous are powerful half-bloods with unhappy, magic-less childhoods? Have you killed anyone?"
Harry bit his lip.
"Bellatrix Lestrange," Draco volunteered, but Gilbert waved the answer off.
"That hardly counts. It had to be done."
Harry felt his hand clench in the soft pile of the sofa arm, and forced it to relax. For a moment, he brushed the fabric under his fingers. "I let the Dursleys live," he said. "I even left their house before the time I thought the wards would fail, so Death Eaters wouldn't kill them."
Draco slid an arm around him supportively, but kept his voice light.
"Harry's not always trustworthy, but he takes no pleasure in harming others. I don't think we're in any danger of him becoming particularly vicious, barring long-term exposure to Dark curses."
Harry didn't think anyone else took notice of the little glance Draco gave him at the end, but it made his gut twist. Draco did seem to be afraid of that, as he had feared from Hermione's account. Considering his father, Harry couldn't blame him, but he didn't think it was warranted.
Blaise snorted. "Hasn't he been through a lot of that already? There's that mark on his forehead to start with. In my opinion, if he's not a sociopath yet, he won't become one."
Hugh came half out of his seat, but then -- slowly -- sat back down. Pansy was glaring at Blaise. Harry thought no one quite wanted to call Blaise out on the implied characterization of Voldemort, because that would make it explicit.
"I still think you're making it all up," Daphne said, but lightly. "It's quite a good story, though."
With a little sniff, Gilbert stood. "And with that," he said, "I find it time to take my leave. I told Gloria that I'd help her with Transfiguration." He looked down at Draco, and then at Harry. "Have the two of you rested for long enough to tackle the stairs?"
"Rested?" Harry asked incredulously. "Do you know how far up Gryffindor is? And my room is on the top floor of the tower." As Gilbert smirked back, he realized that he may have been giving them an excuse to change their minds about staying. He had probably done as much as he could here, and the longer he stayed, the more likely that Nott would show up. He looked at Draco, who was surveying his housemates in a bored manner.
"I had thought to stay, but perhaps it would not be sufficiently entertaining for two hours."
"You should come," Gilbert urged. "You must realize that your absences are noted. Your own housemates may understand, but the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs fear losing your patronage."
"Well." Slowly, Draco came to his feet. "We shall oblige them, then."
Harry couldn't believe Gilbert meant it. This was a further attempt to extract them gracefully. The strange thought lingered, though, as they climbed the stairs, Gilbert and Draco chatting lightly with practiced nonchalance. Could other students -- even younger ones -- really consider him a patron?
"We'll be having whatever they're serving in the Great Hall," Professor Snape said briskly as he ushered them into his sitting room. "I haven't had time to cook, of course, except for pudding."
"You cook?"
Snape sniffed at Harry's astonishment. "Why shouldn't I? It's similar to brewing potions, except with fewer Flobberworms."
"Flobberworms?"
"Well, they are an excellent thickener, and not at all toxic, if properly kept."
Perhaps to cover Harry's shudder, Draco stepped in. "I had beef stew at the Three Broomsticks, last week," he told Snape, as he settled into an armchair, neatly crossing his legs above the knee. "But it wasn't nearly as good as yours."
Snape accepted the compliment with a nod. "Incidentally, the next time you go to Hogsmeade on the headmaster's wink, I would appreciate word before you leave the grounds."
"She's my cousin. Even were she not, I am an adult."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "I did not say your decision was incorrect, nor indicate that I might attempt to override it. I said that I would appreciate word."
"To do what?"
"Open my Floo, at the least. Perhaps to linger nearby, in case of trouble."
Draco looked down. Harry saw his jaw clench and loosen.
"That would not have been unwelcome," he allowed.
"Not at all," Harry contributed. "She's brilliant, but I'm not sure how she is as a fighter."
"Good, I hope, to be assigned as a bodyguard," Draco said dryly.
"Adequate for most matters," Snape said. "I am better."
"You know her?" Harry asked.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "I have seen Auror Tonks in action. Let us leave it at that."
"Ah." Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Um--"
He was rescued from potentially impolitic speculations by the arrival of dinner. Two House Elves popped into the room, a table between them. As soon as its feet touched the ground, three place settings and a number of serving platters and bowls appeared on its surface. The elves vanished, returned with chairs, bowed to Professor Snape, and vanished again, all with bewildering speed.
The food may have been what others were eating in the Great Hall, but dinner felt very different. The first oddity was that there was a carafe of wine, from which Snape poured a glass for each of them. More unsettling was the decorum of it. Professor Snape's manners were sharply meticulous, and Draco's thoughtlessly gracious, and Harry knew he had to behave more politely than he was accustomed to. However, when he asked for a platter of beef that he could easily have reached, his forbearance was rewarded by an approving nod from Draco, and he settled down more comfortably.
"So, Mr. Potter," Snape said, when they had finished their soup, and he was slicing across a slab of pink beef, "I believe we have a conversation to resume."
"Right."
"Perhaps someone could fill me in as to what had been discussed?" Draco sounded almost bored, but his eyes glittered through pale lashes as he looked across the table at Harry.
"Of course," Snape answered, setting knife and fork down on the verge of his plate. "Harry informed me that the Credulity curse was overly effective on Miss Granger, and that he had told you of his use of it, so that he might request your assistance in countering the matter discreetly."
Harry saw the slight tightening at the edge of Draco's eye at the incomplete account. Perhaps Snape had missed it. He had been cutting his meat, again, this slice exactly parallel to the first.
"I do think you might have warned him," Draco said.
"Warned him?"
"That the spell is far more effective if the victim wants to trust."
Snape cast off the criticism with a one-shoulder shrug. "More effective is not usually a problem. I'd think he would enjoy her being agreeable."
"Look," Harry said, "We were studying Charms theory, and I said, 'Oh, I thought that worked this other way,' and she got all flustered about how she could possibly have got it wrong, and went searching through her notes trying to find where she'd messed up. I hadn't even claimed to be right."
Snape lowered a turnip-laden fork. "Ah. Yes, that could present problems."
"Among other things," Draco said sharply, "it was obvious to an uninformed observer that something was wrong with her. Had you hoped to get Harry in trouble?"
"Of course not! I've never heard of that level of efficacy."
"He is extremely powerful, and, in some, inspires devotion. If you truly do not wish him harm, I suggest fuller disclosure in the future."
Harry knew his face must be red, but he didn't have to worry about it. Draco and Snape were locked eye to eye, too caught up in haughty dignity to notice his lack of it.
"You may, yourself, think too much of him."
"So you believe this all weakness on her part?" Draco mocked. "Hermione Granger is insecure in her research conclusions?"
Barbed as that was, it relieved the tension. Snape snorted. "Hardly. However, I seldom hear Mr. Potter so lauded in the staff room."
"Well, that was what I wanted to ask about," Harry broke in. "Power. I only stand out in Defense against the Dark Arts, I think."
"And now Cursebreaking," Draco added.
"But in Dark Arts itself -- well, the few spells I've done -- everything just bursts out. Draco thought I might be drawing power from..." Harry hesitated, gesturing at his scar. Snape hated him saying Voldemort's name. He remembered how he had felt looking at the name he had drawn in the Slytherin Common Room, and wondered if hearing it was like that for Snape. "You know. Lord Riddle." To give him his Muggle name.
With a slight cough, Snape put down his fork. He sat even straighter. "Ah." He looked Harry up and down, his dark eyes glittering in the shifting light of the candles on the table. "Yes. That is how you survived the Dark Lord, initially, as I understand it. You can seize the power he sends out."
"You know that? Who told you?"
"Professor Dumbledore informed a select group of ... allies, after your parents' deaths. He felt it was critical information, and should not vanish should he die."
"Oh." Slowly, Harry absorbed that. He wondered if Snape was discounting Remus or didn't know he had been involved. "Well, that's okay. Simpler -- though I'd like to know who else knows."
"Beyond me? Professor McGonagall. Remus Lupin. Alastor Moody, which is what I thought to be the point behind him demonstrating the Unforgivables to half the student body." Snape stopped. "There are a few others that I do not believe you have met." His eyes narrowed. "I will consider whom I might reveal to you."
Harry's jaw tightened. "My business can be shared with a lot of strangers, but I can't know about them?"
"In this situation, I am afraid this is rather more than your business. It matters to the war, which concerns many people."
"But it's not fair! I didn't find out until last year, and you and Remus and Professor McGonagall knew all this time?"
"Not until last year?" Frowning, Snape cocked his head. "I would have expected you to be informed after the debacle of your fourth year."
"It certainly would have been helpful!"
"Yes. Quite." Snape cleared his throat. "We should discuss your allies and advantages at another time, I think. We may have been concentrating too much on your enemies. For now.... Yes, Draco's theory seems plausible."
"Dumbledore made it sound as if I could use Volde--" Harry cut off at a gesture from Snape. "Riddle's power only against him, and only if it was channeled at me first."
"He would like you to believe those limitations, would he not?" Snape returned smugly. "But no. An attack would give you the most power to work with, but there must be some remaining in that scar, to keep it immutable -- either that, or it is linked to him and constantly replenished, providing more still. And once you wrest power to yourself, you may use it as you wish. As his strength is in Dark Arts, however, it may flow far more readily into such spells, and to obtain enough power to destroy him, you might need a direct attack."
Draco leaned back, crossing his arms over his narrow chest. "Is that why you're teaching him Dark Arts?"
With a sharp nod, Snape reached for his wine. "Precisely. If his best chance requires the manipulation of Dark energies, surely it is prudent that he acquire some experience beforehand."
"I see your point, but I don't think he needs any further experience."
"No? I scarcely expect four or five spells to provide a solid foundation in the Dark Arts."
"Nonetheless, he is adept."
"Draco." Snape met Draco's eyes over the table. "You need not fear losing him. I am being cautious."
"Rot! You didn't even show him how to ground! I had to, after--"
Snape sat back. "After?" he asked mockingly.
"We were brewing. For the divination."
"And you had him handle Dark objects."
"Well, I can't! I have the Quiris!"
"It was bugbear claws," Harry volunteered. "And I am here, you know."
"No one is preventing you from joining the conversation."
"Right." That put Harry on the spot. He plowed on. "So, um, I think I shouldn't learn any more Dark Arts now. I thought maybe we could go back to that wandless magic idea?"
Snape's mouth curled in a sneer. "Far safer."
"And obviously useful," Harry shot back, not to be baited.
Mildly, Snape nodded. "Quite true. Perhaps we could meet bi-weekly? Short sessions might remain unnoticed."
"Sure. I'm free next Sunday afternoon."
"That works for me also."
"I'm coming along," Draco said.
"I do not recall inviting you."
"Really? I thought I was welcome in your rooms 'at any time.'"
"That does not include imposing upon another's meeting with me."
"I don't object," Harry said quickly, winning a scowl from Snape.
"Very well. Be it on your head, then."
"I'll need him to cover for me, anyway."
It took some time for the tense atmosphere in the room to fade, but by the time dinner was over, the three of them were talking comfortably. Snape mentioned a recent visit with Narcissa -- in the neutral territory of a London restaurant -- and said that she claimed to be making progress in securing the grounds, and Draco replied that he would like to go home for a few days of the Christmas holiday, but let Snape sidestep the issue. They had a second, smaller glass of wine apiece, finishing the carafe, and Harry left the two of them talking about Malfoy Manor, and arrived at Gryffindor feeling content with their plans.
Ron nabbed him just inside the portrait hole.
"We need to talk."
For a moment, Harry froze.
"About Hermione?"
"Right."
"All right." Sighing, Harry looked around. Hermione didn't seem to be present, and it wasn't quite too late to go out again. He turned around, and in tense silence, walked down to the Uncommon Room with Ron.
"Talk," Ron demanded, as soon as the door closed behind them. Harry glanced down the tunnel. From here, you couldn't see if anyone was in the main chamber, and voices tended to carry.
"Sofas," he countered, and led the way in.
The room was empty. Harry dropped into a comfortable chair, but Ron remained standing, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Sit down, will you?" Harry complained. He hadn't been expecting Hermione to tell Ron about the curse, as shaky as their relationship had been recently.
"Why?"
"Because you'll have a load of questions, I suppose."
With a snort, Ron lowered himself to balance on the wide arm of the sofa. He still loomed over Harry, but Harry settled obstinately deeper into his chair.
"Go on, then. What do you want to know?"
Suddenly deflating, Ron slid down onto the sofa and kicked sullenly at the table in front of it. "How serious it is, I suppose. Honestly, I thought I was overreacting until you brought me down here."
"Huh?" Harry blinked at him. "She didn't tell you--? Wait."
"For you to come up with a good story?" Ron asked sarcastically.
"I don't think we're having the same conversation. What did you want to talk to me about?"
"Uh-uh. You first."
Harry hesitated. If Ron really didn't know what was going on, he didn't really have to tell him he had cursed Hermione, did he? "Oh," he said finally, "I was messing about a bit with Dark Arts, and she found out, and we fought, and then we made up."
"Made up? Is that what you call following her around making eyes at her?"
"I have not been making eyes at her!"
"I don't think you saw a bloody thing Flitwick did in Charms."
"It was a bad fight, okay? I was worried. But I'm not interested in her! At all!"
"She's beautiful!" Ron counted angrily.
"Right, but that doesn't make me interested."
"So you're totally gay."
"I am not gay!"
"Really?" interrupted a third voice. Harry twisted to see Seamus and Parvati, and felt his face flood red. "I'll have to tell Draco," Seamus continued.
"I meant that I'm bi," Harry snapped.
"If you were bi, you'd be interested," Ron persisted.
"That's ridiculous! I'm not interested in every girl in the world. Or boy, for that matter."
"And the ones you'll say are beautiful?"
"Still no!" Harry's brow wrinkled as he stared at Ron. "Are you?"
"Yeah. Being--"
"Then drop it with her!"
"What?"
"If any pretty girl will do, stop messing up the three of us!"
"I'm not messing us up!"
"Um ... Should we go?"
Seamus and Parvati were still there, Seamus watching with a distinct smirk, and Parvati looking anxious.
"Whatever you want," Ron said, before Harry could answer, and he turned back to Harry. "So. You were fooling around with Dark Arts."
"Gah!" Harry shoved his hands back through his hair. "I brought you down here because that part was private, Ron!"
Seamus stepped forward. "Yet you didn't hear us come in."
"Yes," Parvati added sharply. "With over a dozen people allowed here, it's hardly 'private.'"
"Well, we were off on something else, by then."
"Parvati!"
"A dozen? Really?"
"I don't see any harm in telling him that," Parvati said crossly. "We know he's been invited, so he probably knows who we all are anyway." She ran a finger coyly under the strand of glass beads she was wearing around her neck, and Seamus laughed.
"I think it's spreading," Ron said. "Even Neville's wearing those."
Seamus sniggered. "Why so he is!"
"Dark blue, as I recall."
"But not yellow."
"Neville?" Ron's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"I don't see why everyone is so surprised," Parvati remarked, finally sitting down on an empty settee and crossing her legs neatly at the knee. "He's generally amiable."
"I'd think the Slytherins would eat him alive!"
"It's a friendly environment. We only eat pastries."
"And fruit. And crackers and cheese...."
"Does everyone in Gryffindor know about this?"
"Well, Hermione doesn't yet," Harry said. "I'm planning on inviting her next week, but I thought I should talk to people first."
"You are?" Seamus asked, joining Parvati.
"Yeah. Draco thinks it's time too."
"Well, good."
"I don't know...." Ron said doubtfully, but Seamus leaned forward to slap him on the knee.
"Right, you don't! Come this Friday and see what it's like."
"Are there any, um, requirements?" Ron asked, frowning at Harry's beads.
"Two minor secrecy pacts," Harry said. "That's it. You don't even have to wear beads."
"Though he does if he plays," Parvati said.
"Well, of course!"
"Plays what?"
"Oh no!" Seamus scolded. "That's as much as we tell outsiders. Show up on Friday, or wonder until you do."
Worrying at the inside of his lip, Ron looked around the room -- at the furniture, and the shelves, and the tumbles of ivy -- and slowly nodded. "Maybe I will." Looking askance at Harry, he added, "Someone should make sure it's safe for Hermione."
This entry was originally posted at http://gatewaygirl.dreamwidth.org/98734.html. You may comment in either place.
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Canon Compliancy: Through Goblet of Fire
Snakes and Lions: Teamwork is the sequel to Snakes and Lions.
Thanks: Thanks to
sociofemme for beta work! This chapter is not Britpicked.
Previous chapters
30 -- Risks and Poses
"Is Hermione happier with you?"
Harry and Millicent were walking down to Hagrid's, so Harry could renew her glamour safely out of sight of the castle.
"Let's say we've had it out."
"She sat with you in Defense, though."
"How do you know that?"
"Draco told me Weasley was glaring at you, and he distracted him by sitting with Longbottom."
"Ha! Was that what that was about? Half the class was staring, and Neville had to look around and find me in the room before he stopped looking alarmed."
"A good distraction then." Millicent shrugged. "Anyway, Granger was okay with me. She did go on about witches' rights some, but only to make sure I knew I had other options, and liked this one best. I think we understand each other better now -- although maybe not, if she's angry at you."
"Oh, I think you're right," Harry agreed. "She's upset at some things I did to hide it, but I decided to confess and get them over with in context, so it's settling out."
Smiling, Millicent shook her head. "Gryffindors!"
"Exactly. Oh, Draco and I have decided it's time to bring her in on the Uncommon Room."
Millicent stopped walking. For a moment, she stood contemplating the hillside. "I suppose," she said slowly. "Two days ago, I would have said that was mad, but she has more perspective than I'd thought."
"Yeah. And for the room, she'll be better if we tell her."
"This week?"
"Nah. We need to warn the others, I think."
Throughout the day, Harry had been thinking about how to get a few minutes alone with Snape, before seeing him with Draco along. When Draco went up to ask Professor Hecksban a question after their Cursebreaking lesson, he dropped a brief note in Draco's school bag and slipped out.
As soon as Harry entered his office, Snape snapped out his wand. That would have been alarming as little as a year ago, Harry mused, as he watched the door swing shut and glow around the edges.
"Draco will probably be down in a minute."
"Oh?"
"He doesn't want me with you unsupervised. I had to tell him about the curse, because it was far
too effective, to the point where Hermione was adopting my comments on
Charms theory as fact, and it was obvious something was terribly wrong."
Snape's jaw twitched. Harry had the distinct impression that he had almost laughed.
"Could you not claim ignorance?"
"No. I wanted to lift it, and needed his help to be subtle about it."
"Ah. I see. And this visit is to inform me of your indiscretion?"
"Well, also--"
Two sharp raps sounded at the door.
"Your paramour, I expect," Snape said mockingly. He cast at the door again, and it swung open.
"Draco. What a pleasant surprise."
"Good afternoon, Severus. Harry--" a glare at Harry accompanied the name -- "invited me to join him here."
"And I was just about to ask about something," Harry said sharply, "but it's too private for that." He nodded at the open door, but Snape, rather than shutting it again, stood.
"Perhaps, then, you should join me in my rooms for dinner, rather than imposing upon my office hours. I do have some students who actually appreciate direction, you know."
"Fine with me," Draco said carelessly. "We'll be there at six."
Snape settled into his chair again, steepling his hands in front of his chin. "Noted," he said tartly. "I suggest you make good use of your study hours."
"Most people consider this free time, you know," Draco shot back. "Come along, Harry."
"'Come along?'" Harry fumed in the corridor. "I'm not sure I even want you there! It's bad enough that he treats me like an infant; there's no reason for you to!"
"When it comes to his machinations--" Draco stopped. "I'm sorry. You're right. He does it to me as much as to you, you know, and sometimes I just turn around and unload it without thinking. What did I miss?"
"Oh, I told him about the spell working too well, and that I asked for your help, and that you'd be down. I wanted to get that much out privately, but I wasn't there for two minutes before you showed up."
"And your private matter?"
Harry glared. "Is too private for a corridor, obviously." He didn't add that they were nearly to Slytherin, which made the matter worse.
"And for me?"
"We've already discussed it."
"Ah." Mollified, Draco moved closer. "Well, then -- would you like to come inside?"
The Slytherin Common Room was surprisingly sedate. Most of the younger kids were near the middle of the room, working at the tables there in groups sorted by year. Fourth years and up were scattered throughout the room. By the fire, Pansy was chatting with the Greengrass girls at one side of the horseshoe arrangement of sofas. On the other side, one sofa in, Gilbert and Linnet were discussing something intently, with the hapless victim of Pansy's Babbling Draught looking on. Nott, to Harry's relief, was nowhere in sight.
"Harry!" Linnet exclaimed. "Visiting again?"
Everyone Harry could see looked up at that. Millicent appeared from around the corner, striding towards them.
"Yes, do tell," Gilbert urged. "Is there a reason for this appearance?"
"Eh." Harry shrugged. "Snape kicked us out of his office, that's all."
Draco arrayed himself on the middle sofa, near to Linnet, in a picturesque sprawl. "As we're dining with him," he remarked, "it hardly seems worth hiking up to the third floor and back."
Harry tried not to wince. If Draco felt he could brag about his spellfather's favor, he probably could. In fact, the babbling boy -- Julius? -- was shrinking down slightly, as was Daphne Greengrass.
"Ah," said Pansy, "but is that good or bad?"
"Let's just say it was an invitation that either of us could have refused."
"Mm."
Millicent had reached them. Harry settled on the arm of the sofa, one hand on Draco's shoulder, confident that she had his back. "I'm rather looking forward to it, actually. McGonagall tries to keep me from getting too much private time with him. We haven't had a good talk since summer."
Even from this angle, he could see Draco roll his eyes. Astoria leaned forward.
"You talked to Professor Snape over the summer?"
Pansy sniffed. "At the trial, I expect."
"Right. And after that, he visited and terrified my Muggle relatives. That was amusing." At the startled looks from Astoria and Pansy, Harry grinned. Showing the Slytherins that they didn't know him was surprisingly amusing. "Remus Lupin came by too. It was by far the best summer I've had at the Dursley's ever."
Someone squeaked. Harry thought it might have been Seymour, who had drifted over from somewhere.
"Did they know he was a werewolf?" he asked, eyes wide.
"They did after I told them."
A few people laughed nervously.
"He's a very nice werewolf, really," Harry added, suddenly realizing that Seymour would never have met Remus. He winked. "But there was no reason to tell them that."
Astoria looked dramatically askance at him. "And I thought you were good to Muggles."
"If they're good Muggles."
"And if not, you'll threaten them?"
"It wasn't a threat! It was a snippet of information. I'm not responsible if they draw the wrong conclusions!"
"Mm." Draco leaned into Harry's arm. "You're incorrigible. We would have taught you so much in Slytherin."
Harry stretched over to give him a brief kiss. It might be worth mentioning his Sorting, if he really wanted these people to look at him differently. "If you'd been nicer," he teased, "you might have had the chance."
One shoulder lifting, Draco glanced away. "I hadn't really learned 'nice' yet."
"Why be nice to a Gryffindor?" Pansy said acidly.
"Because they make good allies?" Gilbert suggested blandly.
"We were talking about before Sorting," Draco said. "But Gilbert is right."
"Even more," Blaise added, "why make enemies of them? A great lot of forceful, driven peers? Isn't that asking for trouble?"
"Still," Linnet protested, "it wouldn't have been in Slytherin."
"It might have been. It was the Sorting Hat's first choice for me."
"Rot!" Pansy exclaimed.
"And Gryffindor was Plan B?" Gilbert asked, ignoring her.
"Once I begged not to be sent here, yeah. It implied I'd do for Ravenclaw--"
"Ravenclaw!" Draco's scandalized exclamation overlaid at least one other. "You have no Ravenclaw traits whatsoever."
Harry shrugged. "Why would I? I went to Gryffindor, and that grew what they value. But you can't deny I'm madly curious, and the last year with you has definitely made me more studious, so I am capable of it. If my housemates had encouraged that when I was eleven, who knows?"
Millicent snorted. "Granger didn't?"
"I had Ron to counter her, and he was first. Then there was the team. I wasn't friends with Hermione until after Halloween."
"Ah." Gilbert nodded. "And at that age, it's all about what one should be, and other boys matter more to that, as I recall." He glanced past Harry, at Draco.
"And Slytherin?" Astoria prodded. Millicent chortled roughly.
"Don't ask, Tora. Slytherin mixes so oddly with Gryffindor that you don't even see it until later."
"Isn't that the point of Slytherin?" Harry countered. "Why be so obvious?"
He glared briefly at Millicent as he spoke. Her approach had been anything but subtle. On the other hand, the statement made him wonder if she had imagined some devious plot in his support.
"The point of Slytherin is success," Pansy countered.
"Which you're too busy turning your nose up to see!"
Draco pressed his fingertips warningly into Harry's leg.
"I'll tell you what I see, Potter," Pansy sneered. "That you are not long for this world,"
Harry came to his feet. "Done with that."
"Harry," Draco soothed, edging over, and Harry, with a glare at Pansy, thumped down into the cleared space.
"As for subtlety," Pansy persisted, "I have a question about your account of the events of our second year."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"
"Yes," Pansy corrected, her nose wrinkling. "It is widely said that the Weasley girl opened the Chamber of Secrets herself, under the influence of a Dark artifact." Her voice grew drier. "Some even connect that to Mr. Malfoy's dismissal from the board. Yet you said "the person who opened the Chamber" was there, and later referred to this person as 'he.'"
Harry considered this. She was right about Ginny's involvement being widely believed, and it was certainly known to the MLE, so he could probably accept that. He couldn't entirely remember what he had revealed at the party, but he knew he hadn't lied. "Look," he said, "there are reasons the details were kept quiet. It's true that Ginny was used to open the Chamber -- everyone seems to know that -- but it takes a Parselmouth to actually do it, and she isn't one."
The group went deathly quiet. After a moment Draco sighed and shook his head. "Darling...."
"What?"
"No matter. Go on with your story."
"All right. She'd been given a diary -- one that an upper-year student named Tom Riddle had many years ago left a piece of himself in. He used what she wrote in it to pull life out of her, and to control her."
"So it was like the Imperius curse imbedded in a book?" Gilbert asked. "I didn't think you could do that."
Harry shook his head. "More than the Imperius curse, because he made her speak Parseltongue, and that would be like making a Squib do magic. Really, she didn't open the door -- he did it with her body."
"True possession," Gilbert breathed, with rather more appreciation than Harry liked.
"Right. But by the time I got there, he'd taken enough of her life to start forming his old body -- the one he had at sixteen, when he wrote the diary."
"But you had a wand."
"Er... He took it, actually, while I was trying to wake Ginny. I didn't understand that he was an enemy."
"Harry!" Draco exclaimed. "You never told me that! I assumed he was powerless. How did you ever survive?"
"Oh, you know how Voldemort is. He couldn't just curse me; he wanted drama. What good is a basilisk if you don't use it?"
Harsh whispers underlaid nervous laughter.
"I thought this boy was a 'Tom Riddle,'" Pansy said acidly.
"That's what he was called then. Voldemort was an ana-- al-- whatever you call those things where you rearrange the letters."
"Anagram?"
"Right, that! He showed me his name like this." Harry wrote on the hearth in front of the Slytherin fireplace:
TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE
"Then he rearranged the letters -- I don't know how to do that -- to say 'I am Lord Voldemort'. Told me he wouldn't use the name of his Muggle father."
"How dare you!" Pansy's voice was shrill and clear over a rumble of other comments. The glowing words bothered Harry more. He had put Voldemort's true name on a place that he was trying to keep from him. Now that he saw it, it felt sickeningly like an invitation.
"Eh." Blaise shrugged. "It makes more sense the longer I think about it. The turd left his mother, you said?"
Nodding, Harry erased the glowing name with rough snaps of his wand. "Yeah. Who died. He didn't come to school knowing any of that, though, because he was Muggle-raised, like me."
Draco raised his eyebrows. "By evil relatives?"
Harry snorted. "No. In an orphanage. So he could have imagined he was a pureblood, and he probably did when he was sorted into Slytherin. By the time he was sixteen, though, he knew his father had been a Muggle, because he told me that in the Chamber of Secrets, and he knew -- or believed, anyway -- that he was a direct descendent of Salazar Slytherin, because he told me that then too. And at some point, he tracked down his father and killed him, because 'Voldemort' told me that when I was fourteen and bound to his father's gravestone."
"He might have been lying," Gilbert pointed out.
"If he was lying, why not make it all more what he wanted?" Harry objected. "Why tell me about the Muggle father at all?"
"Clearly, you've made this all up," Daphne Greengrass said, tossing her hair. "All things you were told in front of no other witnesses. If you're sly, there was a Tom Riddle of the background you claim, but he bears no relation to the Dark Lord."
Harry shrugged. "I'm not the only one who knows that connection," he said. "Dumbledore remembers him. He was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor when Riddle was a student."
With an almost ladylike sniff, Pansy lifted her small nose. "And the headmaster, of course, is entirely impartial when it comes to the Dark Lord."
"So," Gilbert said, doodling what looked like a crest with his wand, "do we have to worry about you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly how dangerous are powerful half-bloods with unhappy, magic-less childhoods? Have you killed anyone?"
Harry bit his lip.
"Bellatrix Lestrange," Draco volunteered, but Gilbert waved the answer off.
"That hardly counts. It had to be done."
Harry felt his hand clench in the soft pile of the sofa arm, and forced it to relax. For a moment, he brushed the fabric under his fingers. "I let the Dursleys live," he said. "I even left their house before the time I thought the wards would fail, so Death Eaters wouldn't kill them."
Draco slid an arm around him supportively, but kept his voice light.
"Harry's not always trustworthy, but he takes no pleasure in harming others. I don't think we're in any danger of him becoming particularly vicious, barring long-term exposure to Dark curses."
Harry didn't think anyone else took notice of the little glance Draco gave him at the end, but it made his gut twist. Draco did seem to be afraid of that, as he had feared from Hermione's account. Considering his father, Harry couldn't blame him, but he didn't think it was warranted.
Blaise snorted. "Hasn't he been through a lot of that already? There's that mark on his forehead to start with. In my opinion, if he's not a sociopath yet, he won't become one."
Hugh came half out of his seat, but then -- slowly -- sat back down. Pansy was glaring at Blaise. Harry thought no one quite wanted to call Blaise out on the implied characterization of Voldemort, because that would make it explicit.
"I still think you're making it all up," Daphne said, but lightly. "It's quite a good story, though."
With a little sniff, Gilbert stood. "And with that," he said, "I find it time to take my leave. I told Gloria that I'd help her with Transfiguration." He looked down at Draco, and then at Harry. "Have the two of you rested for long enough to tackle the stairs?"
"Rested?" Harry asked incredulously. "Do you know how far up Gryffindor is? And my room is on the top floor of the tower." As Gilbert smirked back, he realized that he may have been giving them an excuse to change their minds about staying. He had probably done as much as he could here, and the longer he stayed, the more likely that Nott would show up. He looked at Draco, who was surveying his housemates in a bored manner.
"I had thought to stay, but perhaps it would not be sufficiently entertaining for two hours."
"You should come," Gilbert urged. "You must realize that your absences are noted. Your own housemates may understand, but the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs fear losing your patronage."
"Well." Slowly, Draco came to his feet. "We shall oblige them, then."
Harry couldn't believe Gilbert meant it. This was a further attempt to extract them gracefully. The strange thought lingered, though, as they climbed the stairs, Gilbert and Draco chatting lightly with practiced nonchalance. Could other students -- even younger ones -- really consider him a patron?
"We'll be having whatever they're serving in the Great Hall," Professor Snape said briskly as he ushered them into his sitting room. "I haven't had time to cook, of course, except for pudding."
"You cook?"
Snape sniffed at Harry's astonishment. "Why shouldn't I? It's similar to brewing potions, except with fewer Flobberworms."
"Flobberworms?"
"Well, they are an excellent thickener, and not at all toxic, if properly kept."
Perhaps to cover Harry's shudder, Draco stepped in. "I had beef stew at the Three Broomsticks, last week," he told Snape, as he settled into an armchair, neatly crossing his legs above the knee. "But it wasn't nearly as good as yours."
Snape accepted the compliment with a nod. "Incidentally, the next time you go to Hogsmeade on the headmaster's wink, I would appreciate word before you leave the grounds."
"She's my cousin. Even were she not, I am an adult."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "I did not say your decision was incorrect, nor indicate that I might attempt to override it. I said that I would appreciate word."
"To do what?"
"Open my Floo, at the least. Perhaps to linger nearby, in case of trouble."
Draco looked down. Harry saw his jaw clench and loosen.
"That would not have been unwelcome," he allowed.
"Not at all," Harry contributed. "She's brilliant, but I'm not sure how she is as a fighter."
"Good, I hope, to be assigned as a bodyguard," Draco said dryly.
"Adequate for most matters," Snape said. "I am better."
"You know her?" Harry asked.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "I have seen Auror Tonks in action. Let us leave it at that."
"Ah." Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Um--"
He was rescued from potentially impolitic speculations by the arrival of dinner. Two House Elves popped into the room, a table between them. As soon as its feet touched the ground, three place settings and a number of serving platters and bowls appeared on its surface. The elves vanished, returned with chairs, bowed to Professor Snape, and vanished again, all with bewildering speed.
The food may have been what others were eating in the Great Hall, but dinner felt very different. The first oddity was that there was a carafe of wine, from which Snape poured a glass for each of them. More unsettling was the decorum of it. Professor Snape's manners were sharply meticulous, and Draco's thoughtlessly gracious, and Harry knew he had to behave more politely than he was accustomed to. However, when he asked for a platter of beef that he could easily have reached, his forbearance was rewarded by an approving nod from Draco, and he settled down more comfortably.
"So, Mr. Potter," Snape said, when they had finished their soup, and he was slicing across a slab of pink beef, "I believe we have a conversation to resume."
"Right."
"Perhaps someone could fill me in as to what had been discussed?" Draco sounded almost bored, but his eyes glittered through pale lashes as he looked across the table at Harry.
"Of course," Snape answered, setting knife and fork down on the verge of his plate. "Harry informed me that the Credulity curse was overly effective on Miss Granger, and that he had told you of his use of it, so that he might request your assistance in countering the matter discreetly."
Harry saw the slight tightening at the edge of Draco's eye at the incomplete account. Perhaps Snape had missed it. He had been cutting his meat, again, this slice exactly parallel to the first.
"I do think you might have warned him," Draco said.
"Warned him?"
"That the spell is far more effective if the victim wants to trust."
Snape cast off the criticism with a one-shoulder shrug. "More effective is not usually a problem. I'd think he would enjoy her being agreeable."
"Look," Harry said, "We were studying Charms theory, and I said, 'Oh, I thought that worked this other way,' and she got all flustered about how she could possibly have got it wrong, and went searching through her notes trying to find where she'd messed up. I hadn't even claimed to be right."
Snape lowered a turnip-laden fork. "Ah. Yes, that could present problems."
"Among other things," Draco said sharply, "it was obvious to an uninformed observer that something was wrong with her. Had you hoped to get Harry in trouble?"
"Of course not! I've never heard of that level of efficacy."
"He is extremely powerful, and, in some, inspires devotion. If you truly do not wish him harm, I suggest fuller disclosure in the future."
Harry knew his face must be red, but he didn't have to worry about it. Draco and Snape were locked eye to eye, too caught up in haughty dignity to notice his lack of it.
"You may, yourself, think too much of him."
"So you believe this all weakness on her part?" Draco mocked. "Hermione Granger is insecure in her research conclusions?"
Barbed as that was, it relieved the tension. Snape snorted. "Hardly. However, I seldom hear Mr. Potter so lauded in the staff room."
"Well, that was what I wanted to ask about," Harry broke in. "Power. I only stand out in Defense against the Dark Arts, I think."
"And now Cursebreaking," Draco added.
"But in Dark Arts itself -- well, the few spells I've done -- everything just bursts out. Draco thought I might be drawing power from..." Harry hesitated, gesturing at his scar. Snape hated him saying Voldemort's name. He remembered how he had felt looking at the name he had drawn in the Slytherin Common Room, and wondered if hearing it was like that for Snape. "You know. Lord Riddle." To give him his Muggle name.
With a slight cough, Snape put down his fork. He sat even straighter. "Ah." He looked Harry up and down, his dark eyes glittering in the shifting light of the candles on the table. "Yes. That is how you survived the Dark Lord, initially, as I understand it. You can seize the power he sends out."
"You know that? Who told you?"
"Professor Dumbledore informed a select group of ... allies, after your parents' deaths. He felt it was critical information, and should not vanish should he die."
"Oh." Slowly, Harry absorbed that. He wondered if Snape was discounting Remus or didn't know he had been involved. "Well, that's okay. Simpler -- though I'd like to know who else knows."
"Beyond me? Professor McGonagall. Remus Lupin. Alastor Moody, which is what I thought to be the point behind him demonstrating the Unforgivables to half the student body." Snape stopped. "There are a few others that I do not believe you have met." His eyes narrowed. "I will consider whom I might reveal to you."
Harry's jaw tightened. "My business can be shared with a lot of strangers, but I can't know about them?"
"In this situation, I am afraid this is rather more than your business. It matters to the war, which concerns many people."
"But it's not fair! I didn't find out until last year, and you and Remus and Professor McGonagall knew all this time?"
"Not until last year?" Frowning, Snape cocked his head. "I would have expected you to be informed after the debacle of your fourth year."
"It certainly would have been helpful!"
"Yes. Quite." Snape cleared his throat. "We should discuss your allies and advantages at another time, I think. We may have been concentrating too much on your enemies. For now.... Yes, Draco's theory seems plausible."
"Dumbledore made it sound as if I could use Volde--" Harry cut off at a gesture from Snape. "Riddle's power only against him, and only if it was channeled at me first."
"He would like you to believe those limitations, would he not?" Snape returned smugly. "But no. An attack would give you the most power to work with, but there must be some remaining in that scar, to keep it immutable -- either that, or it is linked to him and constantly replenished, providing more still. And once you wrest power to yourself, you may use it as you wish. As his strength is in Dark Arts, however, it may flow far more readily into such spells, and to obtain enough power to destroy him, you might need a direct attack."
Draco leaned back, crossing his arms over his narrow chest. "Is that why you're teaching him Dark Arts?"
With a sharp nod, Snape reached for his wine. "Precisely. If his best chance requires the manipulation of Dark energies, surely it is prudent that he acquire some experience beforehand."
"I see your point, but I don't think he needs any further experience."
"No? I scarcely expect four or five spells to provide a solid foundation in the Dark Arts."
"Nonetheless, he is adept."
"Draco." Snape met Draco's eyes over the table. "You need not fear losing him. I am being cautious."
"Rot! You didn't even show him how to ground! I had to, after--"
Snape sat back. "After?" he asked mockingly.
"We were brewing. For the divination."
"And you had him handle Dark objects."
"Well, I can't! I have the Quiris!"
"It was bugbear claws," Harry volunteered. "And I am here, you know."
"No one is preventing you from joining the conversation."
"Right." That put Harry on the spot. He plowed on. "So, um, I think I shouldn't learn any more Dark Arts now. I thought maybe we could go back to that wandless magic idea?"
Snape's mouth curled in a sneer. "Far safer."
"And obviously useful," Harry shot back, not to be baited.
Mildly, Snape nodded. "Quite true. Perhaps we could meet bi-weekly? Short sessions might remain unnoticed."
"Sure. I'm free next Sunday afternoon."
"That works for me also."
"I'm coming along," Draco said.
"I do not recall inviting you."
"Really? I thought I was welcome in your rooms 'at any time.'"
"That does not include imposing upon another's meeting with me."
"I don't object," Harry said quickly, winning a scowl from Snape.
"Very well. Be it on your head, then."
"I'll need him to cover for me, anyway."
It took some time for the tense atmosphere in the room to fade, but by the time dinner was over, the three of them were talking comfortably. Snape mentioned a recent visit with Narcissa -- in the neutral territory of a London restaurant -- and said that she claimed to be making progress in securing the grounds, and Draco replied that he would like to go home for a few days of the Christmas holiday, but let Snape sidestep the issue. They had a second, smaller glass of wine apiece, finishing the carafe, and Harry left the two of them talking about Malfoy Manor, and arrived at Gryffindor feeling content with their plans.
Ron nabbed him just inside the portrait hole.
"We need to talk."
For a moment, Harry froze.
"About Hermione?"
"Right."
"All right." Sighing, Harry looked around. Hermione didn't seem to be present, and it wasn't quite too late to go out again. He turned around, and in tense silence, walked down to the Uncommon Room with Ron.
"Talk," Ron demanded, as soon as the door closed behind them. Harry glanced down the tunnel. From here, you couldn't see if anyone was in the main chamber, and voices tended to carry.
"Sofas," he countered, and led the way in.
The room was empty. Harry dropped into a comfortable chair, but Ron remained standing, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Sit down, will you?" Harry complained. He hadn't been expecting Hermione to tell Ron about the curse, as shaky as their relationship had been recently.
"Why?"
"Because you'll have a load of questions, I suppose."
With a snort, Ron lowered himself to balance on the wide arm of the sofa. He still loomed over Harry, but Harry settled obstinately deeper into his chair.
"Go on, then. What do you want to know?"
Suddenly deflating, Ron slid down onto the sofa and kicked sullenly at the table in front of it. "How serious it is, I suppose. Honestly, I thought I was overreacting until you brought me down here."
"Huh?" Harry blinked at him. "She didn't tell you--? Wait."
"For you to come up with a good story?" Ron asked sarcastically.
"I don't think we're having the same conversation. What did you want to talk to me about?"
"Uh-uh. You first."
Harry hesitated. If Ron really didn't know what was going on, he didn't really have to tell him he had cursed Hermione, did he? "Oh," he said finally, "I was messing about a bit with Dark Arts, and she found out, and we fought, and then we made up."
"Made up? Is that what you call following her around making eyes at her?"
"I have not been making eyes at her!"
"I don't think you saw a bloody thing Flitwick did in Charms."
"It was a bad fight, okay? I was worried. But I'm not interested in her! At all!"
"She's beautiful!" Ron counted angrily.
"Right, but that doesn't make me interested."
"So you're totally gay."
"I am not gay!"
"Really?" interrupted a third voice. Harry twisted to see Seamus and Parvati, and felt his face flood red. "I'll have to tell Draco," Seamus continued.
"I meant that I'm bi," Harry snapped.
"If you were bi, you'd be interested," Ron persisted.
"That's ridiculous! I'm not interested in every girl in the world. Or boy, for that matter."
"And the ones you'll say are beautiful?"
"Still no!" Harry's brow wrinkled as he stared at Ron. "Are you?"
"Yeah. Being--"
"Then drop it with her!"
"What?"
"If any pretty girl will do, stop messing up the three of us!"
"I'm not messing us up!"
"Um ... Should we go?"
Seamus and Parvati were still there, Seamus watching with a distinct smirk, and Parvati looking anxious.
"Whatever you want," Ron said, before Harry could answer, and he turned back to Harry. "So. You were fooling around with Dark Arts."
"Gah!" Harry shoved his hands back through his hair. "I brought you down here because that part was private, Ron!"
Seamus stepped forward. "Yet you didn't hear us come in."
"Yes," Parvati added sharply. "With over a dozen people allowed here, it's hardly 'private.'"
"Well, we were off on something else, by then."
"Parvati!"
"A dozen? Really?"
"I don't see any harm in telling him that," Parvati said crossly. "We know he's been invited, so he probably knows who we all are anyway." She ran a finger coyly under the strand of glass beads she was wearing around her neck, and Seamus laughed.
"I think it's spreading," Ron said. "Even Neville's wearing those."
Seamus sniggered. "Why so he is!"
"Dark blue, as I recall."
"But not yellow."
"Neville?" Ron's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"I don't see why everyone is so surprised," Parvati remarked, finally sitting down on an empty settee and crossing her legs neatly at the knee. "He's generally amiable."
"I'd think the Slytherins would eat him alive!"
"It's a friendly environment. We only eat pastries."
"And fruit. And crackers and cheese...."
"Does everyone in Gryffindor know about this?"
"Well, Hermione doesn't yet," Harry said. "I'm planning on inviting her next week, but I thought I should talk to people first."
"You are?" Seamus asked, joining Parvati.
"Yeah. Draco thinks it's time too."
"Well, good."
"I don't know...." Ron said doubtfully, but Seamus leaned forward to slap him on the knee.
"Right, you don't! Come this Friday and see what it's like."
"Are there any, um, requirements?" Ron asked, frowning at Harry's beads.
"Two minor secrecy pacts," Harry said. "That's it. You don't even have to wear beads."
"Though he does if he plays," Parvati said.
"Well, of course!"
"Plays what?"
"Oh no!" Seamus scolded. "That's as much as we tell outsiders. Show up on Friday, or wonder until you do."
Worrying at the inside of his lip, Ron looked around the room -- at the furniture, and the shelves, and the tumbles of ivy -- and slowly nodded. "Maybe I will." Looking askance at Harry, he added, "Someone should make sure it's safe for Hermione."
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