Chapter Text
If anything could be said about the events of last year, according to Harry, it was that they had given him perspective. The idea that he’d led his Godfather to his death and that his friends had very nearly joined him, that he was charged to kill Voldemort by a prophecy, and that the same Dark Lord had been in his head, dictating his emotions over the past year... It made everything else seem very small.
And so despite the best efforts of the Dursley’s, Harry was not miserable at the end of week long stay. Nor was he angry, or frustrated, or scared. Instead he just didn’t care.
To be fair to them, Harry didn’t care about a lot of things now.
This year, the Dursleys had finally wised up to the fact that most chores he was assigned wouldn’t get done before he was picked up, and so he’d been left to his own devices. Even Dudley wouldn’t go near him - he’d started on Harry right when vacation began, but had stopped when Harry didn’t react other than to look at him. It had probably helped that he’d taken off his new blindfold to clean, and he’d gotten the full effect of the now paler, slightly distorted look of his left eye. The yellow-green colour of it, mixed with a bit of elongation from the healing, was deemed ‘freaky and creepy’, and Dudley had proceeded to avoid him for the rest of the week.
Now it was approaching evening, and he was waiting in his room like a good boy for whoever they sent to pick him up. He’s not bothered to ask who, considering he was completely disinterested in the answer. It was nice that he’d not have to be here, but going back to the Order would be a constant reminder of his apparent destiny.
Not that he wasn’t thinking about it all the time already.
His chaperon for the evening arrived just after dinner. He was stacking dishes disinterestedly in the sink, watching them sink below the soapy water with splashes and swirls when the doorbell rang. Harry heard the sound of Petunia’s slippers slapping against her feet as she scurried to answer it, knowing full well he was perfectly content to let it buzz all night while staring with glazed eyes into nothing.
“He’s here to pick you up.”
Harry turned. Severus was standing in the frame of the kitchen doorway. Dressed in a pair of robes and dark trousers that made him look like a cleric. It would have been funny in another life. Harry just stared with his good eye and waited. Severus’ brow raised, he was probably surprised at Harry’s lack of greeting or his blank stare.
“Well, we best be going. Do you have your things?”
Harry nodded his head, moving from the kitchen and up the stairs in automatic motions. He pulled on his shoes and coat when he was in his room and gathered his things. He walked down the stairs, balancing his things and watched as Snape transported his trunk before letting Hedwig free and doing away with her cage. He looked to Harry, who blinked and stared up at him impassively, Snape nodded and opened the door. Harry followed him out.
“We will be meeting with an old Professor in order to bring him to Hogwarts, I have been instructed to bring you along.”
Harry made a non-committal noise and nodded his head but said nothing.
“We will be Apparating.”
Harry looked up at Severus when his arm was offered. He looked at the arm then laid his own over it after a pause. He really didn’t feel like being dragged around for one of Dumbledore’s ridiculous missions. He didn’t even feel like going to Grimmauld place. Of being around rooms that were reminders of Sirius. He huffed out a sigh. The world went inside out.
When the reappeared, Harry blandly looked around. Snape jerked his head in a sideways motion before walking off, robes flapping behind him. Harry trailed after him, eyes roving over the houses. The place they had arrived look well-to-do, if boringly middle class. After several houses Snape stopped short and reached into his robes and withdrew his wand. He looked back at Harry with sharp eyes. Harry reached to his side and pulled his wand from its holster, fingers tightly closing around it.
As Harry drew up beside Severus he saw that the house was broken into. The lights were out and the door had been blasted in. It looked like there had been an attack, or a raid. Harry stared, tilting his head slightly. He felt as if some deep part of him should have felt disturbed or scared. But he wasn’t.
Severus strode forward, Harry followed close behind.
The inside of the house was no better.
Cushions were strewn the length of the room, a grandfather clock had been knocked over and cracked, the chandelier was in a shattered heap on the floor, and there was a huge splash of something red and dripping on the wall. All in all, it was a grisly looking scene. Harry wondered vaguely if he should be feeling worried, but it was a distant idea so he let it go.
Next to him, Severus’ eyebrow slowly rose as he surveyed the room. “Hmm. Perhaps this can be a good learning experience for you, Harry. What does this wreckage suggest to you?”
The obvious answer was that he was taken or dead. But the fact that he was being asked this meant there was more here than met the eye. It seemed like an awful lot of bother to figure it out, but it’d be more to try and ignore Severus, and so he went back to scanning.
On second glance, he noticed that the bookshelves on the wall were surprisingly stable, considering the disarray of everything else. One was perhaps slightly knocked, but otherwise they were perfectly intact. And the splash on the wall was slightly off. It was running too wetly to be proper blood, and the color was just a tad too bright. There was the smell of blood hanging in the air, but it had an almost spice to it. Not human, probably.
“It’s faked.” He finally stated, eyeing Severus. The man smirked and gave a sharp nod, before taking a step forward and pushing at one particular overstuffed armchair with the flat of his foot. The chair gave a quiver, before it sighed and changed into a portly looking man with a mustache like a walrus.
Righting himself, the man frowned at Severus. “Really, my boy, using your foot like that? Most rude. I would have hoped to see more respect from an old pupil.”
From the way he blinked slowly, Harry thought Severus was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “I apologize, Professor. However, I did need to get your attention.”
The man sniffed, but looked slightly less indignant, and a bit more intrigued. “Yes, well, the boy catching on was plenty for that.” He eyed Harry, eyes raking over him for a second, before jumping to his forehead. “Oh!” The man’s eyebrows shot up, and then drew close as he eyed Harry with consideration.
“As I’m sure you’ve already realized, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Horace Slughorn, former Professor and Head of Slytherin House.” Severus introduced, just a touch of blandness to his voice.
Slughorn stuck out his hand, and Harry shook it politely, managing to return the beaming, mustached smile with a thin one of his own. If the former Professor noticed the lack of enthusiasm, it didn’t bother him. “Ah, splendid to meet you, Mr. Potter! Very clever deduction, to figure out my plan - I assume you do quite well in my old House.” Suddenly his hand stilled and his eyes narrowed. Removing his hand quickly but mostly politely from Harry, he tilted his head at Severus. “So this is how he planned to draw me in?”
Ah. So Harry was bait then. He also turned to Severus, whose eyes darted to him. Wondering if he should feel irritated or slighted, Harry just blinked. It was Dumbledore’s plan, so it wasn’t really surprising that he was the worm on a hook. And he hoped that it was a harmless task, considering that Severus had given him no warning otherwise. No matter what he should be feeling, Harry was just hollow.
“Yes.” Severus responded bluntly, eyes back on Slughorn. “I have little hope it will work, of course. But I have few chance to meet with collegues these days, and young Harry here has a talent and inclination towards Potions. I thought we might be able to have a drink and discuss the subject for a while, and then I might return to Dumbledore with your regrets.”
Nodding, Slughorn looked pleased. “A fine plan indeed, Severus. I’d be happy to oblige you, if you helped me to clean up.” The current professor nodded, and between them they made quick work of the mess. Slughorn sighed as he tried to transfer the blood from the wall into a bottle. “Oh, dear, and that was my last bottle, too. Dragon Blood is so expensive these days.”
Once everything was back in it’s place, Slughorn poor them each a glass of wine - Harry’s with a quick wink as though giving a 16 year old alcohol was some secret between them - and settled down. Rather than starting up the promised Potions conversation, Severus instead eyed his old professor over his glass. “I am impressed at the level of destruction you managed, given how little warning you must have had. Three minutes, perhaps?”
Puffing up a bit, Slughorn smiled. “Two, actually. Didn’t hear my first charm go off, since I was in the bath. Doing quite well for my age, if I do say so myself.”
“Indeed.” Severus replied, a hint of drawl to his voice. He took a delicate slip, not elaborating, despite how Slughorn’s eyes seemed a bit too intense on him. “These are dangerous times, after all.” He finally concluded.
Slughorn sniffed. “You are correct. I’ve been constantly on the move for well over a year now. No longer than a week or two in one place - it’s made it very difficult to keep up with my contacts, in fact. And the effort involved in setting up every house. All very tiresome. I can’t imagine how you could stand it in a place like Hogwarts - the clear target of You-Know-Who himself! It must be terribly nerve-wracking.”
Dark eyes darted to him again, this time with the same look as in his Potion lessons, and Harry blinked in understanding. Ah. So this was his purpose as bait. To convince Slughorn to return to Hogwarts. Again, it seemed like an awful lot of effort for something he had no interest in doing, but he imagined it wouldn’t be long before he was under Slughorn’s scrutiny anyway, if only for his scar.
“But, Mr. Slughorn,” His tone wouldn’t have fooled any of his friends, but it was innocent enough to have gotten out of trouble for passing notes, and would probably work on this man. “Hogwarts has protections that make it safer than Gringotts, doesn’t it? Not to mention Voldemort is supposed to be afraid of Dumbledore, so it makes sense to stay close to him.”
As expected, Slughorn was now eyeing him with extreme interest. However, his gaze was on the eye patch, instead if of his forehead. “Such a pity what happened to you, Mr. Potter. Especially to eyes of your shade - just like your mothers, of course. I try not to play favourites, but your mother was a rather extraordinary girl.”
Harry froze for a minute, before slowly lowering his glass. There was a flutter of panic in his stomach at the reminder he’d lost half of what he’d inherited from his mother. Did that damage the reason Severus cared for hi-
Focusing on his image of the Slytherin Common Room, Harry threw the emotions and the thought away from him, shoving them away until they were hidden somewhere even he couldn’t see. He was left back with the numb sensation, and he fell into it gratefully.
Managing a smile, Harry shrugged. “Indeed. The results of acting like a Gryffindor, I’m afraid. In fact, this happened when I left Hogwarts - had I stayed, I’d be just fine.” He ducked his eyes away in feigned embarrassment. “Sorry to interrupt like that, but Hogwarts is a place I love dearly. There’s something very nice about having a stable place to call home, where people can contact me easily, all that. And despite it’s reputation, I’ve never felt less than comfortable in the Slytherin Common Room.”
Now Slughorn was nodding slowly, considering, and behind him Harry say Severus shoot him the same look as when he got a difficult potion correct. “I see.” The former professor finally said, voice slow. Then he launched into a conversation with about the latest Potions journals, which Harry was able to maybe half-follow.
This carried on for maybe half an hour, before Severus stood up. “Well, that should be enough time to convince Dumbledore we gave it our best effort. Come along, Harry.” Joining him, Harry made towards the door, before there was the sound of a glass of wine being put down with more force than was necessary.
“Oh, fine. Tell Dumbledore I’ll be there in two weeks.”
Severus sent Slughorn a smile than was at least half smirk, and the portly man huffed at him. “I’d be happy to pass along your message. It will be nice seeing you back at Hogwarts.” Slughorn scowled a bit but didn’t take back his words. “See you in two weeks then.”
“Goodbye, Professor.” Harry waved, and thought under normal circumstances he’d enjoy the way Slughorn’s lips thinned at the words. Then they slipped out the door, leaving the man to his decision.
~*~
Once they were safely out of the area, they Apparated into London, into the same park Harry and the Malfoys had arrived in the previous year to make their way to Grimmauld Place. Harry brushed imaginary lint from his clothing and followed after Severus’ swirling, flapping robes. It didn’t take long until they reached the magically concealed headquarters for the Order and Harry watched as Severus swept out an arm and stepped in front of his professor, ascending the steps. He walked inside the house, which was cleaner, smelled homey, like cooking, and was cool and filled with noise.
He swept his eyes to his right and sidestepped the ugly troll leg inspired umbrella stand.
As he walked down the hallway Harry wondered if he would feel any different upon setting eyes on the Malfoys and the Weasleys. He rounded into the kitchen where they were all huddled, playing cards. He watched them. Observed them. They were hunched over, giggling, batting at one another. And he felt nothing. Not even a spark of something.
Molly turned from her station at the counter, making some sort of pies. If the bowl by her elbow was any indication they were mince pies. She smiled widely and swept around the counter with a bright, cheery chirp of “Harry, dear!”. Harry let himself be enfolded into her arms, lightly settled his arms round her sides. She stepped back and took his face in her hands, mushing it in her palms, pinching against his cheeks as she turned his head every which way, looking down her nose at him.
“Peaky, I think, but in good health. I’ll fix you a nice plate of supper.”
She bustled toward the refrigerator before Harry could open his mouth to stop her. Arms slid around his waist and a mouth pressed against his. Draco’s lips were warm and chapped and he tasted like cherries. Harry kissed him back out of automatic reflex, feeling slightly awkward and out of place. Like he should be feeling something he wasn’t.
“Missed you.” Draco finally said when he stepped back, a pale hand threading through Harry’s dark tresses. He peered at Harry’s mismatching eyes, touching lightly at his new, magically enhanced glasses with his fingers. “How’s your vision?”
“S’alight, I guess. Glasses are helping.”
Draco smiled and hauled him toward the island in the middle of the room, sitting him down next to his chair. Everyone was playing some sort of complex Wizarding card game. Harry watched with a strange feigned interest and nodded his head when Molly dropped off a plate in front of him. He wasn’t really hungry, but he ate anyway to keep up appearances, as he had with with Dursleys. When everyone around him was so lively it did well for him to appear just as well. The last thing he wanted was someone asking him how he was.
He watched everyone play with a hollow sort of interest for a few more hours until he quietly told everyone he was going to bed. It earned him a chorus of ‘good nights’, smiles, and a kiss on the forehead from Draco. Harry nodded at him again, watching the way his boyfriend’s head tilted and something flickered on his face. Neither of them said anything and Harry slipped away.
As he climbed the old, rickety stairs he moved past the landing leading toward the room he, Draco and Ron would shared and made his way up one further floor. He walked down the hall toward the room he knew was Sirius’. He pushed the slightly ajar door open with two fingers and watched as it creaked and swung, revealing the room it hid. Remus Lupin was sitting in an old, overstuffed chair across from another, reading quietly. His head lifted and he closed his book.
“Hello, Harry.”
“‘Lo.”
Harry stepped into the room. It was faded, well worn. Like a pair of loved pajamas, or favourite shoes. Pictures were stuck to the walls, smiling and waving. Posters of muggle movies and motorbikes were tacked on as well. A bookself was crammed in a corner, slightly too large, looking like it had been shoved in as a last minute edition to a very teenage room. Harry deduced it was Professor Lupin’s.
The chairs looked like the ones in the Gryffindor common room. Harry wondered if they were something Professor Lupin had plucked during his stay at Hogwarts. Something to make the Black house more homey. Harry looked at the one across from Lupin, it was vacant, the cushion worn and rutted from being sat in day after day. He felt the oddest urge to run his fingers over the arching seat-back.
“You must miss him.” Professor Lupin assumed, voice soft.
“Mmm.” Was all Harry answered, rooted to his spot on the old floorboards and ornate rug.
“He loved you very much. He left this house and all of it’s possessions to you.”
Harry blinked. “The Order can have it.”
Lupin looked startled. “I’m sure Dumbledore will be pleased.”
Harry’s smile was thin and forced. Instead of answering, he turned and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Walking down the stairs back to his usual floor, Harry entered his room. Ananta was already curled up, sleeping under the radiator, which was hissing lightly. Harry changed for bed, glad for the empty room. Climbing into bed, Harry turned off the lights and pulled off his glasses. Ignoring the disorienting feel and vertigo of his now mismatched vision, he shut his eyes and rolled onto his stomach.
After a few long moments Ananta slid under the covers and coiled between his legs, head resting on his knee. Harry heaved out a breath and curled a hand under his pillow before letting himself drift.
His sleep was devoid of dreams.
~*~
A few days later, there was a flurry of commotion as the numbers at the Order Headquarters was increased by one. Harry stood awkwardly at the top of the stairs as Severus lead in a nervous looking Blaise. His friend looked around, looking a little lost, before he spotted Harry and gave a nearly frantic wave and a slightly too wide smile.
Harry slowly made his way down the stairs, waving back in a way that felt strangely mechanical, and ended up being enfolded in a startlingly enthusiastic hug. “Harry!” Blaise chirped, and he noted distantly that there was something almost maniac to his name, but dismissed it.
From the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Draco watching with something like morbid fascination, he wondered why as he let Blaise disentangle himself as he chattered nervously about how nice it was to see everyone and how have your summers been? Finally he faded off, and Severus gave them a slightly curious look before slipping out, leaving the three young men alone.
“Not that it’s not lovely to see you,” Draco began, words clipped and slow, like he was choosing them carefully. “But what are you doing here?”
Turning his eyes away, Blaise’s shoulders slumped a bit, and he shrugged. “Mother and I had a row.” Even Harry couldn’t help but be surprised at that. Blaise’s mother tended to spoil him endlessly, and it was unheard of for them to exchange so much as a harsh word. Although, maybe it was just unknown to Harry - Blaise, like many Slytherins, tended to be the private sort, and it wasn’t terribly unlikely that he hadn’t told anyone about an argument with his mother, or maybe only told Pansy. But, judging by his expression, that wasn’t the case.
With a little tilt of his head, Harry blinked at Blaise, focusing on remaining detached, despite the almost fragile look his friend was wearing. After a second, the sensation in his stomach that felt like it free-fall faded away, and he was able to speak. “Over what?”
Flapping a hand in a wide gesture, Blaise shrugged. “Kind of everything. She, uh... after the thing at the Department of Mysteries, she didn’t think we could keep playing the neutral card. So she wanted to go to Italy - my Father’s family is still there, and they’d let us stay there until the war blows over. But I didn’t want to go.”
“Why not?” Harry asked bluntly, ignoring the way Draco flashed wide, startled grey eyes at him. It was a legitimate question, after all. “You didn’t want to go with us to the Ministry, right? So why is it a problem now?”
Blaise made a soft noise like Harry and kicked him in the stomach and looked away for a long moment. Then he slowly raised his head back up, eyes wide and darker, like they were smeared with moisture. “I...” He paused, voice just slightly raspy. Harry continued to stare. “Yeah, I said that. And then you went, and you guys came back and you were at St. Mungo’s and not in the Hospital Wing, and everyone was really quiet and subdued and for a second-” He swallowed hard. “I thought you were dead, Harry. And all I could think about is that I had stayed behind when maybe I could help, and so I’m not going to feel like that again. Not ever.”
Suddenly, Blaise’s back went straight, like a steel rod and been rammed down his spine. “I’m with you every single step from here on out. Because that’s what I was supposed to do, but didn’t. So long as you’ll have me, obviously.” He looked up at Harry like he was waiting to be shoved away, and once again his emotions stirred from the place Harry’d shoved him. And so he stuck out his hand, and Blaise took it firmly, shaking it once, and Harry could have sworn he felt a tingle of magic, but it was gone before he could be sure.
There was a moment of awkward silence, as the emotional charge of the scene faded away, leaving the three boys standing in the middle of the foyer next to an ugly umbrella case. “Right.” Draco cleared his throat, tilting his head up the stairs. “Let’s find you a room where you can put your things.” As he passed, he clapped Blaise on the back, expression neutral but eyes warm, and the other boy gave him a flash of a smile before following behind.
Feeling slightly empty and just a bit lost, but not willing to do anything about it, Harry trudged up the stairs behind them. Now that they had another open room, due to the Twins ‘graduating’ and moving out, Harry and Draco had been separated, with Harry continuing to share with Ron, while Draco got Fred and George’s old room (and constantly complained about the things they had left behind).
For the first time, Harry wondered if maybe what he was doing wasn’t the smartest thing. That maybe he could hurt people by being detached. That maybe pushing away his emotions like this really wasn’t healthy.
But then he remembered how his emotions had screwed him over the past year, how they’d betrayed and hurt him and others, how they had very nearly ruined everything. And he remembered how much he’d hurt when Sirius had fallen through that veil, or when he’d seen his friends injured and panicked and scared, or how he’d been so very scared looking into the masks of Death Eaters.
This was the best option. For everybody.
~*~
“So how’s his mood, then?” Blaise asked, dropping onto his bed across from Draco’s raking his eyes over the posters in the room. Most of them seemed to be covering Draco’s choices, but a large, obscenely orange Chudley Cannons poster was affixed over his newly acquired bed. Blaise’s lip curled at it in distaste.
“Hm? Oh, he’s...” Draco’s eyes darted toward the door, as if he was concerned Harry could be lurking outside of it. Draco looked back at Blaise. “He’s different. It’s like something sucked all the energy from him. Like he’s been hollowed out or something. I swear I’m being overly cautious, but at the same time I think I’m right.” Draco hung his head, defeat written on his features. “I think maybe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named living in his head broke him of something.”
“Wait, what?”
“You didn’t hear? The Dark Lord was performing Legelimency or something with Harry. It’s why Harry’s mood was off so much last year, You-Know-Who was in his head. Influencing his emotions some how. Harry wasn’t feeling like himself because he wasn’t.”
“That’s why Snape was so insistent on the Occlumency lessons.” Blaise hung his head and rubbed at his forehead and over the bridge of his nose. He felt like an arse, an absolute arse. He should have noticed. He should have known. Last year that hadn’t been Harry. They all assumed it was stress of O.W.Ls and Umbridge and the rumors of the return of the Death Eaters, but it had been worse. So much worse. “Is the connection still there?”
Draco gave a shrug, face a mask of emotions. “No idea. He seems better in a way, if hollow. I think it’s like something in him is waiting, sort of? I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to make it worse. I mean, he’s still reeling from Sirius’ death, but so is everyone, Mother is really upset, and so am I. I understand he was the only connection Harry had to his parents that was a relative, but he was also a Black, part of our family. My Aunt killed him.”
Heaving out a sigh, Blaise kicked back on the bed, looking up at the poster. Tension was rife, and he made an attempt to break it. “Who put that there, then?”
“The twins. Permanent sticking charm, too. Tried everything to get it down. They must’ve known I was going to get the room.”
“I thought you and Harry’d be sharing.”
“No such luck. Mrs. Weasley put her rather small foot down. Said it wasn’t allowed.”
Blaise made a choked noise that could have been a laugh if it hadn’t been so dry. “So, who all visits here then? Heard big noise about the Order, all rumor o’course.”
“Aurors pop in and out, some people I don’t really know the name of off hand. Mad Eye comes in, Severus, every now and then Dumbledore stops by. S’pretty boring, actually. We’re not allowed in on meetings, so we just sit around waiting for things to happen.”
“Ah.” Blaise sat back up in bed. “Must be especially dull sharing a house with a bunch of Gryffindors.”
Draco opened his mouth to reply before the sound of footsteps, several pairs, banging down the stairs stopped him. Curious, Draco stood from his bed and made his way to the door, poking his head out. Conversation from the first floor floated up through the stairwell, muffled but sounding important. Draco headed out into the hall, followed quickly by Blaise. Together they headed down to the main floor of the house to find Dumbledore talking to Snape along with Mad Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt. All of the men aside from Dumbledore looked grim and had frowns on their faces.
Dumbledore stopped, seemingly aware of their audience and looked over at Draco and Blaise. Severus’ sharp eyes followed him and the teacher straightened his back. Face moving from concern to neutrality quickly.
“What’s wrong?”
Draco turned, startled at the voice behind him. He let his eyes settle on Harry who was watching the concerned party with an impassive face. Draco turned his eyes back to the adults, who were shifting in place, clearly trying to think of an excuse for their sudden, impromptu meeting in the middle of a huddled, dusty hallway.
“Cornelius Fudge was deposed.” Dumbledore replied, voice light, almost airy. “Rufus Scrimegour took over as Minister.”
Harry blinked. “Why?”
Dumbledore opened his mouth before closing it and giving Harry thin smile. “There have been attacks infringing on Muggle territory, but you needn’t worry about it.”
It was clear from his face that Harry didn’t believe Dumbledore’s words. For a moment he looked as though he was going to protest. To break through the stoic mask glued in place. Instead, Harry simply nodded, his mismatched eyes dragging over Dumbledore’s form. He stopped, eyes locked on a blackened and gnarled hand. He tilted his head at it, watching it for a long moment. Dumbledore curled the fingers before tucking his hands into his sleeves in a fluid gesture.
“Why don’t you three run along?” Dumbledore coaxed, nodding his chin in the direction of the kitchen. “If I’m not mistaken Molly has made some lovely shortbread cookies.”
Harry turned on his heel, heading back for the stairs. He paused at the landing, looking backward before heading up the creaking steps without further pause. Draco frowned after him, moving away from Blaise and following, wondering if he should stop Harry. Shake him. Blaise looked at the adults, shifting in discomfort of being alone.
“I am glad you made it here safe, Mr. Zabini, now, off you go.”
Blaise cleared his throat, eyes darting down to where Dumbledore’s disfigured hand lay under the cloak. He wanted to protest and remaining standing in place, but Snape’s strong eyes were boring into his skull. Blaise finally gave a jerky nod and turned before returning to the stairs.
It was a long, pregnant pause before the chatter started again and Blaise could have sworn he heard Harry’s name pass Dumbledore’s lips as he slipped up the stairs.
~*~
After what could very well have been the most awkward snack ever (which mainly consisted of Blaise and Draco trying to draw Harry into a conversation, and him staring at the wall behind them, giving pleasant but short answers), Dumbledore entered the kitchen, hand still tucked in his sleeve. Severus followed behind, face blank other than a tightness around his lips.
“Mr. Potter.” Dumbledore greeted, after giving the other two boys nods. “I apologize with the rude dismissal earlier.” He paused, a practiced break for social niceties, so Harry could respond. The Slytherin just blinked at him, face blank, so Dumbledore gave a short, polite nod. “Now, I believe after last year’s unfortunate ending, you wished to be more informed, to help prevent a similar outcome in the future. Because of this, I would like to offer you extra lessons this year, beginning shortly after classes start up, as well as encouraging you to spend your usual time with Professor Snape working on a training regimen..”
Harry meet the Headmaster’s eyes with a bland stare. “No, thank you.”
Looking shocked, at least for him, Dumbledore stared down at him. “I beg you pardon?”
“I said ‘no, thank you.’” Harry repeated, using the precise same tone and inflections, as though he were a wind-up toy.
For a moment Dumbledore continued to stare, before he frowned and collected himself a bit. “Why ever not? These are dangerous times, dear boy. I would think you would want to be as prepared as possible, especially with the increasing Death Eater activity.”
At first Harry was quiet, as though he were hoping Dumbledore would get tired and just leave, before he sighed like he was exhausted. “Because it doesn’t matter.” His words were clipped and slow, and his eye slid away towards the wall. “Last year proved that I can’t even properly hold my own against Death Eaters, nor so much as protect my mind from him. He has decades of practice and learning on me, as well as an advantage in power.” Tilting his head like he was addressing the clock, Harry shrugged. “There is nothing anyone could teach me that could overcome that before he attacks again. So why should I bother to waste my time learning to fight him?”
“So you’re just going to give up?” That was Draco, who planted his hands on the table and stood, staring down at Harry, expression a mixture of frustration and dismay. Harry gave him a look of confusion, like he wasn’t sure what the fuss was about. “So you’re just going to stay still and let him put a wand to your head? Is that it?”
Slowly shaking his head, Harry frowned. “No. When he attacks again, I’ll certainly try to fight back. But it’s going to be useless no matter what I do, so why waste everyone’s time and energy.”
Draco made a noise of furious disbelief, and for a second it looked like he wanted to take his plate and throw it at Harry’s head. Worried, Blaise inched a little closer to Harry to try and defend him from the blonde’s temper. In this strange state, he was slightly afraid that Harry wouldn’t even bother to try and duck the blow.
But instead of attack, Draco gave an aborted little jerk before whirling around and storming out of the room. His angry footsteps could be heard all the way up the stairs, and Harry’s head turned to follow the noise. Blaise could have sworn he saw something like real hurt in the boy’s good eye, before he ducked his gaze back down to the table and the look was gone.
Dumbledore gazed back at Professor Snape, who gave him a neutral look, but the skin around his eyes was tight and anxious. Blaise could relate. What Draco had been saying a little while ago about Harry seeming hollow was far too apt a description for his tastes. Feeling sick, Blaise placed his hand gently over Harry’s arm, not sure if he was trying to comfort himself or his broken friend. The other boy’s expression gave a strange twitch, and his eye darted to look at him, but he didn’t otherwise react, and Blaise felt oddly slighted. But he shoved off the feelings - he’d been a berk last year about something Harry couldn’t help. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again.
After an awkward pause, the professors made their goodbyes and slipped out of the room. Professor Snape send a few worried looks back at Harry, and Blaise figured they’d probably be seeing him again soon so that he could check on the boy.
And so the two were left sitting in the unbearably quiet kitchen, the clock on the wall marking out the slow, painful march of time. Blaise stared at the table so he wouldn’t watch Harry, and the other boy continued to gaze off into the middle distances.
After exactly 43 ticks (he’d counted), Blaise looked up. “You want anything to drink?”
“No, thanks.” Harry replied, tone polite and distant.
Blaise sat there, feeling like a useless lump and wondering when it’d all gone to hell.
Just before dinner new house guests arrived. Ron’s eldest brother, Bill, swanned into the house, pulling himself from the floo grate with more dignity than even Narcissa Malfoy herself. He looked nothing like Harry expected. His long Weasely red hair was pulled back, bound in a leather strap, and he had a long dragon fang hanging from a chain in his ear. He looked very much like a punk rocker, in a loose dark shirt and tight trousers with dragon hide boots. His blue eyes were sharp and clear. And if Harry were to acknowledge it, he was very handsome.
Green flared up in the grate and the flames shot out wildly, licking at the air before dying down with a few sparks of green. Fleur Delaceour stepped out, brushing herself off and sweeping her long, silvery hair from over her shoulders in a long, shimmery cascade as she stepped out and patted herself clean. Harry’s hand lashed out and with a yank and a twist he pulled Blaise from the spot he had sprung up back down to the couch.
“Mum?” Bill called, looking around and nodding his head in greeting of the teenagers sprawled out on the couch. Rather Blaise was sprawled, and Harry was being held stiffly against Draco’s rapidly tensing body. “Mum!”
“Oh, Bill, so sorry, I didn’t hear the floo.” Molly came bustling in, her floo brush in hand. She swept him clean, hands touching at his low-care clothes with a soft cluck of her tongue and fingers combing into his hair. “It’s so long, so very long, perhaps you should think about a cut? I have the sheers with me, I’d gladly do it for you.” She touched at the earring, her eyes going to Bill’s face. “Oh honestly.”
“I got it in Egypt!”
“And you should have left it there!”
Hiding his laugh in a cough, Bill turned his head to look behind him, where Fleur was calmly sifting her fingers through her hair. “Mother, this is Fleur Delaceour, my fianceé.”
“Enchanté.” Fleur greeting with all the grace and poise in the world.
Mrs. Weasley eyed her hard. Stared down at the offered hand, then over at Bill. Her mouth parted briefly before she closed it and her lips twisted just slightly. Clearing her throat she looked back at Fleur. “And how did you two meet?”
“I got a job at zee Gringotts to help with my Eengleesh. Beel was most ‘elpful.”
“I see.” She looked sharply at her son. “May I speak with you in the other room?” She patted Bill’s chest and shot a look at Fleur, her smile thin. “Be right back, dear.” Dragging her son out of the room, Mrs. Weasley pulled him into the next room where “William, what on earth are you---” sounded through the door before muffled silence.
Fleur looked around the room, her face a mixture of polite nonchalance and horror. She ran her index finger over the mantle to the fireplace and examined it. Frowning deeply at the dust the action produced she wiped her hands clean and folded them in front of her. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other awkwardly and looked around the room before turning her eyes toward the three boys on the sofa. Blaise now had his nose buried in a book, no doubt trying to look anywhere but at her. Harry was slumped heavily against Draco, in fact Draco’s shoulder was digging rather painfully into the middle of his back. Draco had one arm loosely hooked around Harry’s middle, the other was touching at his hair. He caught Fleur’s hesitant look and returned it with as bright a smile as he could muster, knowing it probably looked very fake.
Before long the door to the opposite room swung open and Bill walked out, rubbing his arm and with a sheepish look on his face. Molly strode out as well, hands tucked into the pockets of her flour spotted apron. Fleur’s brow winged up and she opened her mouth but Bill shook his head, settling his hand on the small of her back before steering her from the room. Fleur took one last look behind herself before walking out of the room with a small amount of fuss.
“Dinner won’t be much longer, boys. Mince pies and potatoes. I’m afraid we ran a little low on stores due to the recent meetings. Tomorrow Tonks and I will fetch some fresh foods. If you have anything for the list it’s tacked on the wall in the kitchen.”
Blaise lowered his book when her footsteps retreated from the room. He waited a long moment before turning to the other two boys in the room. “That was rather odd.”
“Maybe she disapproves.” Draco replied, fingers stroking over Harry’s cheek. “Not everyone is lucky enough to just pick who their heart intends they follow.”
Blaise hummed in the back of his throat and turned his eyes toward Harry. “What do you think.”
Harry’s eyes didn’t waver from the spot where they had fixed themselves on the wall across from the couch. “I think you and Draco should leave the gossip to Pansy.”
“Are you ever going to relax?” Draco murmured, pressing his forehead to Harry’s shoulder.
Harry turned his head, craning his neck as best he could to look at Draco. “Quite hard to do when your shoulder is digging into my back that way. Is there any particular reason you have me splayed like this?”
“I wanted to hold you?” Draco breathed out, voice slightly hedged with questioning, brows drawing together. “You’re my boyfriend, that usually entails a fair bit of cuddling and snogging.”
“But I don’t want to. Sorry, but no thank you.”
Blaise leaned forward, ignoring the look of hurt and shock that crossed Draco’s face. “Harry, you alright? You need anything?”
Harry turned his head opposite, looking toward Blaise. He shook his head with a soft noise, blinking once from behind his new square frames. Blaise opened his mouth to say something but Harry was already pulling himself from the couch, drawing a weak grunt from Draco at the move.
“I think I’ll see if Mrs. Weasley needs help setting the table.”
Draco extended an arm to grab at Harry’s wrist but he was already leaving the room. With a heavy, broken sigh, Draco covered his face and rubbed at his cheeks. He wasn’t about to cry, but it wore hard on him that Harry was so blank. It made doubts start to rise in his mind. He rose up. “I think I’m going to get some air out back.”
“Want some company?”
Draco looked back at Blaise before shaking his head and walking out of the room with his chin held stubbornly high and shoulder thrown back in mock pride. Blaise pulled at a fraying thread on his trousers and officially wished Voldemort dead.
~*~
Diagon Ally was different now, Harry decided, eyes slowly tracing over the buildings. Compared to the cheery hustle and bustle of years passed, this place felt dark and paranoid. Well, good. At least they’d have a chance to survive.
He’d also discovered another advantage to this state. Harry wasn’t bothered by the stares anymore. Their gazes begged him to save them, or made it clear he terrified them, or just wanted him to burn, but it all just flowed off of him. It was nice, actually, to not take it to heart. Freeing.
They had already been to Flourish and Blotts and picked up their books. Harry’s was considerably lighter than normal. It only contained the texts required for his courses, with no additional books just to further his own interests. Draco had gaped openly at him when he noticed, but Harry thought it just made sense. He might be dead before he had the chance to read them, so why bother to spend the extra money on it?
Draco had been distinctly unimpressed with that line of logic, and had spent the rest of the visit collecting any book that Harry so much as glanced twice at. When he’d brought the pile to the counter, Mrs. Weasley had given him a scandalized look, but Draco had told her he wanted to buy as much as he could now, in case the Death Eaters gained control of their accounts, and that had cooled him down.
Even worse, Blaise continued to hover around him like a worried mother. He’d asked no less than four times if Harry wanted help carrying his things (he didn’t, and Draco had shot him a nasty glance for asking Harry, when the blonde had nearly three times as many books). Oddly, it was one of the more dangerous reactions to his state Harry had encountered. First of all, it was annoying, and he’d found himself having to push back the urge to snap a couple of times. Worse, it was actually kind of warming. After facing everyone’s slowly fraying temper last year, that sort of unconditional caring chipped away at him.
He’d have to find a way around that, and soon.
Their final stop was Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. There was a surprisingly sizable crowd inside, considering how somber the rest of the Ally had been, and the twins were in the center of it all, demonstrating products in a way familiar to anyone who had spent longer than an hour in Gryffindor tower. Once they spotted their family, they made their apologizes to the excited crowd and made their way over, teasing their siblings and getting fussed at by their mother.
All in all it was kind of awkward to stand around for, so Harry, Draco and Blaise started to wander a little further into the store. Many of the products were things they could recognize from the past few years at Hogwarts, but either the twins had been very busy over the past few months, or they had quite a few products they never revealed, because there was a surprisingly array of products.
Blaise and Draco proceeded to spend the next several minute describing exactly how they’d like to use a certain product on somehow, and the exact circumstances of the prank. They tried to get Harry involved several times, but after a few noncommittal answers, they seemed to this wasn’t going to work and gave up.
Just as Draco was winding down a story about exactly where in Nott’s body he’d like to stick a particularly nasty looking device, Blaise froze and turned his head towards the door. “I’ll give the arse one thing - he’s got fantastic timing.”
Following his gaze, Harry spotted Nott walking past the door. He probably appeared casual to the random passer-byes, but after five years of living with him, Harry knew when Nott was acting suspicious.
“We should follow him.” Blaise spoke up suddenly, dark eyes narrowed and dangerous. But there was also a spark of something Harry didn’t care to identify there. “Bet he’s up to something, and we could stop him right here.”
Shrugging, Harry shook his head. “Why bother?”
That got him a startled look. “Harry, you know how much he hates you. I bet you anything he’s doing something that could hurt you.” Draco looked like he didn’t know whether to be dryly amused at that jump in logic or convinced for Harry’s sake.
But Harry just turned away. “I don’t really care what Nott does.” It was true. So far as Harry was concerned, Nott might as well have died in the Chamber of Secrets all those years ago. He was an irritation, but without someone like Umbridge to back him up, Harry was fairly certain he wasn’t a threat.
Bliase made a noise of frustration and stared down at his shoes, and Harry looked back over. “Normally we’d be the one’s holding you back.” He murmured, and Harry blinked with understanding. Ah. He’d been appealing to his Gryffindor side, huh? Well, after the fiasco that was the Department of Mysteries, that part of him seemed to have buggered right off, and Harry was just fine with that.
He couldn’t think of anything to say to comfort Blaise, and Draco was now scowling out the open door like it was Nott’s fault Harry was like this, so he just shut up and ran his fingers idly over the cloth of his eyepatch, heart twinging just a bit.
But it was for the better. This way was safer for everyone. Harry just had to keep reminding himself of that.