"Wait where you are, with your eyes closed," Snape commanded. He reached the knob and slowly opened the portal. Harry stood there with his hands over his face. Remus Lupin stood next to him, face uncovered.

"Why are you dressing in your office?" Remus asked.

"Shut up, get inside, and close the door behind you," Severus added grimly. Remus watched Snape warily and nudged Harry gently towards the threshold.

"I wanted to apologize for interrupting the interview yesterday. Hope I didn’t make that woman change her mind about working here,"Potter mumbled behind his hands.

"Quite the opposite, I’m sure," Severus replied, smirking nastily. "Perhaps she will come to count your kiss among our fringe benefits."

"There’s no need for sarcasm," Lupin chided.

"There’s always a need for sarcasm," Severus replied.

"I was sure she was Tonks, and that she’d slap me if I did that. I never imagined it was really someone else, honestly, Professor."

"Let it go, Mr. Potter," Severus said as he rolled his eyes. Remus peered inside Snape’s lair.

"Where did all those boxes come from? It must have taken six owls to carry them," Lupin commented. "How are you two going to spend the day?" Lupin asked. "Would it be forward of me to ask to join you?"

"You’re very welcome to join us, of course. If it were up to me, we’d be elbow-deep in potion ingredients, the kind that wiggle. However, I have an errand that cannot be changed. These boxes relate to the errand."

"Oh. You’ve made other plans," Harry assumed, his voice soft with disappointment. No. With hurt. It was definitely hurt. The last thing Snape wanted was to inflict more pain on him. The boy had seen more than his fair share in his young life. Wait. Was he now actually feeling sorry for Harry Potter?! This was getting serious. He might have to see a specialist if this kept up.

"No," Severus murmured. "You’re coming with me, but only if you are on your best behavior. No scenes. No tantrums. No biting, scratching, kicking, or foul language. No kissing complete strangers."

"Oh!" This time, Harry’s voice betrayed his excitement, even if his face was masked in his fingers. Remus ushered Harry through the portal, making sure his face was still covered. He watched Snape warily again, his eyes ancient and sad at once. Severus wondered off-handedly how Lupin was dealing with the loss of Sirius Black, knowing better than most how close the men had been. Severus was pleased to see that Black’s friends had turned their grief into action, concerned immediately about Harry’s guardianship more than themselves. Who had been the first to suggest that Lupin step into the role of godfather to Harry? Had it been Dumbledore or McGonagall? Or had Lupin decided on his own that the boy needed a good role model very desperately?

Although Snape did bear a certain amount of anger and jealousy towards Lupin because of the events that happened the year Lupin was teaching at Hogwarts, all he could muster at the moment was pity. Pity for Lupin because of the loss of most of his close friends. Pity for Lupin at the guilt Remus must be feeling over having inherited so much wealth from Sirius Black. The remains of the Black fortunes had been divided, as per the instructions of Black’s will, between Lupin, Harry, and Tonks, under the proviso that they burned Grimmauld Place and its contents to the ground. Remus looked a decade older than the last time Snape had seen him, and that connected with a part of Severus he didn’t want to think about– his own mortality. If Lupin looked this old to Snape, how old must Snape look to his students and others?

"Tell me about your week so far," Severus commanded of Harry.

Remus planted the boy in a leather chair and turned to snoop in the opened boxes. Snape stepped behind a small screen and continued to pull on clothes. He was halfway into a white shirt when he realized he could watch Potter through the slats of the screen. Harry’s slender hands clutched around for the arms to the chair nervously. Snape noted that Harry’s clothes under his robe seemed wonderfully mundane enough that he was going to blend in very nicely. The jeans were worn, but not too worn, and the black tee shirt was loose and comfortable at the same time. He looked so very Muggle, Snape mused to himself. How did he do it?

"Hagrid and I spent Tuesday in the Forest. Fed a few animals. Avoided the centaurs. They’re still a bit peeved. Collected a few mushrooms," Harry said.

"Go on," Snape said. Potter was turning his head to follow the direction of Severus’s voice.

"Wednesday, Professor McGonagall and I went to visit her sister."

"Which one?"

"Artemis," Lupin replied meaningfully.

"Hmm," Snape commented.

"You’ve met her?" Harry asked.

"Oh, he’s met her," Lupin nodded.

"What did you do Thursday?" Snape asked Harry, interrupting Lupin’s tangent quite on purpose. Harry was puzzled about their exchange, but did not divert again. The last thing Severus wanted to talk about with Harry was the week and a half he had spent in Artemis’s company, or should he say custody, as the younger McGonagall was in fact a skilled psychiatric doctor in one of St. Mungo’s most dangerous wards. Severus was certain that his visit with Artemis McGonagall and Harry’s visit with her had been horses of two very different colors.

"Madam Hooch and I tested new racing brooms and flying maneuvers. She made me wear a helmet and goggles. I felt like an idiot. But I was more aerodynamic," Harry answered.

"Are you considering resuming your Quidditch playing?" Snape asked.

"No. I really hadn’t thought about it. Too many other things on my mind," Harry said shyly. "Sure Draco will be happy to hear that."

"Perhaps not. I believe his interest in Quidditch was spurred by a keen desire to best you, and if you're not going to play, he may very well not play either. Although he did take great relish from besting Mr. Weasley, so one cannot be too sure," Snape said. "How was Friday?"

"Oh, Friday," Harry snickered. Snape leaned sideways at the curious sound. "Professor McGonagall and I went to have lunch with Aunt Petunia. She wanted to see how the rebuilding was going."

"How is it going?"

"It could take weeks to put Privet back together," Lupin put in. Harry seemed to find this very amusing. He was coughing back laughter.

"What story did you give to the Muggles? Another gas explosion?" Snape asked dryly.

"Ought to be outlawed," Lupin agreed. "What? You think we should have told them the truth?"

"Hardly. How did McGonagall and Mrs. Dursley get on?" Snape asked. Harry gave a quick snort of laughter, and Lupin tapped his knee lightly.

"It’s not funny, Harry."

"Professor McGonagall and Aunt Petunia had a bit of a private discussion that made Aunt Petunia extremely angry. I don’t know what it was about, because McGonagall sent me out of the room and into the kitchen. A sudden craving for tea, would I be a dear and make a pot? Whatever they talked about, Aunt Petunia was furious when I came back. Kept glaring at me. But the best news is, I’ve been banned from Privet," Harry smiled slyly.

"It was all a misunderstanding," Lupin complained. "But that woman wouldn’t listen to reason."

"She said she’d talked to Uncle Vernon about me returning next summer, but that she wasn’t promising anything, and it was best to plan on me residing elsewhere. I said it was perfectly all right as far as I was concerned. If I’d known all I had to do to escape my incarceration at Privet was get Voldemort to blow up the house, well, bloody hell, I’d’ve put a target on the roof years ago. McGonagall said that wasn’t funny."

"It’s not," Lupin assured him grimly. "What are we going to do with you next summer?" Remus asked.

"I’ll go anywhere but there. I’ll sleep in a box in King’s Cross Station before I go back there," Harry said, his mood turning dark. "I’m sure there’s some way I can make myself useful to the Order. Do you really have your heart set on sending me back to those people?" he accused.

"What’s the matter with you? Are you not going to be happy until they do me actual harm?"

Snape finished tying his shoes and sat down in the seat next to Potter’s. McGonagall didn’t want Harry going back to Privet any more than he wanted to go, but it wasn’t Snape’s place to reveal that. But he would do whatever he could to help her in the endeavor. Any fool could see the place was a source of great distress for the boy.

"Harry, it’s not like that at all," Lupin tried to explain. Harry shrugged off the arm Remus put on his shoulder.

"Sure looks that way from my perspective," Harry growled.

"What did you and Hagrid do Saturday after McGonagall caught you with the maces and clubs?" Snape asked.

"We spent the rest of the day baking and cooking in the kitchens. Dobby said it was all right. The house elves got a good laugh out of watching us."

"Cooking?" Snape blanched. "You cook?"

"I’m not bad at it," Harry said, shrugging one shoulder. "What did you think of last night’s cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches?"

"Why?"

"Those were mine," Harry said, his smile coming back again.

"They were quite good," Snape begrudged. The crusts had been less-than-neatly trimmed off, but the contents had been very tasty.

"You’re not just saying that?" Harry worried.

"Not at all. Insincere flattery is not my usual modus operandi, is it?"

"No, sir. You know, if this whole wizarding things doesn’t work out, I mean to try my hand at being a chef, or a house elf."

"A what?" Lupin choked.

"Mr. Potter," Severus chided. Surely the child was joking.

"Why not? I’m willing to foreswear clothes if necessary. I’m the house-elf when I’m at the Dursleys. No difference at all between me and Dobby, except I’m taller with more hair. Plus he’s got stronger magic."

"Nonsense. Preposterous. Really, Harry. I don’t ever want to hear you say such things," Lupin sputtered. "Your parents and Sirius would haunt me to my dying day if I allowed you to do such a thing." Lupin cut himself off as Harry’s eyes filled.

"Dobby said with a bit of training I’d be a great chef, and he meant it as a great compliment, I’ll have you know."

"I don’t care what Dobby said," Lupin replied hotly. "Harry Potter, a house-elf!?"

"I could stay in the kitchens next summer. No one would have to see me at all. I can’t bear going back to Privet," Harry whispered, his voice shaking. The trembling moved to his shoulders, slumped his entire frame downward by at least an inch. Lupin sighed heavily and sat down on Harry’s other side. Snape felt as if his heart had imploded, but he was staying out of this argument. He had twelve lists of ways to keep Harry occupied, but he doubted he’d be saddled with the boy for the entire summer next year. He had come up with the lists as a result of trying to find a bright side to having the boy for three days this year. He had come up with all manner of ghastly, even dangerous things to have the boy do, not all of them spiteful, and some the boy might even have enjoyed, particularly the cultivation of the night-blooming, blood-sucking villars flower.

"I don’t want to hear any more about you being a house-elf," Lupin whispered.

"I’m ready. Shall we?" Severus asked, rising up quickly. "You can open your eyes."

Snape heard the tiny tell-tale clicking of metal– Harry was taking off his glasses. Glancing over one shoulder, he could see that the boy was rubbing his eyes. By the time they were out in the hallway, Harry had his spectacles back in place. Severus was not surprised by the redness in his eyes, but Harry’s attempt at a cheerful smile caused further damage to Snape’s already-shaky heart.

"We’re going to London, aren’t we?" Harry asked.

"You guessed from my clothes?" Snape assumed, puffing up a bit.

"That, and the train tickets in your pocket."

"Floo is still down, eh?" Lupin fussed.

"Yes, I’m afraid so," Snape nodded. "Could take another two weeks."

"Muggle London?" Harry asked, looking Snape up and down. "How do you feel about constructive criticism regarding blending in?" he wondered.

"This isn’t going to work?" Snape asked of his outfit. Harry shook his head no.

"Most people would assume you’ve escaped a hospital somewhere. No one wears sneakers with a suit like that," Harry said. "Fewer still would wear that suit."

"Would my boots be more appropriate?"

"No. You need some nice, boring wingtips. That shirt won’t do either. Did you order that outfit by mail? That’s where all those boxes came from!"

"I’ve never had complaints before about my Muggle disguises," Severus growled.

"No one else would dare," Remus grinned at Harry’s brashness.

"It’s Monday morning," Harry told them. "You’re both going to seem out of place as it is. People will wonder why you’re not at the office. But I can help," Harry offered hopefully.

"How?" Lupin asked.

"We could do a bit of shopping while we’re there, in and around Professor Snape’s appointment. We’re not picking up another book, are we?" Harry asked.

"No," Severus quickly assured him. "Maybe. No," he decided, but not firmly.

"We should shop. You do need to replace your clothes that were at Privet," Lupin agreed, nodding. Severus wondered if Remus was planning to assuage Harry’s foul mood by lavishing him with gifts. Bad Idea. Lupin clearly had a lot to learn about parenting.

"See, you won’t mind having me around. I can be very useful to you both," Harry offered. Severus took the high road around that juicy opening for a witty retort. Harry was no more surprised than he was himself. Lupin blinked at Snape, and faced Harry.

"It’s not about you being useful, Harry. This coming summer, I want you to take a stab at being a normal child. Go to the seashore. Go to the mountains. Enjoy yourself for five minutes instead of worrying about how you can be useful," Lupin sighed impatiently.

"Oh. Easy for you to say. You try relaxing knowing you’re being hunted by an insane dark lord bent of killing you. Yes! I’m relaxed already!"

"Can we discuss this en route? I’m going to be late," Severus interjected.

"What kind of appointment is it?" Harry asked Snape.

"All business, I assure you," Snape said quickly. "We’re meeting a contact of mine, and that’s all I can tell you."

"We’ll need Muggle money to shop outside Diagon Alley," Harry said.

"I have some," Snape said, giving Harry the wallet out of his pocket. Potter opened it and let out a peep of shock. "Is it enough?" he asked. Harry nodded wordlessly and gave him back the wallet.

***

Potter, Lupin, and Snape made their way through the station at nightfall. Harry dragged along quietly behind his teachers, flipping through a newspaper. Severus was devouring one of the books he had purchased while they were shopping. Lupin was watching other people go by. No one gave them more than a passing glance. Snape wasn’t so engrossed in his book that he failed to notice Harry’s wide yawn.

"Mr. Potter, did you approve of the day? Was it time well spent?" he asked, closing the book and putting it in the attache that Harry had insisted he purchase as part of a continuing Muggle disguise.

"It was very interesting. But that man you met with? He was a complete nutter," Harry chuckled, giving the professor back the newspaper.

"One too many taps? Did you zing when you should have zipped?" Remus asked Severus.

"Certainly not. Mr. St. John is invaluable to me."

"Was I imagining things, or did he sorta have your nose?" Harry wondered.

"Why would you need a contact who worked at a Muggle criminal forensics investigation lab of all places?" Lupin wanted to know.

Snape smiled mysteriously, and Harry understood that the joke must be on him and Remus. What had they not picked up on? Today had been a test, and he had failed somehow. He squinted at Snape and furrowed his brow.

"Are you working on Professor McGonagall’s list still?" he asked. Snape was wearing a lop-sided smirk that wouldn’t go away. He tried to adjust his expression to be more innocent, but failed miserably.

"Thank you for helping me get my suit straight, Mr. Potter. I shall remember your pointers for my next trip among the Muggles," Severus said.

"He did have a Snape schnozzle, didn’t he?" Lupin agreed, having had time to consider the thought.

"You shouldn’t let that splendidly boring pair of wingtips go to waste," Harry said.

"They are exceedingly dull," Snape said as he stared at his feet. "Did I stick out?"

"You mean compared to the rest of those folks? Not one of those lab people has seen the light of day in a decade. I know vampires with better skin tone. Severus, they were just your kind. You blended in perfectly," Remus teased faintly.

"Ah. A compliment. I may die of shock," Snape retorted.

They reached an empty compartment and settled in. Snape consumed another book as Harry studied the landscape outside the window. Harry was asleep by the time they reached Hogwarts. Lupin was watching Harry with a tangible sadness around him. Probably still pondering that whole ‘house elf’ thing. Snape put away his book and studied the boy, trying to decide what to do. How were they going to get the boy back to the castle without waking him? Maybe he shouldn’t disturb Potter at all– the boy appeared to be sleeping very peacefully, curled up on the cushion, his glasses folded in front of him. One hand was settled over them protectively.

It must hurt to grow that fast. His fingers were tight and slender. He was too thin. Much too thin. Thin like Lily. Beautiful like Lily. Severus couldn’t stop himself from thinking, while staring at Harry, that under different circumstances, this child would have been his. One of the Muggles at the clothing store had complimented him on what a polite teen he had raised. Snape had been a hair’s breadth from telling the fool off, as he didn’t have any children of his own, only ones he borrowed from other people, and ‘thank you so much for reminding me yet again of the areas in my life that are mournfully lacking. I had forgotten for a full five minutes that there was a gaping hole in my world’.

Then he realized the man had mistakenly believed he and Harry were father and son. Severus had been left with a blazing coal of regret burning in his stomach all day from that silly encounter. Couldn’t anyone tell by looking at Harry that he and Severus were in no way related? Harry was quickly growing into everything Snape felt he never would be– tall, handsome, gallant, modest. Unlike James Potter, at least Harry was modest. Snape sighed to himself. Did it really take getting verbally and physically abused to make someone self-effacing about their accomplishments and abilities?

Lupin stood and stretched loudly. Bones crackled loudly as he twisted from side to side. Snape heard a tap at the train window and glanced sideways in annoyance. Hagrid’s grinning visage appeared.

"Where have you been? It’s after midnight. It’s officially been Tuesday for a couple hours now," Rubeus whispered when Snape lowered the window far enough that the giant could lean through the aperture. "What took you so long?"

"We went shopping for a few things," Lupin murmured, patting his chest pocket where the items had been shrunk and concealed. Severus wished he had done that the other day with Flitwick’s annoying packages.

"Apparently I have been much deceived about my ability to blend in with Muggles," Severus commented.

"Mm hmm," Hagrid said, secreting Harry’s glasses into a hidden pocket somewhere in his furry cloak.

"I told you, you don’t take criticism well. We were worried you’d turn us into newts," Lupin interjected.

"After my appointment, Mr. Potter suggested something laughingly called fast food. It was anything but. We almost missed the last train," Severus said.

He decided not to mention that Harry had not consumed enough food for his liking. For a growing teen, he should be eating much more, Snape had thought. But Harry had nibbled at best, finishing half his sandwich and drink before insisting to Snape he was full. Lupin had tried as well to convince Harry to eat more, but he hadn’t had any more success than Severus had had. Hagrid would have known how to make Harry eat more, Snape was sure of it. Potter had been very amused when Lupin and Snape stared at the table, waiting for the dishes to magically clean themselves. Harry had spent the better part of ten minutes trying to explain why it was called ‘bussing’ the table, and further more why it was necessary at all. Snape gave half a thought to consulting Harry about giving him Muggle-blending lessons. Only half a thought. Maybe a quarter of a thought.

"Thought you’d gone and done something rash with him," Hagrid said.

"Like what?" Remus asked.

"I’ve heard there’s child-slaving rings in London."

"We wouldn’t get much. He’s on the thin side. But in five years or so, once he fills out, we would get a good price," Snape said matter-of-factly. Hagrid gave Severus a hot, dirty look before hauling Harry carefully out the window. The giant folded the teen inside his cloak, with Harry’s arms up around his neck and his legs around Hagrid’s broad middle. He buttoned his coat behind Harry’s bottom, supporting him underneath on the swing of his huge arms.

"Mm?" Harry’s hum was muffled. Snape wondered if he could breathe in there, or if he’d want to.

"I got you, lad. Go back to sleep," Rubeus whispered. Harry’s grip around Hagrid’s neck tightened as he settled into a comfortable position. A hint of black hair peeked out of Hagrid’s coat. Hagrid was smiling wistfully, rubbing Harry’s back through the coat. Potter had said something else, but Snape couldn’t hear him.

"Are there really child-slaving rings in London?" Lupin asked Snape as an aside. Severus seized the opportunity for all it was worth.

"I can recommend a contact in Knockturn Alley," he said with a malicious leer. Lupin glowered at him.

"It’s lucky for you I know you’re kidding, Snape," Remus answered.

"How was your appointment?" Hagrid asked Severus. "What did you dig up on Volkova? McGonagall’s been pacing around her office all afternoon."

"She doesn’t have a criminal history in the United Kingdom. St. John will let me know the instant he finds anything on her abroad."

"McGonagall will be pleased," Lupin said.

"Pleased? She’ll jump up and click her heels," Hagrid smiled.

"Is there any particular reason you traipsed all the way there?"Remus asked Snape. "It’s not like you couldn’t have contacted St. John a different way."

"I had to hand deliver a particular vial to him."

"I wondered what took so long in the back room."

"It’s a very volatile potion. By hand was the only safe way to deliver it."

"Naturally," Remus nodded.

"I’ve been meaning to ask," Hagrid said over his shoulder. "Did you take Harry’s card from him?"

"Which card?" Lupin wanted to know.

"Yes," Severus replied. He knew which card, obviously. "He asked too many piercing questions."

"Told you he was a fast one. Give it back– won’t you? He looked all over for it and was disappointed when he thought he lost it," Hagrid pleaded.

"It’s remarkable he found one of her cards as it is. There are only five, and I sent them to the four corners of the earth on purpose."

"Which card?" Lupin asked again, feeling left out.

"Yeah, you wouldn’t believe how long it took me to find one for him," Hagrid laughed. Snape raised a dark brow at that comment, but let it pass. He had known it wasn’t a coincidence that Harry had gotten one of his wife’s cards, but wasn’t sure he liked having Hagrid taunt him about it. It burned a hole right through his stomach in fact. He had suspected the absent-minded and well-meaning Dumbledore had given it by accident, or perhaps the insidiously-cunning McGonagall– ever-shrewd, ever-watchful– but never Hagrid.

"What are you going to do with him tomorrow?" Snape asked.

"Which card?" Remus pressed, his brow furrowing.

"He asked if I could teach him to use a few of the weapons around the castle. Dying to get his hands on the broadswords."

"Is that such a good idea after how angry McGonagall got about the maces and clubs??" Snape wondered.

"Oh, sure it is," Hagrid said eagerly. "We’ll be much more discrete this time."

"Which card?" Remus asked, raising his voice.

"His missus," Hagrid poked a thumb towards Snape. Remus turned with a wicked smile. Severus made a sour face.

"One word, Lupin. One word and I’ll fry you," Snape growled.

"Garlic," Lupin quipped. Snape glared intensely at him. Hagrid wondered briefly if he should get between them, but decided against it.

"It’s a wonder to me that you haven’t ended up in a glass jar with a caution sign on it," Severus hissed, crossing both arms over his chest.

"You two act your ages," Hagrid told them sharply. "What are you going to do with Harry next Monday?"

"You could give him an in-depth lecture about vampires?" Remus suggested.

"No," Severus insisted, giving Lupin the most evil-eye he’d ever endured.

"Werewolves?" Lupin smiled. "I’m willing to help with that."

"No," Severus repeated. "No thank you."

"The walking dead? Zombies? Banshees? Harry loves that kind of thing, you know. He has a talent for it," Lupin said.

"You could get him very interested in the Dark Arts, if you tried hard enough," Hagrid suggested.

"I believe Mr. Potter has had quite enough of the Dark Arts in his life to satisfy even the most ravenous curiosity. And might I remind you, I am the POTIONS MASTER. What else can you recommend to spark his attention?"

"Me?" Hagrid’s eyes went wide.

"Both of you. Either of you."

"I’m hearing things." Remus rubbed one ear quickly.

"I’m his teacher. I’m not an entertainer, and I’m certainly not Mr. Potter’s friend," Snape murmured. "You both know Harry far better than I do." He was painfully aware that Potter was happily curled up inside the giant’s cloak, snuggled against the furry brute. What was it like to have someone trust you so much they’d sleep against you?

"I happen to know you can duel with more than a wand," Hagrid began.

"Yes? What’s your point?"

"You’ve a fair pair of pretty rapiers locked up in your study," Lupin said. "Rapiers that haven’t seen the light of day since you and Lily used to duel."

"You aren’t actually, seriously suggesting I teach a child how to use a deadly, three foot long piece of sharpened metal. I don’t know if that’s such a good idea."

"Sure it is," Hagrid smiled.

"Think of it as Defense against Dark Arts training for when he doesn’t have his wand," Remus nodded. "I’ll help in whatever way I can."

"Harry would love that. He’d lap that up like milk," Hagrid agreed. Snape let that idea bounce around his head for a couple seconds, and shook his head.

"Too dangerous," Snape dismissed. "Our time would be better served if I tended to his scholastic needs rather than feeding his lust for danger and pain."

"Severus, you are the absolute definition of avoidance behavior, aren’t you?" Lupin accused.

"I’m not avoiding anything. Let’s get back to the fucking castle, shall we?" he snapped.

"Avoidance behavior and misplaced anger issues," Hagrid murmured to Lupin. Snape ignored them, walking on ahead in the direction of Hogwarts.

"No. Once McGonagall explained to them what your aunt said had been happening over the summer, they understood perfectly," Ron replied.

"I was worried something would happen to one of you, you know?" Harry said, bowing his head.

"They weren’t offended," Ron assured him.

"Were you?" Harry tested. Ron grinned suddenly.

"Yes, you dirty git," he muttered, putting on a quick, completely fake glare.

"Oh, so you’d fancy getting choked in your sleep? I tried to do Aunt Petunia in that way. I tried to bludgeon Dudley with my bedside lamp twice."

"I could handle you," Ron shrugged.

"Could you?" Harry found a small smile.

"Yeah. I know your weaknesses," Ron said, diving his fingers under Harry’s robe and into his ribs, scrunching and squishing around. Harry almost fell off the bench backwards, his laugh rolling loudly through the crowded Great Hall. Ron turned the tickling into a big, brutal hug.

"Will you two please act your age?" Hermione chided as she sat down on Harry’s other side. "Honestly."

"Don’t mind her," Ron said, pointing a thumb at Hermione as he helped Harry right himself on the bench. "Probably that time of the month," he whispered to Harry, handing him the book he had dropped.

"Have you been practicing Occlumency with Professor Snape over the summer?" Hermione asked Harry, giving Ron a dirty look.

 "Um, we sorta mutually decided it wasn’t a good idea to pursue that particular topic," he replied. "But we haven’t been completely idle, if that’s what you’re asking. He said I could read any of his books I wanted to, and so I have been."

He showed Ron and Hermione the book he had dropped.

"The Basics of Dueling," Ron questioned. "You mean, Snape is teaching you how to....?" Ron’s eyes went wide, and he quickly made a left and right motion with his hand. "No way! How did you swing that?" Ron bawled loudly.

"He’s not teaching me to duel. I’m reading about it. That’s all," Harry corrected.

"If you learn enough from the book to prove you aren’t going to hurt yourself, Snape promised Lupin he’d teach you to fence," Hermione said. Harry and Ron looked quickly her direction. This was clearly news to Harry.

"Really?" Harry gulped.

"Oh, it’s a secret then?" Ron asked.

"How’d you find out?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Tonks told me. We’ve been keeping in touch," Hermione smiled at Harry, who immediately had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"That means they’ve been spending all summer talking about us behind our backs," Ron told Harry.

"Oi. Bloody great," Harry commented.

"I thought we agreed we weren’t talking," Hermione said to Ron.

"Answering that remark would mean I’d be talking to you. I’m not talking to you," Ron told her gruffly.

"I heard you planted one on the new Dark Arts instructor," Hermione teased Harry.

"Wait. What’s that?" Ron demanded, taking her arm.

"Stop talking to me!" Hermione raised her voice at him. Harry was sure he had felt the shock wave of her scream raise the hair on his head.

"I’ll tell you about it later," he promised Ron, with every intention of obliviating Hermione if the chance showed itself.

"Remus Lupin agreed to help Snape with his Potions classes if Snape agreed to teach you to duel. That’s what Tonks told me," Hermione informed Harry softly as Dumbledore rose to his feet to talk.

"Did he really?" Harry’s eyes went wide. "He didn’t tell me that."

They went quiet as Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and began to speak.

"My Fellow Hogwarts students. How good it is to see you all again after so many weeks. I hope you have spent your summers well, but now that it’s over, I hope you’ve returned to Hogwarts with the intention of buckling down and getting busy on your studies. I know you must be hungry, and we will shortly be indulging in a well-deserved feast, just as soon as I’ve given the start-of-term notices."

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses again and glanced down at the note in his hand.

"Ah. I’m sure many of you have wondered which brave soul we’ve convinced to take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor for this year. I’m happy to announce that Professor McGonagall has selected Professor Anna Volkova from our list of candidates. Unfortunately, Professor Volkova’s has had a family emergency, and she will not be able to join us for tonight’s feast. I am assured she will be with us before the end of the week. In the meantime, another instructor will be standing in for her for the first week."

"Volkova. Sounds Russian," Hermione commented.

"Is that the one you bussed?" Ron wanted to know.

"Shhh," Harry squeaked under breath.

"As with recent years, the Dark Forest is to be considered out-of-bounds. I understand there has been some confusion as to what this might mean. By the ‘Dark Forest’, I mean the place nearest to our game-keeper’s home where the trees are thickest. By ‘out-of-bounds’ I mean that you are politely requested to refrain. I don’t see how I can make this more plain, but if you need further clarification, please see me tomorrow, and I will try," he added, smiling in Harry’s direction. Harry felt the glance and ducked down out of sight. McGonagall handed Dumbledore another note from her place to his right. He glanced over the note quickly, still stifling a chuckle. "Professor McGonagall has asked me to announce that this term, she is reinstating the Odd Jobs bulletin board, asking that the students who answer these requests take these tasks seriously, or not at all."

"Odd jobs?" Harry puzzled. "Do you think they mean varied or peculiar?" he asked.

"I’m sure they mean both," Ron grinned.

"Right up your alley," Harry whispered to Hermione, who was beaming happily.

"Up yours too," Hermione replied. Harry was taken aback for half a second before she added, "The tasks are performed for either points or financial reimbursement. You both could use more points."

"Not nearly as much as the financial reimbursement," Ron whispered to Harry.

"And finally, concerning last year’s events which intruded so roughly and rudely into our pursuit of knowledge, I’m happy to report that the Ministry of Magic has decided to repeal all the edicts that had been put into effect by former professor/head mistress Dolores Umbridge. They are to considered null and void as of the start of this term."

A loud cheer rose up from all the table except that of the Slytherins. But no one was at all surprised by this.

"Wonder how Malfoy will feel about that?" Ron laughed to Harry, who turned to glance over at the Slytherin table. "Oh, don’t bother. He wasn’t on the train."

"Where’s he at?" Harry gulped, dark nervousness nibbling at him.

"Arriving tomorrow. He was traveling back from France and got delayed," Hermione answered. "I heard Pansy wailing about how much she missed him, and couldn’t wait to see him."

"Oh, gag me," Ron moaned.

"That concludes the notices. Let’s eat," Dumbledore said loudly. The students cheered again and grabbed at the food when it finished materializing on their platters and plates.

"So you been here since August?" Ron asked, stuffing a forkful of roast beef into his mouth. "Is it weird here without all the students and instructors?"

"Some of the instructors were still here," Harry revealed.

"Only those with no place to go over the summer, " Ron said. Harry wondered sadly if that were true, that the ones who remained had no place else they’d rather be. He glanced up at the instructors’ table and saw Professor Snape surveying the crowd with a critical eye. Harry raised his goblet to Snape, and to his surprise, Snape returned the gesture very casually before turning to hear what McGonagall was saying.

"Is it true that Lupin got a house in Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked.

"Thought you were talking to Tonks. Didn’t she tell you all about it?" Ron retorted snidely before Harry could answer Hermione.

"Yes. It’s a nice place too," Harry smiled. "Doesn’t look big from the outside, but it’s got three bedrooms."

"Why so many?" Hermione asked.

"One for him. One for me," Harry said softly.

"What about the third one?" Ron asked.

"For Sirius when he comes back," Harry explained. Hermione nodded, her eyes following Harry sadly. "Remus said I could visit on Hogsmeade weekends and any other time I want as long as I have permission from Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore," Harry went on, ignoring Hermione’s expression.

"So, does that mean you’re not going to the Dursleys next summer?" Ron gaped at him. Harry took a small bite of mashed potatoes and shook his head no.

"I’ve been banned. Aunt Petunia’s had enough of me."

"You won’t have to go back next summer?" Ron asked again.

"Not unless Aunt Petunia has a change of heart between now and then. Which is quite unlikely, owing to the fact she doesn’t have a heart," Harry said, feeling a twinge of guilt when he voiced the words. "Maybe she does. But there’s only enough room for Dudley there. He’s pretty good sized, so that’s understandable, don’t you think?"

"It’s wonderful news. I’m happy for you," Hermione whispered gently, putting an arm around Harry’s waist and pecking him on the side of the head.

"Let the man go already, and quit channeling his mum," Ron said testily. Hermione shot a deadly glance at Ron over Harry’s head.

"Why are you two fighting, anyway, or do I want to know?" Harry asked. Hermione picked up her glass and gulped angrily. Ron looked away, not answering. But his body language was clearly answering ‘no comment’ as well. "All right. You don’t have to tell me if it’s personal," Harry added.

"It’s not personal!" Ron insisted.

"Okay," Harry nodded, puzzled.

"I’m not talking to him because he’s a chauvinist pig, and he ought to have an apple in his mouth and be turning over a flame pit," Hermione snapped.

"What did you do?" Harry asked Ron, giving him an apple off a tray within reach.

"Oh! I’m a chauvinist pig? You’re the one who’s two-timing me, with Oliver Wood of all people!"

"Two-timing!? How can I be two-timing you with anyone when we aren’t even....you haven’t even asked me to be your girlfriend. And I’m not dating Oliver! He was in town, that’s all, and we had dinner with my parents."

"Shh!" Harry said, stopping Hermione’s sputtering before they attracted any more attention than they already had.

"Hullo," Hagrid said, still standing at the door. "And how was your summer?"

"Wonderful," Hermione said, giving Hagrid a squeeze around the middle.

"How did Lupin talk Snape into giving Harry dueling lessons?" Ron wanted to know.

"That’s supposed to be a secret," Hagrid narrowed his eyes at Harry.

"Sorry," Harry shrugged. "Hermione is the one who told me."

"Is Professor Lupin really going to help Snape out with his potions classes?" Ron wanted to know. "Why would he help that git out?"

"He’s not really a git, Ron," Harry said quickly. Weasley gave him a wide-eyed gape. "Well, sometimes he is. But he’s been very nice to me this summer."

"Is he suffering from amnesia? A blow to the head from a blunt object?" Ron laughed.

"No. He’s just been very nice, that’s all," Harry said, wishing Ron would stop laughing that way.

"Someone must have put him up to it," Ron decided.

"Yeah, sure," Harry said darkly. "Why else would anyone be nice to me?"

"That’s not what he meant, Harry," Hagrid chided softly.

"Not at all," Ron added, shocked at Harry.

"I happen to have been passing through the hall this morning when McGonagall put up the Odd Jobs board," Hagrid told them.

"We should check it out on the way to class," Ron said, nudging Harry in the arm. Harry nodded in agreement, but his foul mood had not lifted.

"I think that’s a great idea," Hagrid put in.

"Perhaps you’d better see how the school work shapes up before you commit to anything though," Hermione said. "Tell us what you know about the new Dark Arts teacher," she pleaded, helping Hagrid put together four teacups.

"Oh, we’re lucky to get her," Hagrid whistled. "We nearly lost her to Durmstrang. It was this close. They lost their Dark Arts instructor last year too."

"We haven’t got Volkova yet. Dumbledore is standing in for her," Ron laughed, snatching a cake off the tray before Hermione even put it on the table between them.

"What kind of family emergency came up?" Hermione asked. "No one could tell me. They were all pretty cryptic about it."

"It has to do with her grandfather. That’s all I know," Hagrid replied.

"She got an owl at dinner night before last," Harry explained. "It landed right in front of her dessert. It wasn’t carrying a message, but it was the scariest damned owl I’ve ever seen in my life. It glared at her for a few seconds before bursting into ash all over the table. That was the message, I suppose. She started breathing funny, got up, and left the room. McGonagall followed her out into the hallway. McGonagall returned, but Volkova didn’t."

"That’s odd," Hermione agreed with Harry.

"So do you like her?" Ron asked.

"Well, she’s different than Umbridge, that’s for sure," Harry replied cagily.

"How’s she different?"

"Taller," Harry said, motioning above his head. "Blonde. Green eyes. On the thin side. Kinda sticky. She could use a few square meals. She’s got her own house elf, name is Malchik. She’s a nervous little thing. Sneaking up and down the corridors, always watching her back. Wonder what she’s so afraid of. She’s not in the kitchens all the time, but Dobby said she pops in there with meal suggestions."

"Tell me about Volkova, not her house elf," Ron laughed.

"Professor Volkova’s thirty-three, never been married, likes Italian food. She apparently spent a lot of time in Italy, living with her grandfather. Wait. Is that the same grandfather the owl was from?" Harry turned and asked Hagrid. It was then he realized the other three were staring at him, smiling strangely.

"Where did you find all that out?" Hagrid asked.

"I saw her resume on McGonagall’s desk," Harry admitted. "And I asked her, too."

"You spent a bit of time with her, eh?" Ron asked him.

"Hard not to. She all but followed Lupin and I around the grounds, and then she was popping up every five minutes when I was with Professor Snape Monday last," Harry smiled slyly. "Truth be told, if I were the romantic sort, I’d suspect she’s got her sights set on him."

"What?" Ron choked. "On Lupin or Snape?"

"Snape. But she was pretty conversational with Remus for that matter too. She knows all about Professor Snape. Followed him like a puppy. She’s either spying on him, or she’s got a crush on him. It sounded like a bit of hero worship going on."

"For a minute there, you sounded like you might fancy her," Ron teased Harry.

"Not even remotely," Harry denied. Hagrid chuckled deeply. "What?"

"I’m siding with Ron on this," Hagrid said. "You do sound like you fancy Volkova."

"She’s twice my age, and besides," Harry nibbled on a cake, sitting carefully back on the bench.

"Besides what?" Ron pressed.

"Besides, what the hell would she want with me?" Harry muttered.

"You did kiss her right on the lips," Hermione mused. "Maybe’s she’s got the wrong idea about you."

"Will one of you tell me how that happened?" Ron asked.

"I was chasing Tonks, who was Snape, because she took your letter from me. Tonks went around the corner. When I followed, there was Snape, McGonagall, and Volkova. No Tonks. Since Snape was standing with McGonagall, I assumed Volkova was Tonks."

"And you kissed her? Harry, who'd've thought you'd have it in you!" Ron laughed.

"Kissed is a strong word," Harry resisted.

"Tongue and everything." Hermione teased. "Don’t lie, Harry. It was one helluva buss."

"It was purely a case of mistaken identity," Harry assured Ron. "I don’t go around kissing strange people all the time."

"What made you think you could kiss Tonks like that? Have you and Tonks been seeing each other?" Ron asked, curious and jealous as well.

"No. I figured if I kissed Tonks like that, she’d clobber me. That was the plan. She’d be so mad, she’d drop the disguise. But, fuck me, it weren’t no disguise," Harry wailed.

"That’s enough of that language," Hagrid chided.

"Never been so humiliated in all my life," Harry added sulkily.

"Tonks said Volkova said it was the best kiss she’d had in years," Hermione said.

"I’m quite certain she was being sarcastic," Harry scoffed.

"Don’t be so sure. She’s thirty-three and single," Ron laughed.

"Single and celibate are not the same thing," Harry retorted.

"You expect that kiss might get you some extra points in Dark Arts?" Ron teased. "Cause I’m willing to be sexually harassed if it means my average rises."

"But I’m sure she’s not....Ron! It’s not like that," Harry squeaked when Ron put his two index fingers together and made little kissy noises.

"That’s enough," Hagrid laughed, separating the two boys when they began to tussle about. "Off to class with the lot of you."

"There’s rules against that besides," Hermione interjected, patting Harry’s arm. "If she does anything untoward to you, you tell McGonagall, and Volkova will be in a jar on her desk for a month."

"Pervert," Harry said to Ron, who laughed and made more kissy noises.

"Can’t imagine it. You bussed her? Right on the lips?" Ron asked, putting his book flat and assuming a position much like Harry’s, chin on hands, gazing at the pages before him. Harry’s gaze bounced up to the table at the head of the room, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Volkova were carrying on a friendly conversation.

"Did you know ‘Volkova’ means wolf in Russian?" Hermione put in across from them. Harry’s eyes went under the instructors’ table. He wondered where Malchik was hiding. He had seen her come in with Volkova, but she was not sitting at the table or standing behind her mistress. No matter how calm and collected Volkova always was, there was no denying that Malchik was Anxiety Incarnate.

"Don’t you find her attractive, Harry?" Ron wanted to know. Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, hiding behind her book. "Go on. Be objective. Give her a look," Ron pleaded.

Harry ignored his book for the meantime and looked around again. He found Volkova had gone over to the Slytherin table. She was deep in conversation with Draco Malfoy. It didn’t seem to be a pleasant conversation either. The other Slytherins were passing a book around the table, laughing heartily. She held out a hand and waited. The book was quietly surrendered. Harry shrugged one shoulder, very aware that Hermione was glowering at him and Ron quite fiercely.

"Wish you’d stop going on about her. It’s embarrassing," Hermione complained.

"She’s fair, I suppose," Harry answered. "Especially when she looks like she wants to tear Draco’s nose off. But she’s taller than me."

"Almost everyone is taller than you, Harry. Why are you laughing?" Ron wanted to know when Harry started to smirk.

"She and Draco must use the same hair dye," Harry joked, putting his chin back down on his hands.

"What?" Weasley laughed, darting his head back around.

"Their hair is the same color. Always suspected Malfoy wasn’t a natural blond."

"Maybe they have the same hairdresser," Ron shrugged.

"What do you suppose happened to her grandfather?" Harry wanted to know. "She didn’t say a thing about it when she came back and started teaching classes. It’s been a week, and nothing. By looking at her, you wouldn’t think it was anything bad, but I get the feeling she’s just not talking about it."

"Yeah. Some people can be incommunicative when they’re in pain. They’re not good at sharing what’s wrong," Ron said meaningfully. Harry pretended to be ignorant, but knew that had been a big hint about something.

Harry had awakened twice this week after terrible dreams about his cupboard to find Ron sitting beside his bed in the dorms. He had seen Ron talking to McGonagall as well, and the very next day, McGonagall had had him into her office for a visit. She had lessened his classload by removing Muggle Studies, giving him an extra afternoon each week to figure out what the hell to do with himself. Dumbledore had had Harry up for tea at least once a week since school started. They talked about his school work, the Dursleys, creature care classes with Hagrid, the Dursleys, how Harry was liking having access to Snape’s private library, the Dursleys. Harry wasn’t always the brightest bulb on the tree, but even he was starting to pick up on a theme here. It was touching they were concerned, but on the other hand, Harry felt they were all breathing down his neck. The fact of the matter was, it had occurred to him that he should admit he was quite miserable at the Dursleys and never wanted to return, but this should have been pretty evident to anyone with half a brain and two thoughts that linked in sequence. And telling them all how miserable he actually was there smacked a bit of whining, which Harry would go to any length to avoid. Instead of laying out the complete truth on the topic, Harry adopted a plan of avoiding the topic, hoping it would make the sudden interest in the Dursleys diminish. Much to his surprise quite the opposite happened.

"Would you look at Malfoy?" Harry changed the subject. "Wouldn’t you say he’s rather pale for a bloke who spent the summer on the French Riviera?"

"How do you know that’s where he spent the summer on the Riviera?" Hermione asked.

"I have my sources," Harry replied.

"Who cares about Draco? I want to know more about Volkova," Ron complained. "Like how she feels about striking red-heads."

"Why do you want her to hit you?" Harry asked with feigned innocence.

"Not what I meant, stupid git." Ron made a face. Harry broke into a wicked smile.

"If you’re so keen on getting to know more about Professor Volkova, why don’t you go talk to her?" Hermione said. Harry detected more than a hint of jealousy in her voice.

"No, Hermione. I don’t think that’s such a good idea," Ron protested.

"Why not? Afraid she’ll hex you?"

"Yes," Harry admitted.

"Oh, be serious," Hermione gnashed her teeth at them as if to ask why she always had to be the adult of their group.

"Wonder if Professor Snape knows anything about her," Harry pondered quietly. "Want me to ask him tomorrow? I’m supposed to return the dueling book."

"Finished reading it yet? Learnt anything?" Ron said, peering over Harry’s shoulder.

"Enough to know I’m in over my head," Harry replied.

"Has he let you touch his sword yet?" Harry stared at Ron for a second, and his grin got even more wicked. "Not what I meant either," Weasley muttered, rolling his eyes.

"I’m to learn the manual inside out. I may not even get to the whole handling the swords, you know."

"Why would you want to learn how to use a sword?" Hermione asked. "I mean, if you’re going Muggle, wouldn’t a gun be faster?"

"It was Hagrid’s suggestion apparently," Harry defended. "He said it would give me an outlet for my pent-up hostility. Professor Lupin agreed, and they set about persuading Professor Snape."

"I never noticed you had pent-up hostility," Ron joked.

"It’s pent-up well then, wouldn’t you agree?" Harry replied, going back to reading. "We got in trouble for trying to use the maces, and the rapiers were Hagrid’s idea."

"I’ve always suspected you needed an outlet or two, especially considering how you took after Sirius in the Shrieking Shack. You were like a complete madman," Hermione whispered.

"You will remember of course that at the time, I thought he had killed my parents," Harry reminded her softly without looking up.

"Mr. Potter?" a voice behind Harry made him turn in surprise. He should have known who it was by the way Ron was suddenly turning colors and squirming in his seat.

"Yes, Professor Volkova?"

"I wonder if you have your Transfiguration notes," Volkova said, her emotionless green eyes wandering around the table. Everyone pretended to be engrossed in their work. Harry dug through his bag to retrieve the right book. Ron gaped at Volkova like a shocked fish. Hermione had to fight the fleeting but very keen desire to pull Volkova’s long blond hair. But at least Volkova was here about Harry and not Ron.

"What do you think of Hogwarts so far? Is it better than your last school?" Hermione asked, deciding to work out her jealousies with a polite conversation. She could like Volkova if she tried hard enough. She knew she could.

"It’s different, of course," Volkova replied hesitantly. "The weather is rather a nice change. Malchik keeps taking recipes from home to the house elves, bless her heart. I’ve had to put a silencing spell around my office during certain hours, and someone has taken at least three of my best quills already. The coffee is simply unspeakable."

"I must have my notes somewhere. Hang on," Harry whispered, digging further into his bag.

"The uniform skirts are too short for my taste. I find the older boys are distracted from their work. I wonder if I should ask Professor McGonagall to give young ladies the option of wearing trousers instead," Volkova continued.

"That’s an excellent idea!" Hermione gushed.

"Why would you want to wear trousers?" Harry asked Hermione, whose eyes were glowing with new-found admiration.

"She wants to get into our pants," Ron squeaked, trying to hold back his amusement. Harry laughed with Ron until Hermione and Volkova both scowled fiercely at them. The boys quickly stopped laughing.

"I know I have my notes somewhere," Harry said. He started taking things out of his bag and stacking them on the table. Wizard cards tumbled everywhere. Ron scooped them up and stacked them, flipping through eagerly.

"McGinnis the Magnificent? Merlin, he gets around," Weasley commented.

"Mr. Potter, you may stop searching. You don’t have your notes," Volkova said. She produced a book from out of her robe sleeve and gave it to Harry. "Yours was not among the books Professor McGonagall was marking. Mr. Malfoy was passing a book around among his friends, and that roused my suspicions. He must have taken them from you after class, while you were helping Mr. Longbottom."

From the Slytherin table, Malfoy was glaring daggers at her. Volkova flashed him a malevolent look, narrowing her eyes. Draco flinched away, hunched down in his place, and muttered to Crabbe and Goyle.

"Thanks for rescuing them," Harry said.

"I wouldn’t open it here. Not in mixed company," Volkova cautioned. "Mr. Malfoy must believe he has a future as a graphic artist. Lots of despicably nasty things about you and Mr. Weasley here. Afraid he’s rather overly fond of the Oedipal explicative too."

"Thanks," Harry said, putting it into his bag and closing the top. Oedipal explicative? He’d have to ask Hermione later about that.

"Maybe you can get someone to do a cleaning spell on it?" Volkova suggested. "Professor McGonagall could show you. She taught me a very easy one only this afternoon. Someone charmed my coffee mug to spit at me."

"Thank you. I will ask her later," Harry said. Volkova waited awkwardly. She seemed to want the conversation to continue.

"I see you’re reading Miguel dePunto," she said, running a hand over Snape’s dueling book. "A fine choice as a beginner’s manual. dePunto’s works on swordplay are admired far and wide. Clear and concise on technique without boring the reader with unnecessary chatter."

"Do you know how to fence?" Harry asked.

"I dabble," she decided to say, but her eyes twinkled briefly.

"What do you think of Hogwarts so far?" Harry whispered, not at all comfortable with the way her eyes were traveling over him.

"I already asked that," Hermione reminded him under her breath.

"Just making conversation," Harry shrugged. "Is everything all right at home? How is your grandfather?"

"Brunhilde the Fair. Wow, is she ever," Ron agreed, continuing to flip through the cards.

"You have such an unusual wand," Hermione interrupted, noting the silver cap was that was facing out of Volkova’s robe.

"A family heirloom," Volkova said with a sad voice. She pulled it from her side and let Hermione examine it. It seemed an ordinary wand to Harry but for the two initials on the top.

"Who is I.V.?" Hermione asked. She wiggled the silver cap, and it slid downward to reveal a hidden chamber with liquid inside. Greens and silvers chased each other around in the light as Hermione held it up. It was clear from the professor’s expression that she very much wanted to snatch it away from Hermione.

"Ivan Volkov," she said. "One of my ancestors."

"What’s that inside?" Harry asked.

"Potion," Volkova stalled.

"What kind of potion?" Harry asked.

"A delicate one which must not be jostled about," Volkova said, holding out her hand. Hermione returned the wand to her.

"Where did you get it?" Harry asked.

"It was a gift from my grandfather," Volkova whispered. Her voice dropped to a quiet whisper. "It’s been in the family for generations. I will carry it, now that he is gone."

"Where did he go?" Harry asked. Volkova studied him before she found a half smile. She patted the top of his head as she replied.

"To visit relatives," she told him. Hermione shook her head at Harry.

"Will he be back soon?" Harry wanted to know.

"Mate, she means he’s dead," Ron put in somewhat unnecessarily.

"Oh. Terribly sorry," Harry blushed. Volkova thrust the wand back down inside her robe. Harry’s eyes followed, until Volkova raised a brow at him in warning.

Professor Snape came striding into the room and halted on the threshold, shooting his dark eyes in Volkova’s direction. The stare Volkova returned was absolutely scathing. Harry was curious what had caused such a rift between them. Severus headed to the front of the room and sat beside McGonagall. Professor Snape was watching the exchange between Harry and Volkova closely while trying to look inconspicuous about it, which only made his surveillance that much more obvious.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, stopping on one of the cards. "How did you....where did you....you did NOT get this by accident....where did you ever find her?"

Harry leaned over to see what Weasley was sputtering about, and came face to face with Illumina Snape’s winking portrait. He was about to explain to Ron that it had been from Hagrid, when he went completely still. Volkova was leaning against him to look at the card Ron was holding up. Her breath against the side of his neck was making all his blood rush down between his thighs. And his body started to notice other nice things about her, like her clean scent, her delicate long fingers, her moonlight pale skin. She was wearing a slender silver band on her left index finger, a ring he had never noticed before. Was that from her grandfather too? It glittered teasingly at Harry.

"I don’t know how you feel about good luck charms and the like, but if you want to last longer than the other Dark Arts Instructors, I’d look into it," Hermione suggested, while taking the cards away from Ron and putting them away in Harry’s bag. She dragged Harry’s bag over to her side of the table and hid it down by her feet on the floor.

"But he’s got –" Ron protested.

"I don’t care who he’s got. You’re being rude," Hermione told him pointedly.

"Great, now she’s channeling my mum too," Ron whispered to Harry.

"What do you think of Professor Snape?" Hermione wondered, leaning forward on one arm and studying Volkova. Harry nudged Hermione under the table, causing Volkova to look from Granger back to Potter.

"He’s a bit stiff, but I suspect underneath that hard facade is a very kind man waiting for a chance to prove himself so. He could even be attractive if he stopped making that nasty face all the time."

"Attractive?" Ron managed to get out. His face had a mixture of horror and humor on it that was fascinating to see.

"Handsome even, in that ‘mad, bad, and dangerous to know’ sort of way," Volkova nodded.

"That’s not good at all," Hermione fretted.

"Oh. I see. You’ve heard the rumors," Volkova paused suddenly. "That’s why you’re asking all these questions. Curious little Gryffindors."

"No," Harry insisted, shaking his head.

"What rumors?" Ron asked.

"I won’t stoop to repeating them, except to clarify that they are not true," Volkova murmured, turning a bit more to face Hermione. Harry felt the professor’s arm brush his back, and trace down his spine. He barely stifled a moan.

"What I heard Malfoy saying in Herbology was that you were fired from your last teaching position because you had a relationship with one of your students. But Malfoy is hardly what I’d consider a reliable source. You would have never been hired here if that were remotely true," Hermione said bluntly. "Professor McGonagall would have never let you past the front door. So obviously it’s not at all true. I knew that."

"I had a relationship with one of the instructors that I worked with, not one of the students. Mr. Malfoy was misinformed," Volkova said.

"Good to hear," Hermione nodded, quickly putting on a nervous smile.

"Professor Volkova, if you’re setting your sights on Professor Snape, there’s something you very much ought to know," Harry warned.

"What’s that, Mr. Potter?"

"He’s married," Harry said. Volkova’s face warmed with the first genuine laugh that Harry had seen from her.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I know he was married," she replied. "I met his wife when she was alive. We worked together in the Deusredeti before her disappearance and death."

Harry could actually see wheels start turning in Hermione’s brain. Had the well-read Miss Granger heard of the wizarding cult or not? Harry sweated as he waited for Hermione to say something out-of-bounds.

"Deusredeti?" Hermione’s eyes glowed brightly. "What was it was like, working with them?"

"Snape was married?" Ron puzzled.

Harry glanced at the head table again. Snape was putting down his quill and closing his ink well very loudly. In another two seconds, he’d be getting to his feet.

"That was many years ago. The tale of her death is not one for impressionable children," Volkova went cold again.

"The Deusredeti are infamous though, banned in many countries," Hermione added. "Everyone knows that, of course."

"I know who they are," Ron rolled her eyes at her.

"What did they do to get banned?" Harry wanted to know. Volkova glanced nervously in Snape’s direction. Their eyes met, and Snape bared his teeth at her like a feral wolf.

"Wow," Hermione gushed. "Deusredeti. I mean, they’re famous, of course."

"Until tomorrow, children," Volkova said, as she brushed a hand through Harry’s locks, touching the very nape of his neck. She left the study room on quiet feet. Harry was having trouble remembering how to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

"That was odd," Ron commented. He gave Volkova a brief dark look before smiling faintly at Harry.

"Yes, odd," Harry agreed. He avoided Hermione’s gaze by pretending to read from his dueling book. A volatile breeze brushed past his back, and Harry knew without looking that Professor Snape had followed Volkova out of the room. He tried not to look, but felt compelled to regardless.

Snape had caught up with Volkova right outside the door, and their nearly silent conversation brought more color to Volkova’s face than Harry had ever seen. Severus pointed back at Harry, and Potter ducked that blackened gaze, filling with terror. Whatever Harry had done, Snape was simply furious with him. He held very still, wishing away the hard ache throbbing between his thighs. He edged closer to the table and tried to concentrate on his book. He wondered how long would he have to sit here before he could stand up and not attract undue attention to himself.

"I wouldn’t buy that wedding present just yet," Ron said to Harry, indicating Snape and Volkova’s continuing argument. Snape snapped his fingers, and a translucent circle of green went up around them. Then the real shouting began. The orb quivered as it absorbed the sound waves. Harry had to admit he was impressed that Volkova wasn’t shrinking back from Snape, as most people might if trapped near the towering professor when he was in the middle of a full-blown, raging, screaming fit.

"She’s like an onion. She’s got a lot of layers," Hermione said. "I mean, she’s cold, but she’s likeable, you know? Unsettling, but nice. I have a funny feeling about her, but I don’t think she’s up to no good. I’m not sure what to make of her."

"You all right, Harry?," Ron teased, digging under the table for Harry’s bag. Harry sat closer to the table and turned even redder. Hermione watched them with unamused eyes, going back to her notes. "Feel like a walk?" Ron asked.

"No, think I’ll sit a while," he answered back casually.

"How about a nice cold shower?"

"Ron, shush," Harry threatened, frowning at him. Ron only grinned wider.

"Really, you two, you’re like a couple of five year olds. It’s like I’m babysitting when I’m with you," Hermione chided. "It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Harry."

"If she can tell from this close, it really isn’t," Ron cracked up. Harry put his head down on his arms, wanting to poof out of existence right there.

"At your age, it’s perfectly normal for your body to react to innocent...what?" Hermione said when Harry lifted his head and glared at her hotly. "Try thinking about something else," she suggested.

"Like what?"

"The person you’d least like to, you know," she motioned her hand in the air, putting down her book. "Suppose that might work."

"Professor Snape?" Ron suggested helpfully. "Professor McGonagall?" he grinned. "Snape with McGonagall?"

"That depends," Harry almost smiled.

"On what?"

"Who’s on top?" Harry laughed. Ron pondered briefly.

"Well, that’s a good question," Ron agreed. "Any thoughts on the subject, Miss Know-It-All?" he asked Hermione. Granger gave him a withering look.

"Some day, I’m going to kill you, Ronald Weasley. I’m going to get a medal for it too," Hermione said acidly.

"Hey, Harry? How about Hermione with that expression? No man could possibly think about sex with that staring at him," Ron said.

"I wouldn’t go there. Remember, she’s a witch, and she can curse your sex drive," Harry warned him.

"What makes you think I haven’t already?" Hermione whispered wickedly, getting up from the table and leaving. Ron quickly picked up his books.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked.

"To bug her some more," Ron grinned.

The weeks before school had started, he and Professor Snape had met in the classroom or in the library to read, but clearly, with the student body back, if they wanted any privacy that was going to come to an end. He wondered if Snape was setting up the classroom for tomorrow’s class. Maybe he was even preparing for other lessons. The door opened as Harry approached.

"Come in. Watch where you step."

Snape’s voice indicated he might have been expecting Harry, which was odd, because Harry had wound up here by coincidence, hadn’t he? Harry’s suspicion was incorrect– Snape had a fencing diagram drawn on the board. The rapiers were glistening, silver cushioned on black, in the oblong box opened on the only remaining table in the room. Harry eyed them excitedly. Snape was preparing in case Harry did deserve fencing lessons?! But what had become of the chairs and potions paraphernalia that was usually here? He caught a shadow above his head and looked up. The tables and chairs were on the ceiling. With the chairs and tables gone, the thick layer of dust on the floor was very noticeable.

"Your house elf doesn’t like to sweep?" Harry asked. "Professor," Harry said, pointing upwards worriedly.

"Don’t be concerned. They aren’t coming down."

"Why are they up there?"

"I’m redecorating," Severus quipped. When he got down on all-fours and started moving forward in a straight line, Harry watched him, worried he had lost his mind.

"Are you looking for something?" the boy asked tentatively. Snape cast a glance back over one shoulder that made Harry squint. "Clearly, or you wouldn’t be crawling around. What are you searching for?"

"Someone, Mr. Potter, has let a dangerous creature loose in this room. I am searching for said creature. How curious that you would arrive on my doorstep at this particular moment."

"What kind of dangerous creature?" Harry asked, eyes intently on the floor.

"Do you know what a roving fancy is?"

"It’s when you do something unexpected of you, something you’d never normally do."

"Ah. I should have suspected you’d think of one in Muggle terms. No, Mr. Potter. Guess again. Unless you want to meet a roving fancy in person, I suggest you stand over there in that corner and hold very still. If you are calm, and think serious thoughts, it won’t detect you. Whatever you do, don’t sit down on the floor where it can reach your backside."

"My what??" Harry asked.

"Mr. Potter, quit asking questions and go stand over there," Snape scolded as he pointed to the corner nearest the door. Harry stood against the wall and watched his professor walking on his hands and knees. This might have been funny if it weren’t clear that Professor Snape was very worried. He paused now and again, bending further down to inspect what must have been tracks or traces in the layer of dust.

"Who put the roving fancy in here?" Harry asked.

"I was occupied, had my back to the door. By the time I turned around, they were gone."

"You had your back to the door?" Harry gasped. "That was unusually dense of you."

Snape’s look was reply enough. He unbuttoned one cuff and put his hand to the floor, closing his eyes. Was he trying to sense where the roving fancies were?

"Can I look at the rapiers?" Harry asked.

"If you must, yes, but disturb the dust as little as possible," Severus whispered. Harry edged closer to the rapiers and devoured their gleaming beauty. He didn’t notice Snape’s eyes travel over to him as he paced around the table, ogling the swords from every angle.

"I’ve been remiss," Snape said quietly.

"How is that?" Harry asked without looking back.

"It has occurred to me you don’t have a proper fencing suit. If you prove to me you’ve read the manual with more than a passing glance, I will remedy the situation before next week. Once I have tested you on the manual, I will expect action from you, Mr. Potter."

"I won’t disappoint you," Harry promised. Snape snorted quietly and continued his search. Harry reached out his fingers to caress one of the blades, and felt Snape standing at his back.

"No. Not yet, Mr. Potter," Severus whispered, keeping his hand on Harry’s arm. "In fact, you should probably not be standing near them. What if the fancy should bite you? You might do yourself harm."

"Where did you get them?" Harry asked.

"From my mother some years ago," Snape replied. "Get up on the table."

"What?" Harry whispered. Severus pointed to the table. Harry slid his backside up on the wood, and folded his legs up off the ground. Could the fancy get up his trouser legs?

"Stay right here, and keep still," Snape warned. Harry nodded.

"So, what was your mother like?" Harry wondered.

"She was the best and fairest creature to have tread upon this planet," Severus answered. Harry gaped at him. He’d never heard Snape talk about another living soul in such a reverent fashion.

"She was beautiful?" Harry asked.

"I thought so, yes, but I said fair, not beautiful. By most standards she could not be considered beautiful. She was well-read and intelligent, and possessed of a loving and forgiving nature."

"She was pretty on the inside, is that what you’re saying?"

"Mr. Potter, I do hope by the time you’re an adult, you will have learned to judge the fairer sex not by their exterior but by their interior."

Harry bristled hotly with shame. "I don’t judge women by their looks, if that’s what you’re implying."

"Of course you don’t," Severus challenged sarcastically. "I understand it’s hard to resist temptation when it practically lies down in your lap and begs to be petted, but you could be more....you could be more....impervious to her advances, couldn’t you, Potter? You were practically purring."

Harry gave him a very blank, confused look.

"Nevermind," Severus frowned. "She is the one I must hold accountable. You’re not the one to blame. Such foolishness can be forgiven in a child. We all begin by judging everyone by their exterior. I’m merely saying I hope you grow past that by the time you start considering marriage."

"That’s not going to be for some time," Harry blushed.

"There is a God after all," Snape quipped.

"Besides, you’re married."

"Yes, I am. But not for looks, I assure you, nor she either. But we’re not talking about me, Mr. Potter. We are talking about you and how you conduct yourself in the face of---"

"In the face of what?"

"How do you ever expect to be able to resist the temptations Voldemort will test you with if you can’t even keep yourself from letting someone paw at you like that? In public? In front of everyone!" Snape growled. He was working on another apoplectic fit, and stopped himself just in time. A light went off in Harry’s head. This was about Volkova, about this afternoon in the study room. Snape didn’t want Volkova touching Harry. He had to think about this for a minute or two. What part of the equation of Potter plus Volkova was getting so deep under Severus’s skin?

"Why did your mother give you the rapiers?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"In the hopes I would learn correctly to use them."

"Where did they come from?"

"A skilled blacksmith," Snape avoided the question. "Will you be still? I’m terribly busy at the moment."

Snape got up on the other side of the table from Harry, and took out his wand. He aimed it at the floor, and a cloud of greenish gas emitted from the tip. The gas pooled around the floor, covering the stones in a layer a foot thick. Harry gasped as he leapt to his feet, rocking the table violently.

"What the hell is that!?" Harry shouted, pointed over to the side of the room. A small figure about the size of a Cornish Pixie was waving its way through the gaseous fog, coughing and sneezing. Severus darted off the table. The little figure about ten inches tall raced frantically for the door.

"Oh no you don’t!" Snape hollered, shooting sparks that lit the figure in ill-colored light. Harry could make out small skinny legs and arms, and a knobby head with two horns. It might have had green skin. The door knob was turning even before the little figure reached the exit. It gave a high-pitched scream of terror and fled out into the corridor. "No! Damn! Damn it all! No!" Snape fussed.

Harry raced after Snape and collided with him at the door.

"It’s getting away!" Harry said excitedly, trying to urge Snape to follow.

"It’s no use. We’ll never be able to track it out there," Severus sighed, slamming the door. "You aren’t hurt, are you?" he asked, spinning around and taking Harry’s shoulders.

"No," Harry laughed. "Doesn’t look dangerous."

"This is serious, Mr. Potter," Snape muttered. "I want you to go straight to Headmaster Dumbledore and tell him...what am I saying? No. I can’t send you out there. What if you get bitten? You mustn’t go in the hallway until I know that thing is gone."

"What does a roving fancy do?" Harry asked.

Snape opened the door again and peered cautiously outside. Harry tried to look over his shoulder but couldn’t manage to get enough purchase to jump up without actually clinging to Snape’s back, something he was sure the Potions Master wasn’t going to allow. He heard a noise behind them and turned around. Snape turned with him.

"Mr. Potter, you are to stay here until I return. What is it?"

"I’m sure I just saw another one," Harry replied, squinting into the dissipating fog on the floor.

Snape swore under his breath. He picked Harry around the waist and hauled him over to the table. Harry would have never guessed Severus was that strong. It was so surprising to have someone grab him by the waist, let alone carry him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had carried him at all, except for Hagrid, who carried him like a duffel bag full of squirrels. Just as quickly as he had picked Harry up, Snape put him down on the table with a harsh thump. Severus closed the rapier box and sent it flying to the ceiling, where it stuck. He scrabbled up on the table beside Harry, folding up his legs in an identical fashion.

"What do we do now?" Harry asked.

"Where did you see it?" Severus asked, pointing his wand at the ground again. He increased the thickness of the spelled fog. Slowly, as the cloud tightened together, it was easy to make out several small, man-like forms moving towards the table.

"It’s time you told me what’s so bad about a roving fancy," Harry said quietly, trying not to panic.

"Oh, they’re not dangerous, Potter. They bite you, and you go insane."

"That’s bad," Harry nodded. "Can they climb?"

"Climb?"

Harry pointed to the ceiling.

"It’s not safe. What if the spell gives way? Stay on the table. I’m going for help. See if you can count how many there are," Snape said. He bolted off the table, and out the door. Biting back memories of Gilderoy Lockhart’s pixie incident, Harry started to count the tiny figures in the fog. They wanted to follow Severus but were confused in the cloud.

Harry was up to thirteen when the door opened again. A wave of water flooded the floor this time, followed by a spell that caused the water to freeze. Squeaky screaming filled the air from all corners as little green figures appeared for a second before poofing out of existence in a domino effect around the room.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked as he and Professor Snape entered the room, carefully stepping over the ice.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. "Did you get them all? I counted at least thirteen of them."

"Except the one that was in the hallway," Severus said. Dumbledore made the ice vanish with a quick swish of his wand. "Headmaster, we have to put out a search at once."

"Severus," Dumbledore chided, pulling Harry to the floor. Severus used his wand and landed the furniture with a wall-shaking thump. He caught the rapiers with his free hand, and cradled them close. "They’re roving fancies," Dumbledore laughed.

"Their bites cause madness," Snape protested.

"Madness? They cause a loss of self-control and the urge to do wild things. I’d hardly call that madness. I myself have survived attacks by roving fancies not once but twice," the Headmaster said.

"I rest my case," Snape retorted. He put down the rapiers, and tugged Harry off the table. He straightened Harry’s cloak and dusted off his shoulders. "I could have been injured. The boy could have been injured. What if the fancy gets into the dorms?"

"It might do you good to lose control every now and again, and do some wild things, Severus," Dumbledore grinned. "The boy is fine. You’re fine."

"The boy is going to go now," Harry said, smiling a bit.

"Good night, Harry," Dumbledore said, patting him on the arm.

"Whatever you do, make haste in that corridor," Snape cautioned. Harry nodded, closing the door behind himself. He waited long enough to hear Severus speaking to Dumbledore. "That woman did this, Albus. You know she did."

"You don’t have any proof of that, Severus. I want you to make nice with Professor Volkova. We are lucky to have her."

"My gut instinct is against her, Albus. She’s mad I’ve revealed her past, and she’s going to get me, exact her revenge for it."

"You know, at the risk of offending your gut instincts, I might suggest that the roving fancy got in here on its own, and merely multiplied over time. They’re attracted to repressed people, Severus, and of all the people I know, it’s neck and neck between you and Minerva for that particular award."

"Fourteen roving fancies don’t appear on their own," Snape howled. Harry decided then that he’d better get going. He headed straight to the library for a book on roving fancies.

"Oh Merlin. It’s contagious," Ron laughed. Hermione was sitting on the divan, surrounded by books. Ginny was seated on a nearby chair, her lap filled as well. The girls were conversing among themselves.

"Could she have been pulling your leg?" Ginny asked Hermione.

"I’m not sure. First I need to find out the original source of the rumor about her other school."

"But let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth. I mean, if she’s willing to talk to McGonagall about letting us wear trousers, I don’t care who she’s slept with," Ginny mused.

"Oh don’t you?" Hermione teased her. Ginny’s eyes flared for a moment, but both the girls went surprisingly quiet when Harry and Ron approached. Harry sat down on Hermione’s right, scooted her books over, and opened one of his own. Ron sat down on her left side and opened one of the tomes Harry had handed him. It was then he noticed the pile of books Hermione was reading.

"Why are you researching the Deusredeti?" Ron asked impatiently. "Trying to find more ways to suck up to Volkova, eh? Have you learned anything interesting so far?"

"Depends on what you mean by interesting," Hermione replied. "Why are you two reading about...." She cocked her head to the side and read the binding of the tome he was holding. "Roving fancies?"

"Professor Snape and I were nearly attacked by a pack of them," Harry answered.

"You were what? When?" Ginny asked. Ron and Hermione echoed her surprise.

"He was working in the Potions classroom with his back to the door. He didn’t see who, but I think he suspects Volkova slipped them inside. I was wandering around and popped in on him. I’ve never seen him that nervous, and I wanted to find out what they were, so I know how to get rid of them next time."

"You sound sure there will be a next time," Hermione decided.

"No, I want to be prepared is all," Harry assured her.

"They’re invisible, Harry. How do you know you both weren’t imagining things?" Hermione asked.

"Snape spelled a green fog over the floor, and you could see them moving around."

"What did they look like?" Ron wanted to know. Before Harry could answer, Hermione butted in.

"Nonsense. They’re only visible right before they bite," she said.

"Did you get bitten?" Ron asked excitedly.

"No. Snape put me up on a table. He and Dumbledore froze water on the floor, and that made the fancies visible right before they popped out of existence."

"That’s because they’re vulnerable to the cold," Hermione said.

"Snape suspects Volkova put the fancies in there?" Ron asked.

"Why would Professor Volkova slip roving fancies into Snape’s classroom?" Hermione asked.

"In case it slipped your notice, Hermione, those two don’t exactly get along," Ron said, grinning.

"Wonder what’s the matter between them," she murmured, turning back to her own book.

"I’ll bet he’s the one who started the rumors about Volkova," Ginny put in.

"I wouldn’t be surprised. You know how he takes to the people who get the Dark Arts position," Hermione pointed out. "He’s got a jealous streak, that one." Hermione yelped when Harry poked her leg. "What was that for?" she demanded.

"I’m getting in touch with my inner Slytherin," Harry replied. "Snape is trying to change his stripes. You don’t have to like him, but you could go easy on him."

Hermione raised her book and bashed Harry on the side of the head. Lucky for him, it was a thin book.

"Ow!"

"What do you know? I have an inner Slytherin too," Hermione muttered, going back to her reading. "He’s not changing his stripes. He’s molting into a larger snake."

"How easy is it to catch a roving fancy?" Ron asked as Harry continued to rub the side of his head.

"Not easy at all," Hermione replied. "According to one of the books I read, you have to lie down in an open pasture at twilight and think wild thoughts. They are attracted to the magnetic resonance that wild thoughts put off, apparently."

"Rubbish," Ron laughed.

"Professor Dumbledore said they’re attracted to repressed people," Harry said. They looked at Hermione simultaneously, and Ron laughed again.

"So all we have to do is stake Hermione out in an open pasture, and we’ll get all the roving fancies we want," Weasley laughed. Ginny and Harry chuckled, but quickly bit back their laughter when Hermione flared up angrily.

"Oh! I’m repressed, am I?"

"Now, Hermione, he’s teasing you. Learn to take a joke," Harry cautioned.

"Don’t you tell me how to take a joke!"

"Hermione," Ron whispered. "Calm down."

"That’s it. Leave," she told them, jumping off the couch and pointing away.

"What? It’s the Common Room. You can’t make us leave," Ron replied.

"Ginny and I were studying here first. You are interrupting with your puerile, juvenile nonsense. Now go, or I’m going to get Professor McGonagall."

"You leave her out of this," Ron howled back, jumping to his feet as well.

"We’re going," Harry said, tugging Ron by the arm.

"We are not," Ron protested. Harry continued to pull. Ron broke free and went back to square off with Hermione. Ginny collected her things and crept away snickering. Harry plodded up the stairs to the dorm room, and tossed himself on his bed, dropping his bag beside it. After kicking off his shoes and putting his glasses aside, Harry buried his face in his pillow. A small nap would be terrific. Let Hermione and Ron duke it out a couple minutes, and they would get over being angry. There was no point to standing there in the middle of it. He would probably get whacked with another book.

Harry jumped awake when he felt a hand touch his back. Although he’d felt like he’d slept no longer than a minute or two, it was already dark outside. He blinked and tried to gather his bearings.

"Harry," Ron prodded him. "Harry?"

"What?" Harry rolled over and searched for his glasses. They weren’t on the table where he left them.

"Come on," Ron urged, taking him by the arm. Harry gave up on his glasses and followed along, down into the now-empty Common Room.

"You didn’t get my message, did you?" Remus Lupin asked from the fireplace, smiling gently. Harry sat on the floor and rubbed his eyes. "I wanted to see you before I left. I’m sorry I woke you."

"Where are you going?" Harry worried.

"Order business. I should be back in two or three months."

"Where are you going?" Harry fretted.

"Can’t tell you that, lad. But I’ll write to you as often as I can. A letter a week. Will that suit you?"

"Oh yes," Harry nodded. Lupin extended a hand forward, but Harry was quicker. He dove into the fireplace, anticipating a big hug.

Harry heard a scream behind him. Someone threw their arms around his chest and yanked on him as he went to hug Lupin. For several seconds, Harry went through stages of being dimly asleep, being jolted by the quick arms and panicked scream, and then being consumed by searing pain before unconsciousness claimed him.

Potter jumped up in bed with a bellow.

"Shh. There now, child. You’ll wake the whole castle," Madam Pomfrey replied, continuing to smooth a sticky substance on his face. On the bed across from Harry, Ron was extending his forearms to Severus Snape, who was rubbing a similar substance on them. Ron stopped cringing away from Snape long enough to look over at Harry.

"Minerva! He’s awake!" Snape called. McGonagall came tearing around the corner of the screen, her arms filled with the roving fancy textbooks. Harry could feel every detail of Madam Pomfrey’s fingertips as she rubbed his brow ridge and forehead.

"Where’s Lupin?" Harry asked softly. Snape perked up and stared at Harry over one shoulder.

"Hush. Hold still," Pomfrey replied, touching his mouth. She dabbed the clear substance along his lips, and picked up his left hand. "Rub that in slowly. Then you have to keep your mouth shut for five minutes or so. Can you do that?"

Harry nodded, trying not to notice that his left hand was red and throbbing angrily. McGonagall dropped the books on the bed beside Ron, and rang her hands together nervously.

"Do you remember what happened?" she asked Harry, leaning closer. "Were you bitten? Have you examined him for bite marks?" she questioned Madam Pomfrey.

"I told you we needed to keep him more secure," Snape was muttering as he folded strips of cloth around Ron’s arms. "You don’t believe the boy intended to throw himself into the fireplace, do you? He wasn’t bitten this evening."

"But that fancy is loose in the school," McGonagall fretted.

"I warned the Headmaster but he wouldn’t listen to me," Snape growled.

"If you can’t do anything more constructive than snap at me, you can go back to your dungeon," McGonagall growled back at Snape. It looked as if she were considering giving him a quick kick with her sharp-toed shoes, but decided against it.

"I’m here to assist Madam Pomfrey," Severus said.

"If you’ve finished with Mr. Weasley, come help me with Mr. Potter," Pomfrey said. Snape stood up, gave McGonagall an arched brow for good measure, and sat down beside Harry. As Poppy rubbed the burn potion on Harry’s right arm, Severus tended to the left. "He’ll be fine, Minerva. Not to worry. I’ll wager the burns you got from that Hungarian Horntail hurt worse, didn’t they?"

"You dreamed you had a message through the Floo from Lupin?" Snape murmured. "Don’t talk. Nod yes or shake no."

Harry nodded yes. With Snape, it was business as usual. At least he wasn’t talking to Harry in that voice Pomfrey could sometimes use, that plural ‘we’ meaning singular ‘you’ voice.

"You’re nothing more than singed around the edges is all, and you’ve got Mr. Weasley to thank for pulling you back like he did," Pomfrey said, her voice rising happily. Harry smiled at Ron, and Weasley smiled back very faintly, but the worry was clear in his eyes.

"Your skin will be tight for a few hours. You should move as little as possible. Your eyebrows should grow back shortly. Your hair has never looked better," Snape decided. "Perhaps we should light you afire more often." Harry put a tentative hand upwards, and Snape pulled it back down. "You should move as little as possible. Which word in that sentence puzzles you, Potter?"

"Let them rest," McGonagall said. "A word outside, if you please," she added. Pomfrey helped Harry back into bed, dimming the lamp beside him. Ron lay down on his side and stared at Harry in the dark as the adults moved further away into the office outside the hospital ward.

"Thanks," Harry whispered, trying to be casual although he was cringing with embarrassment.

"Welcome," Ron replied. His voice was shaking. Harry felt his throat catch, and he swallowed.

"The truth is, I was dreaming about marshmallows," Harry whispered. Ron’s resulting laughter was choked with tears. Harry’s chest pulled tight. "Ron, it’s all right."

"No it’s not all right. You’re not supposed to move," Ron sniffed loudly.

"Can you hear what they’re saying?" Harry asked. Ron stayed quiet for a few seconds.

"Snape wants to put a shielding charm on you. McGonagall said that it would take too much strength to keep it up for very long. Snape said it was only a matter of time before Voldemort used Lupin as a lure for you, now that he’s done away with Black," Ron reported. "McGonagall is muttering at him. Snape’s not answering. McGonagall’s muttering some more. What are you doing?" Ron’s voice rose in alarm as Harry sat up and fumbled for shoes or slippers. Giving up, he hurried towards the end of the ward.

"Lupin!" Harry blurted.

"Harry!" Ron called, jumping out of bed as well. The door whipped open before Harry reached the handle, which was fortuitous, because he wasn’t sure he could find it in the dark without his glasses on. Snape peered down at him.

"What?"

"Where’s Lupin?" Harry asked anxiously.

"It’s four in the morning, Potter. Go to sleep."

"I want to know where Remus is," Harry tensed.

"I don’t know where he is. Go back to bed."

McGonagall opened the door wider, and took Harry’s arm.

"Remus was in Hogsmeade last night, wasn’t he?"

"Yes."

"We’ll owl him at once," she soothed. "And then you will go to sleep until we receive his reply."