"No," Harry answered sullenly.

"Want to study in the courtyard?" Ron suggested. "No one will see you there."

"It’s dark. How do you expect to read in the dark?" Hermione fussed. "What about the Common Room? We could go there."

"No," Harry growled.

The three Gryffindors were plodding through the corridors at nine at night two days after Harry had thrown down the gauntlet of challenge to Malfoy about procuring Volkova’s wand for him. Malfoy had yet to produce, and had even come back to Harry asking him to name another price. Harry had refused. Hermione and Ron would expected this would have pleased Harry immensely. Instead, Harry was in a particularly foul mood. Of course, there was no mystery as to why.

"Harry, you can’t hide away in your dorm forever," Hermione said.

"Oh, yes I can."

"You barely spent fifteen minutes at dinner," Ron complained.

"Harry," Hermione said, taking his arm and stopping him in the hallway. "Professor McGonagall did not mean to embarrass you."

"How could she not have known I’d be embarrassed?!" Harry shouted. Ron pulled back to a safe distance.

"She didn’t do it to purposefully embarrass you," Hermione explained.

"She used me and that bloody curse as a topic for class discussion!"

"It had everything to do with Transfigurations," Hermione reminded him. "Besides, it was very educational."

"She talked about what happened to my body! What happened to me! EDUCATIONAL!?" Harry shrieked. Hermione pulled back from him, clearly hurt by his tone.

"Harry," Ron soothed.

"She drew pictures on the chalkboard!" Harry bawled.

"They were stick figures, mate," Ron smiled.

"But everyone was looking at ME!"

"Harry," Hermione said, hoping to calm him. "It was an informative lesson on encapsulating transformation spells in everyday objects. It was very interesting. You’re the only one who wasn’t, forgive the expression, spell-bound. Even Crabbe and Goyle asked provocative questions."

Harry gave a half scream before he whirled away and stormed off in a furious huff. Hermione and Ron watched him, feeling totally helpless. Ron turned to Hermione, and she blinked at the floor.

"Don’t worry, 'Mione. He’ll get over it," Ron offered. "He gets moody this time of year."

"He’s been moody a lot lately, and mostly at us," Hermione said sadly.

"It’s almost Halloween again," Ron reminded her. "Terrible things have a way of springing on him this time of year. He’s pushing us away so we don’t get hurt, that’s what I think."

"We’re his friends," Hermione said, sounding small and hurt.

"He hasn’t heard from Lupin either," Ron added. "That’s also worrying him."

"Lupin is busy on a mission. He doesn’t have time for correspondence every day, no matter how much he’d like to write Harry," Hermione replied. "Let’s catch up with him before he locks himself somewhere and we can’t find him."

Meanwhile, two corridors away and counting, Harry was in the middle of finding a high corner of a distant tower to hole up in. He crossed a junction and found several perversely-dark hallways, and decided he was headed in the correct direction. He chose the hallway on the left, and promptly ran into a delay, or rather a delay ran into him. He landed on his backside in the hallway, seeing stars. When he caught his breath, he felt a small hand grasp his shirt.

"Hi, Malchik," he said. "Where’s the fire?"

Volkova’s house elf was pulling Harry to his feet. She was panting, her face bleached with fear.

"Up! Up!" she squeaked, casting a terrified glance back down the hallway behind her.

"What’s the rush?" Harry wondered. Malchik heaved him to his feet and pushed him back the way he had come. When the torches in that hallway went dead too, she started to panic. She walked backwards at a fast clip, and stopped at the junction. Digging into her cloak pocket, she threw several small glass shards to the floor. Holding her hand over one, she chanted magic under her breath. A blue wall sprang up between them and the corridor from which she had fled. Still panting, Malchik took Harry’s hand.

"I must find the Mistress," Malchik blurted. "Have you seen her?"

"She’s probably in her office," Harry offered. "I thought you were in Italy."

"No time! We must hurry!"

"Malchik, what’s the matter? AHHHH!" Harry screamed, falling back to his knees as an icicle of pain went through his head. He faltered, unable to rise. He gazed back at the barrier Malchik had erected. The pale man from the forest was standing there, trying to force his way through the house elf’s magic barrier. Using his hand as a ram, he focused his red-lighted magic forward at one point, and he was slowly bending a patch through the pale blue with crackles and jolts.

"Must get the Mistress! Must get the Mistress!" Malchik quivered.

"Malchik? What is he?" Harry asked as he pointed.

"ВАМПИР!" Malchik screamed. Harry didn’t need a translation. The Russian word was close enough for him to get it.

"Vampire?" he repeated. "Bloody hell."

"Master!" Malchik screamed, taking his arm and trying to pull him up. He covered his right eye with his hand and stumbled to his feet. Another stab of pain went through his head, and Harry went flat against the ground, moaning in pain. Ron and Hermione came around the corner, but Malchik was quicker. She threw down more blue shards, and another barrier sprang up, this time between Harry and his friends.

"Let us through!!" Ron yelled at Malchik.

"Get the Mistress! Bring her here! QUICKLY!!" Malchik commanded. Hermione took off but Ron stayed where he was. He took out his wand and tried to burn his way through the house elf’s magic from his end. Malchik drew a piece of blue chalk out of her pocket, and began to scribble runic letters on the floor in a circle around Harry. Out of one eye, Harry watched her. He had seen those letters before, but where??

"What are you doing?!" Ron shouted at her. "Let me through here!"

Down behind Harry and Malchik, the force field was bending, warping around itself. The man with red eyes wormed his way through the opening as if he were made of bendable rubber. Harry understood, even while hearing Ron have an absolute screaming panic attack on the other side of his barrier, that Malchik had blocked his friends out to protect them. The man with red eyes raced down the corridor, his attention fixed squarely on Harry. He was halfway to his destination when Malchik pushed Harry’s arm inside her circle and drew the last letter. Instantly, an orb of magic threw itself up around him, and Malchik fled in the other direction. Howling with fury, the creature reached after the house elf, and snatched her into the air. Malchik’s screaming filled the corridor.

"Open the circle," the man growled at her, holding her aloft by her hair. Malchik’s only response was more screaming and a punctuation of violent kicks and scratches aimed at the vampire. She dropped the chalk to the ground and the vampire stamped it into dust. "Open the circle, damn you," he cursed, his English traced heavily with a French accent.

"The Mistress will be here soon. She’ll stop you! She’ll kill you!" the house elf squeaked. The creature howled again, shaking her wildly.

"You let her alone!" Harry demanded, getting to his feet as best he could. "I said drop her! You heard me! Drop her!"

The mysterious circle expanded with Potter vertically, but not horizontally, which meant he could stand, but he could not lunge forward. Screaming was the only way he could force his presence towards the man, because he couldn’t get out of the circle physically. Unfortunately, the screaming was also making Harry’s head pound. The man threw Malchik roughly to the ground in a heap, and whirled on Harry. He traced his nails along the circle that protected the boy, and sparks glittered, giving off dim light.

"Tell Volkova I am here for her," the stranger said to Harry, gazing deeply into his face. Harry understood the vampire was trying to charisma him again, but somehow the spell wouldn’t penetrate Malchik’s magic. Harry made a mental note to thank her, and to ask her to teach him the runic spell.

"Why should I?" Harry retorted.

Looking terribly stunned to have someone talk back at him, the man wormed his way right against the circle, staring down into it as he licked his lips with a black tongue. Malchik groaned groggily and shuddered. Harry strained to see if she was hurt. From where he stood, he could tell she had a cut on her forehead, but she was alive.

"Such a spirit you have," the vampire chuckled. "I chased her all the way from Venice, knowing she would lead me to Volkova. She is only alive now because I needed her to guide me."

"Does it make you feel powerful? Picking on tiny little house elves?!" Harry growled angrily. The man glanced at the fallen house elf, and a sorrowful expression briefly took his eyes. "You better clear off before Professor Dumbledore turns on the hall lights," Harry warned him.

"Tell Volkova that Le Clair is here for her," the man repeated. "Tell her that if she surrenders to me, I will leave you unharmed."

"You want me?! Why don’t you get through here and get me? Eh? What’s the matter? A little bit of house elf magic too much for you??" Harry taunted.

"Harry, shut up," Ron gulped, terrified. Harry jolted backwards in surprise as the vampire rammed his hand through the shield. Ron screamed, and Harry went for his wand. Talon-like fingers reached for Harry, dripping blood from several cuts. The man laughed venomously as Harry shivered and dropped to his knees.

"LUMOS!" Harry shouted. The daylight-intense brightness from Harry’s wand filled the circle but remained inside the confines of Malchik's magic. The vampire’s hand began to smoke. He yanked it quickly out of the circle once more, favoring his wounds in the darkness outside Harry's protected space.

"Au revoir, petit chèr," the man chuckled, rubbing his smoldering limb. He bowed deeply to Harry before vanishing away into the corridor. It was as if he had never been there. Surely Harry hadn't imagined him. No. The expression on Ron's face confirmed that the vampire had not been a hallucination of Harry's wild imagination. Potter put away his wand with trembling hands.

A virtual stampede of feet came wheeling around the corners. Dumbledore appeared on Ron’s side of the barrier with McGonagall and Hermione in hot pursuit. Volkova and Snape were racing up the hallway on Harry’s side. Volkova disintegrated Malchik’s barrier with a flick of her wand by scattering the shards Malchik had strewn on the ground. Snape put both hands on the still-sizzling circle that enveloped Harry.

"Are you injured?" Severus heaved.

"No," Harry said. "But Malchik got tossed around. Can’t you help her? She’s hurt," he pleaded. Volkova knelt down and scooped Malchik up like a small child. The house elf began sobbing on Volkova’s shoulder. "You should have seen her. She was really something," Harry commended.

"My brave Malchik," Anna cooed softly. "Papa would be so proud of you," she whispered. Malchik sobbed louder in response.

"Did you see who it was?" Snape wanted to know.

"The one from the forest. He said his name was Le Clair," Harry replied, panting.

"You spoke with him?" Volkova was astonished.

"Spoke?" Ron called. "Harry was egging him on," he chided.

"What did he say?" Snape wanted to know.

"He said," Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm his heart. "He said to tell Professor Volkova that he is here for her. He followed Malchik all the way from Venice."

"He said if Professor Volkova surrenders to him, he’ll leave Harry alone," Ron told them. Harry shot him a dirty look. "That’s what he said, Harry," Ron added.

"Can you get me out of here?" Harry asked Snape, motioning to the circle. Snape made a face that indicated he hadn’t seen this type of magic before.

"It unlocks from the inside," Dumbledore said as he stepped through Ron’s barrier, pulling the magic shards up into his hand. The torches in the hallway grew intensely bright.

"What?" Harry said.

"Smear the letters, and you’ll be able to get through," Albus said.

"Oh, wait! Wait! Please," Snape pleaded. Harry paused, puzzled. Snape walked all the way around the circle once, and a second time. "All right. Go ahead," he nodded to Harry. Potter ran a hand along the chalk letters, and as his skin absorbed the dust, the barrier began to crumble. Snape put his fingers through the hole Harry had created, and smoothed more letters away. Little by little, they managed to free Harry from his safebox.

"So you’re going to surrender yourself to Le Clair as quickly as possible, aren’t you?" Ron pressured Volkova. She cradled Malchik against her chest, and nodded.

"Of course I am," she replied. Malchik wailed loudly.

"No, you are not," Dumbledore’s voice echoed in the hallway. "You and this Le Clair fellow are going to sit down and communicate like rational adults, and we’ll get to the bottom of this at once.

"It’s no use, sir," Volkova said. "I won’t endanger the students to protect myself." Snape rolled his eyes at her as Harry rubbed his blue-chalk covered hands together. Sparks glittered on the surface of his palms.

"I’ve seen those letters before," he whispered. Only Snape heard him. He stared down at his own hands, and back at Harry’s.

"A spell on the chalk? A spell or a potion? I don’t know. But I’d love to investigate further," Snape whispered.

"He stomped the chalk over there," Harry pointed. Snape’s eyes lit up happily, and he worked his way carefully that direction.

"Professor Volkova, you and I are going to go to my office and discuss this," Dumbledore said to Anna. "Professor McGonagall, you will escort your students back to Gryffindor Tower."

"Of course, Headmaster," Minerva replied. It was clear she had wanted something a bit more exciting to do than escort children around the school.

"In the meantime, Professor Snape is going to comb this wing of the castle and find out how Le Clair got through the wards."

"Understood, sir," Snape said, taking a peek at the pile of chalk dust. He put his foot over it and tried to look inconspicuous about it.

"When you find out how he did it, you will come report to me in my office."

"At once, sir," Severus agreed. McGonagall patted Harry on the arm, and tried to usher him away. He watched Malchik until Dumbledore and Volkova were out of sight.

"I’m sure Professor Volkova’s house elf will be fine," Minerva assured him. "The question is if you are all right."

"I’m light-headed, but I think that’s from having my scar go atomic on me several times." Harry rubbed his aching head.

"Yes. You've had a very exciting evening. Perhaps we should take you to Madam Pomfrey?"

"No!" Harry insisted, taking a step back from her. "Really. It’s a headache. I’ll be fine."

"I expect you’ll survive at least long enough to complete your Transfigurations homework," McGonagall nodded. Harry narrowed his eyes at her, and wondered if he had seen a smirk on her mouth, if only for a second or two.

"Professor, you would have been impressed with Malchik. We should make her an honorary Gryffindor," Harry suggested. This won a small smile from McGonagall. Hermione was grinning proudly at him.

"I’ll see what I can do," the Deputy Headmistress murmured tiredly.

"All Malchik did was scream really loudly," Ron sort of laughed, casting a nervous glance at Harry. Hermione immediately frowned at Ron, and he knew he’d stepped in it this time.

"She was braver than me," Harry said, "braver than a lot of people would have been. Le Clair had to work very hard to penetrate her shield magic," Harry added, amazed. "He worked his way through the barriers, but he hurt himself getting through the circle. He was trying to charisma me again. I mean, I know house elves have strong magic, but she didn’t need a wand. And those letters," Harry added, staring down at the blue chalk on his hands. He could mentally picture several of the runic letters in his head. "I know I’ve seen some of them before. I wonder what Snape will do when he figures them out."

"I’m impressed that Volkova taught Malchik how to read and write," Hermione said from up ahead on the stairs.

"Has it at all occurred to you two that she taught the house elf how to read and write and do magic vampires cannot penetrate because Malchik has helped her with her OTHER job?" Ron said crossly.

"I don’t care," Harry said. "She saved my life, and your life too. Or had you forgotten who put up that barrier between you and Le Clair?"

"I hadn’t forgotten," Ron said grimly.

"That’s enough bickering," McGonagall said. They entered the Gryffindor Common Room after passing through the Pink Lady’s painting portal.

"Professor, what do you think the Headmaster will do about Le Clair?" Hermione asked seriously.

"The Headmaster will do what he feels is best, I’m sure," McGonagall said to pacify Hermione as she ushered the children up the stairs towards their respective dorms.

"Good night," Harry murmured from the top of the overlook. McGonagall smiled faintly, waving them on towards their beds. Harry waited until he had heard the Pink Lady’s portrait close. He opened the door to the boys’ dorm, and found Hermione was waiting outside.

"Where’s Ron?" Hermione asked. Harry pointed over his shoulder into the boys’ dorm.

"He’s changing. Be out in a second."

"Newt?" Hermione asked after the door closed.

"Jackass," Harry gave a half-grin. Hermione stifled a giggle, and quickly slapped Harry’s arm. "Unfair. I apologize."

"He’s never going to change his mind about house elves as equals. There’s no point in trying to convince him at this late date," Hermione said.

"What did I miss?" Ron asked, opening the door.

"Nothing," Hermione lied. Harry disappeared inside to change. "At least he’s not yelling at us any longer," she added to Ron about Harry. Weasley nodded sideways. "What?"

"I dunno. He’s been too tense for it all to go away at once. We need to be careful with him."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Hermione quipped.

Harry returned, still dressed in his day clothes, and carrying a long cylindrical bundle wrapped in brown paper. He twirled it around his fingers carefully.

"What’s that?" Ron asked.

"Dunno. It was on my bed," Harry said.

"Is it a wand?" Hermione asked.

"Either that or Harry’s been getting mail catalogs from Adult Wiccan Wonders," Ron laughed. Harry quickly tore off the paper, and found Volkova’s heirloom wand in his hand.

"It’s THE wand!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Ohmygod," Ron stammered. "Malfoy did it."

"Unbelievable," Harry agreed. They all stared at it for a moment in awe. And the moment passed quicker than one might have thought.

"So now what?" Ron asked.

"Professor Volkova will be distracted for a few hours. We’ve got work to do," Harry announced.

"What are we doing, exactly?" Ron wanted to know.

"To begin with, I need a vial," Harry said, twisting down the cap of the wand.

"Shouldn’t we do this somewhere a bit more private?" Hermione suggested. Harry looked side to side, and nodded.

"Yeah, probably."

Minutes later, they were back down in the Common Room, in the darkest corner, huddled under a table. Draped over the table was Harry’s invisibility cloak. It was rather a tight squeeze for six long legs and two sets of broadening shoulders.

"Hold the vial steady. I don’t want to waste a drop," Harry said. Hermione leveled the glass objects together, and Harry tipped up. The greenish liquid splashed from the tip of Volkova’s wand into the waiting vessel. Hermione quickly capped her vial and stared at it in the dim light of the fireplace.

"Okay. We have the potion. What do we do with it?" Ron wanted to know.

"We get someone to test it and see if it is the Gallahad Elixir," Harry said simply. Hermione handed him the vial, and he secreted it inside his robe.

"Who might that someone be???" Ron asked. Harry and Hermione stared at him blandly. "You’re going to ask Snape to test it, aren’t you?"

"Yes. I am," Harry nodded. "He told me I could come to him if the situation warranted his attention. He is the Potions Master. This is a potion."

"Why do I ask these questions?" Ron wondered, throwing up his hands.

"What? You want me to ask Flitwick?" Harry grinned.

"How exactly are you going to explain the way you came by this?" Ron demanded.

"This may necessitate a drastic approach."

"That being?"

"If he asks, I’ll tell him the truth," Harry decided.

"What are you going to do with that?" Hermione asked. Harry leveled the wand on his hand and balanced it on his fingers.

"After I’m done finding out what I can find out, I’m going to slip it back into Volkova’s robes," Harry said.

"What? Excuse me!" Ron bellowed. "We’re going to give her back the empty wand, and she’s not going to ask us how we got it? Or where the potion went?"

"The idea is to give it back without her knowing we’re giving it back to her," Hermione said.

"How do we do that?" Ron said. "Ah! Shh! Feet!"

Small toes were visible outside their invisible covering. A soft giggle sounded. Harry bent down and to the side, and came nose to nose with Dobby.

"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Harry Potter," the house elf said, lifting the rim of the cloak only far enough to make out Harry’s face.

"Hi, Dobby," Harry smiled. "We were...um...we were...."

"Dobby couldn’t help but overhear, sir."

"How much did you overhear?"

"Quite a bit," Dobby admitted sheepishly.

Harry rolled out from under the cloak and spread it out on the floor, sitting on top of it. Ron and Hermione were cringing back under the table.

"The truth of it is, Dobby, we’re in a bit of a fix," Harry said. Ron and Hermione slowly pulled themselves out from under the table, and climbed into the chairs around it.

"Is there a way Dobby can help you, Harry Potter?" the house elf asked anxiously.

"Could you give this back to Professor Volkova in the morning?" Harry said casually, showing him the wand.

"Of course Dobby could," the house elf beamed.

"I found it on my bed," Harry quickly added.

"Dobby knows that, sir. He put it there."

"You put it there? Where did you get it?"

"From Little Master Malfoy. He didn’t even pinch me."

"Draco gave it to you?" Harry chuckled. "Too scared to give it to me himself?"

"He didn’t know the password to get through the portal," Dobby explained.

"That was nice of you, Dobby," Harry said, patting his arm.

"Dobby has to tell you, Harry Potter, that there’s talk among the kitchen elves about what happened tonight in Hogwarts."

"You heard, eh?"

"We didn’t need to hear. We felt it," Dobby insisted.

"Malchik’s not supposed to be doing magic?" Hermione asked.

"She can do magic." The house elf squirmed in his place. "Not so much though. Not in front of impressionable young wizards." Dobby smiled meekly at Harry.

Harry looked down at his hands, where the blue chalk still lingered. As he was staring at his hands, he caught sight of the edge of the invisibility cloak. Harry threw himself flat on the floor and gaped at the cloak, inside out on the stones.

"Malchik’s runes," he stammered.

"What’s that?" Ron asked.

"These are the runes that Malchik drew," Harry laughed, pointing around the circle of the hem of the cloak. Dobby stared down at the cloak and shook his head.

"She was writing in front of you? Oh no."

"That’s bad?" Harry asked.

"Oh," Dobby fretted, drawing out the syllable. "Dobby’s not saying, Harry Potter. But you mustn’t mention it to the other elves."

"I won’t say a word," Harry promised. "What are these runes? Do you know them, Dobby?"

"Oh, no," the house elf trembled. "Me, reading and writing? No. Not for Dobby, sir."

Harry tilted his head slightly to the side, and smiled at Dobby. He leaned forward and sniffed at Dobby as he drew the invisibility cloak up into his arms.

"Dobby, you’re fibbing."

"Me, sir? Dobby would never fib to you."

Harry sniffed again, and smiled more widely. Dobby gingerly pushed him back.

"All right. You don’t have to tell me. That’s all right. But if you happen to see a book in the library with a translation for these runes, you could direct me to it, couldn’t you? Or you could direct Hermione?" Harry said hopefully.

"I dare say, if it’s in the library, she’s already seen it," Ron interjected. Harry handed Hermione the invisibility cloak.

"Dobby could bring you a book, sir."

"Bring it to me instead, please," Hermione said, folding the cloak neatly in upon itself.

"You’re a prince among house elves, Dobby," Harry said. "If you ever need anything, you can ask me for favors too, you know."

"Well, there is one thing, sir," Dobby began, then shook his head.

"Yes? What? Anything," Harry insisted.

"Dobby heard what you said to Professor McGonagall about making Malchik an honorary Gryffindor."

"You overheard that?"

"We are the eyes and ears of the castle, Mr. Harry Potter," Dobby said as he bowed humbly.

"And?" Harry asked.

"Dobby was going to suggest, sir, that one of your ties might be seen as a sensible gesture."

Harry reached up and loosened the knot, pulling the scarlet and gold tie off over his head.

"You’ll see Malchik gets it?"

"She’ll have it right away," Dobby promised. He held out his fingers, and Dobby quickly snatched up the offering.

"Have you talked to Malchik privately at all?" Harry asked.

"When she comes to the kitchens with food requests for her Mistress," Dobby nodded. "She’s very nervous, but that’s not uncommon among house elves, sir."

"How do you think Professor Volkova treats her?"

"Very well, sir. I’ve seen the Professor’s rooms," Dobby said. Harry frowned in puzzlement. "Everything the Mistress has, she sees that her house elf has. Books and clothes and all kinds of finery. Magic things as well. She’s got a trunk full of them. An elf-sized trunk. You cannot repeat this, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, of course, I understand," Harry nodded. "I don’t want to get Malchik in trouble. She saved my life, you know. You and she have a lot in common."

"Yes, I guess we do," Dobby smiled back.

"You’re not going to bawl her out for writing in front of me, are you?"

"Never, sir."

Dobby quickly fled before Harry could say anything else. Harry watched him go, and turned when Ron cleared his throat.

"Not to interrupt, but I think you should know."

"What?" Harry asked.

"We could be walking into a trap," Ron said.

"How do you figure?"

"What if Draco didn’t take the wand from Volkova, but she gave it to him to give to you, knowing you would want to sample the potion inside it?" Ron said.

"That’s a possibility," Harry admitted.

"What if she fixed it to blow up on whoever tries to tamper with it?" Hermione said.

"I’ll tell Professor Snape to be very careful when he’s handling it."

"Are you going to take it to him now?" Ron asked.

"No," Harry replied, climbing up off the cold floor and into the cushions of the nearest couch. "I’m going to go to bed now. I’ll give Snape the potion in the morning."

"You’re going to sleep right there?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe," Harry said, rolling onto his back and tossing his limbs out in all directions.

"You know that problem you’ve been having with couches and lockets?" Ron said.

"Yeah?" Harry mumbled.

"Maybe that couch isn’t such a good place to nap," Hermione said bluntly. Harry sat quickly upright.

"Why would that be?" he asked devilishly. He ran a hand over the middle cushion, closing his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, extremely nervous.

"Nothing," Harry said, a half-smile playing with his face.

"Harry, stop it," Ron said.

"What? I’m not doing anything," Harry protested. Ron took his arm and pulled him off the couch. "Spoil sport," Harry grumbled.

"You’re going to sleep with Draco’s glove, right?" Hermione said, following the boys upstairs once more. "Volkova’s wand can wait until tomorrow morning before breakfast. We need to learn all we can from Draco’s glove tonight."

"It’s not Draco’s glove. It’s Lucius’s glove. Otherwise, what would be the point? We know where Draco is, don’t we? Well?" Ron corrected her. After all, how often did he get the chance??

"More’s the pity we can’t lose them both," Harry said sleepily as he handed Volkova’s wand to Hermione. "Put that in a safe place, will you please?"

"We need to find Lucius before he comes to harm," Hermione said.

"I dunno. It’s Lucius Malfoy. He could do with a bit of harming," Ron put in.

***

"Harry, are you asleep yet?" Ron whispered. Harry was balled up under the covers with Malfoy’s glove on his hand, wishing desperately for more privacy than the dorm rooms allowed. He was wide awake because all he could think about was how good this glove would feel if he rubbed it over various parts of his anatomy. The sound of Ron’s voice reminded him of exactly how un-alone he was.

"No," Harry answered softly. The patter of bare feet and the swish of curtains told him he was about to have company. Ron pushed his way onto the left side of Harry’s bed, under the covers, directly against his back. After several seconds of uncomfortable quiet, Harry cleared his throat and asked, "Ron? Is there a reason for this moment of togetherness?"

"Are you having any luck with the glove?" Ron asked.

"No," Harry told him.

"Can’t sleep?"

"No."

"Too nervous because of last time?"

"Partly," Harry lied.

"I can’t sleep either."

"And now, we’re not sleeping together, even though we’re in the same bed," Harry said. Ron laughed quietly, and the touch of his breath down Harry’s neck was making the problem in Harry’s shorts only increase.

"Harry, there’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about for the longest time," Ron murmured. Harry hoped the extreme darkness covered the fact he was just this side of smacking his dearest friend and pushing him out of the bed onto the cold floor. Harry gritted his teeth, and swallowed his anger.

"No time like the present."

"I guess you’ve noticed that Hermione and I haven’t been getting along, and wondered why."

"I noticed," Harry said grimly. "But I haven’t wondered."

"I haven’t been completely honest with you about last summer."

"Ron?"

"Yes?"

"Are you about to tell me you slept with Hermione?"

"You are psychic!" Ron exclaimed as loudly as one can in a whisper.

"I’m not psychic," Harry said, exasperated.

"How did you know? Neither of us told anyone. We were too afraid."

"I guessed when you both knew the answer to my ‘do you lose your magic if you’re not a virgin’ question. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to do the math on that one."

"Oh," Ron said. He was quiet for several seconds. Harry hoped against hope he had fallen asleep. No such luck. "Harry, the truth is, it was terribly unpleasant for both of us."

"That’s lovely," Harry muttered.

"What I’m saying is, if you’re mad about her and me, you’re not missing anything."

"Ron?"

"What?"

"That’s very nice of you to say, but I’m not interested in Hermione."

"You don’t have to be so sharp. I’m trying to make you feel better."

"Do you really want to make me feel better?"

"Of course I do."

"Stop breathing on my neck like that. I’m going to spunk on the sheets."

Ron squelched a laugh in the pillow, and pulled a few inches away from Harry’s neck.

"Why was it horrible?" Harry hated himself for asking, but he did want to know.

"Why do you think?" Ron replied.

"I dunno. That’s why I’m asking."

"She was being Hermione, that’s why. ‘Not there, there.’ ‘Don’t do that. Do this.’ I showed up at her parents’ house while they were out having dinner and she was home. I was thinking we’d be having a romantic date in. She was all prepared. She had written notes and diagrams and...are you laughing over there?"

"No," Harry squeaked, holding his breath.

"I can feel the bed shaking, Harry. You’d better be laughing."

"I’m laughing," Harry admitted. Ron slapped his shoulder roughly.

"I felt like a new broom she was taking for a test drive," Weasley complained. "The whole evening was horribly, utterly wrong. We parted without even a proper goodbye, long before her parents got back. Then the first thing she tells me when we’re all back at Hogwarts is that she went out to dinner with Oliver Wood? What was I supposed to think?"

"Did she take Oliver for a test drive too?" Harry asked. The accompanying mental images weren’t half bad, at least the part about Oliver. Now Harry started to worry. "Ron, what made you believe Hermione was going to be different in bed than she is out of bed?"

"I dunno. I thought she’d be softer, that’s all."

"You can be just friends with her, you know."

"What?"

"You don’t have to date. You don’t have to sleep together. You can be friends with Hermione, and it would be all right," Harry said.

"What would be the point of that?"

"Strictly from my point of view, it might be the healthiest thing for both of you to see other people and forget about dating each other. You and she aren’t going to work as a couple, unless you want to spend the rest of your life being ordered around."

"She might soften around the edges as the years wear on."

"Ron, you know how much I love Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

"I would never, not in a million years, date Hermione. Nor she me."

"No?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Ohbelievemepositive," Harry blurted. Ron was quiet again. Harry had his fingers crossed, but his luck didn’t pan out.

"Your turn."

"My turn what?" Harry gulped.

"I told you something horribly, painfully personal. You have to share now."

"Ron, I don’t want to do this."

"Come on. Out with it. Tell me your darkest dirtiest secret. I won’t be offended if it involves Professor Volkova in many and varying positions."

"Ron, I don’t want to do this, honestly."

"You’re afraid you’ll shock me. Don’t be afraid. I don’t shock easily."

"Ron, quit poking me in the back."

"Harry Potter, tell me your deepest darkest secret," Ron persuaded.

"Are you sure?"

"Go on. Scare me."

"I....I...."

"Harry, don’t be shy," Ron laughed, tracing his neck with one finger.

"Ron, what if Draco’s right?"

"Right about what?"

"What if I am a double agent?"

"You mean against Voldemort? I’d say next to impossible, as you’re the focus of his evil murderous schemes. Sorta defeats the purpose, don’t you find?"

"Um, no, not against Voldemort."

Ron got quiet again, and Harry started to worry he shouldn’t have said anything.

"Well," Ron said slowly. "This means I’m not undressing in front of you anymore." Weasley squelched another giggle in the pillow, and Harry relaxed slightly. "Harry, don’t worry. Everyone goes through that stage where they wonder about that."

"You did?"

"Course I did."

"I never noticed you staring at my butt or anything. What happened?"

"I dreamed about Neville, and nearly laughed myself to death at the idea of it, and decided it wasn’t for me. I swear to Merlin I’ll kill you if you tell Neville I said that."

"Neville?" Harry snorted. "God, and I thought the mental image of you and Hermione was going to scar me for life."

"Sod off," Ron grumbled.

"Neville’s a great bloke, but I’ve never considered him in quite that way."

"I should have never told you," Ron decided.

"I’ve got nothing to worry about then?"

"No."

"What if I am a double agent?"

"You’ve still got nothing to worry about," Ron assured him. Harry relaxed a little more. "Harry, you aren’t going to tell Neville, are you?"

"No," Harry squeaked. "Go back to bed," he added quietly.

"You want me to sleep with you?"

"Ron, I’m fond of you, but somehow I don’t think that would be any more fun than you and Hermione."

"I meant I could stay here while you sleep, make sure you don’t sprout boobs or anything."

"No. But thanks for the offer."

"Not a word to Neville."

"I’ve already forgotten what you said," Harry promised.

Harry jumped at the sound of the voice much too loud to be in the library as they were hushed on all sides by Mrs. Pince and several studying students. In the process of jumping up, Harry lost his grip on the book that had been in his lap, dropped his quill, upset his ink well down his pant leg, and not to mention that, loosened a sheaf of parchment upon the floor. Cursing to himself, Harry knelt down to retrieve his book and parchments, realizing suddenly that there were large black shoes standing under the sheets of paper. He followed the toes up to the legs and so on, and at the exact top of the black-clad figure, he found a frowning Potions Master. It was the same Potions Master he had spent the last few hours of the night dreaming about being locked in the Slytherin bathroom with– the very Potions Master who, in the guise of a younger self, had done things to Harry that not even the most creative of dirty minds could have considered possible, let alone the supremely-creative but only-marginally-dirty mind Harry possessed. The idea of what he had dreamed coursed through Harry, and it made him hungry and embarrassed at once.

After several seconds of silence from a young man who usually couldn’t shut his trap, Snape was wondering many things at this point, but foremost of which was what was causing Potter to blink up at him with those great big eyes of his.

"Potter?" he grumbled.

"Yes, sir?"

"What were you so entranced with?" Snape asked, using his wand to make the ink stain on Harry’s leg vanish. Severus scooped up the book out of Harry’s hand. "Hmmm. Dream symbolism. Why not go rattle Trelawney’s cage if you want a dream interpreted? That is why we keep her around, isn’t it?"

Harry ducked, shaking his head as he went pink.

"Too personal," he whispered, taking the book back from Snape’s extended hand.

"Why weren’t you in Potions class this morning? Mr. Weasley told me you were ill with a headache."

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled, eyes on the floor. At least Ron hadn’t told Snape how Harry got the headache– from falling out of bed, all tangled in his covers, feeling stickier than the floor of Honeyduke’s after the Saturday afternoon rush.

"Is your headache gone, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes."

"Why was Mr. Weasley grinning at me all morning?"

"I don’t know, sir." Another falsehood. Harry had been moaning Snape’s name when he awoke, and Ron hadn’t stopped laughing about it yet, he imagined. ‘Sev, Sev, Sev,’ Ron had teased while getting ready for class. 'I have to get me a couch like that.' Harry had sat slumped in his chair, hiding his face, and wishing to all the gods he hadn’t mentioned that double agent nonsense to Ron.

"Why aren’t you in your afternoon class?" Snape wanted to know.

"Professor McGonagall reduced my schedule. Took me out of Muggle Studies."

"You’re free at the moment?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Snape smiled slowly, and Harry found that rather unnerving. "I have a task for you. It’s been on the Odd Jobs Board for two days, but no one has bitten the offer. Not even the usual obsequious Slytherins. I surmised today that you were the perfect person for the job. It’s worth twenty points, or one dose of a potion of your choice."

The mention of potion made Harry remember the vial he was carrying in his trouser pocket, and the fact that he wanted to give it to Snape. He reached into his pocket and fingered the vial.

"Why approach me about an odd job? Because I’m odd?"

"No. It involves getting something out of a high, tight space into which I cannot fit myself."

"Why am I perfect for it?" Harry wanted to know.

"Because you are high and tight," Severus made the mistake of saying. Harry went scarlet as Gryffindor Quidditch robes. When the studying students and Mrs. Pince gaped at them, Snape realized his mistake. He became fiercely angry, mostly with himself. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Potter. What I need is someone lithe, thin, and easy to lift. I suspect because you are underfed and shaped like a rail, you will be light enough you won’t throw my back out of place. Come with me. It’s easier if I show you."

Harry began to gather his things, but Snape took out his wand. The parchment, ink, and quill vanished into thin air.

"Don’t worry. They’re on your bed," Snape said, putting away his wand.

Harry put the dream interpretation book back on the shelf, giving Snape a nervous, sideways glance before following the professor out of the library. He followed Severus through several corridors, pondering whether or not he should tell him about at least part of last night’s dream. Not about the sex on the bathroom floor part. No, definitely not that. But at least Snape should know about the part where Draco and Volkova were boffing like bunnies outside the bathroom door. Harry was certain he had heard them. He had even peeked under the door to make sure of who it was.

‘Sir, I believe Professor Volkova is being indecent with Draco Malfoy,’ Harry tested out the words, and decided it was wiser if he didn’t even open his mouth. He’d only get himself into trouble. He just knew it. The terrifying side-effects from the locket, coupled with the dubious pleasures the glove had produced, had left Harry too completely terrified of what Volkova’s wand might reveal to him. He took it back from Hermione, and gave it to Dobby to return without having squeaked any information from it. Hermione had also given him back his invisibility cloak, having copied all the necessary runes into one of her many books of notes.

Snape led Harry up the stairs now, to the top floor of a tower at the back of the castle that was hardly ever in use. In fact, Harry couldn’t remember ever being assigned a class in this tower. He peered out a window as they passed it. The view included the top of Hagrid’s hut and part of the Dark Forest. Severus went to the end of a vaguely-lit corridor, put his back to the wall, and pointed up. Harry fixed his gaze into the open-air garret ceiling.

"It’s a small, silver-gray object about the size of the palm of your hand," Snape said.

"I see it. Why not ‘accio’ it to yourself?" Harry wondered.

"It’s a charm repeller, Potter," Snape said slowly, waiting for the boy to understand.

"Oh," Harry said finally. "Fancy that."

"Oh, fancy that," Snape mocked in his nasal tone. Harry found a half-smile, amused by the sound. "It was one of the safety measures Dumbledore gave me to protect my office. However, having encountered a charmed object or person in my office, the repeller fled here."

"I'd've thought your office was filled with charmed things-- magic items and stuff," Harry shrugged.

"My office is filled with potion ingredients, vials, student lab assignments."

"Maybe your couch scared it?" Harry offered. Severus made a face at him, and Harry quickly lowered his eyes.

"It wasn't the couch," Snape said simply.

"The repeller broke out of your office to escape a charm? Does that mean someone might have booby-trapped your office?"

"Such a clever boy," Snape smiled darkly.

"I see your dilemma, but how do I fit into this?" Harry asked. "You want me to climb the wall?"

"No. You cannot use magic to retrieve a charm repeller once it is activated. If you climb the wall using magic, your spell will disintegrate as you get nearer to the charm repeller. You will fall," Severus pointed over the railing and down into the corridor below. "Break several bones, probably die screaming and bleeding, and I will somehow be blamed for it."

"Yes, somehow. What about using a broom?"

"Harry, what makes your broom fly?" Severus asked, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Potter a mocking look.

"Magic."

"Mmmm hmmmm," Snape nodded.

"Suppose brooms are out too. So how do we get it down?"

"I’m going to lift you up, and you’re going to put out your hand, and you’re going to say one word. That word will temporarily distract the charm repeller, it will lose its grip on the ceiling, and it will fall into your hand."

"What is that word?"

Snape gave him a small piece of paper. Harry opened his mouth to say the word, and Severus clamped both hands around his face.

"If you say the word before you’re in range, it will drop out of sight. It will go find another very tall tower, probably one without a perch from which I can hope reach it."

Harry nodded, and Severus let go of his face and the back of his neck.

"This isn’t a magic word," Harry pointed out.

"No, it isn’t," Severus replied crisply.

"Oh, I get it," Harry said, feeling very dim, especially because Snape was smiling at him with wicked dark amusement glittering in his eyes.

"There’s hope for you yet," Severus murmured. "Take off your shoes. Take off your robe. Think light thoughts."

"You’re going to lift me up there?" Harry said skeptically. He unbuttoned his robe, feeling Severus’s eyes on him as he traced the edges slowly. This wasn’t exactly unlike how the dream last night started, but Harry knew that it would never remotely pass into reality. It had been a fantasy, nothing more.

"Do hurry up, Potter. This isn’t a strip-tease. Take off your wand as well," Severus told him.

"You aren’t going to do anything funny, are you?" Harry asked, putting his robe on the floor and putting his wand in his robe.

"Humor is the furthest thing from my mind at the moment, Harry. Do you have anything on your person that is in the least bit charmed or magicked or otherwise? Think hard. I want you demagicked before I lift you up there. Because if I lift you up there and whatever you are carrying or wearing frightens the charm repeller, it’s going to flee, and I’m going to be angry with you. Very angry," Snape emphasized.

"I do have a vial in my pocket."

"What does the vial contain?" Harry fished out the small glass cylinder and handed it to Snape. Severus held the vial up to the light. "Do I at least get a hint?"

Harry shook his head no. "It’s best you don’t ask how I came by that."

"Why not?"

"Cause I’d have to tell you, and it would have to be the truth, wouldn’t it?"

"I see. Can I venture a guess as to the origin of this potion?"

"Nope. You best not," Harry warned. Snape turned to him, studying him carefully.

"How did you get the wand away from her?" He jumped right to the point.

"I didn’t," Harry answered truthfully.

"How did you get it back to her? That’s a better question."

"I didn’t do that either."

"But here you have what I’ve been trying to get my hands on for weeks, and no explanation offered? Hmm? What am I to make of this, Mr. Potter?"

"Whatever you like, I suppose."

"Are you trying to pull one over on me, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir."

"Mmm hmm," Snape hummed skeptically.

"Honestly, sir. But Ron and Hermione both speculated that there could be hazards involved with testing that, and so at the risk of sounding like Professor Dumbledore, I strongly recommend caution."

"I’ll wear my heavy dragon-hide gloves," Snape nodded. "Now," he purred, putting the potion on Harry’s cloak on the floor. "Now to business. Tell me about your shoes. Any spells?"

"No," Harry said, discarding them aside.

"Socks?"

"No."

"Trousers?"

"Perfectly ordinary."

"Shirt?"

"Standard."

"Quills, candy papers, gum, knick-knacks, doodads, what-nots in your pockets?"

Harry emptied out his pockets’ contents onto the robe, and they landed in various formations next to his wand. Severus paced next to the railing, keeping an eye on the repeller, ignoring whatever Harry pulled out of his pants.

"Where were we? Undershirt? Undershorts?" Snape commanded.

"What sort of idiot hides magic items in his shorts?" Harry fussed.

"You might be surprised. Your tie? Is it at all charmed?"

"Yes. Hermione put a spell on it to keep it neatly knotted."

"Off with it," Snape said. Harry quickly tugged off his tie and put it on the pile. "Anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Cologne? Soap? Shampoo? Toothpaste?"

"No. Perfectly ordinary stuff, sir."

"Lucky charms? Rabbit’s feet? Four-leaf clovers?"

"Honestly," Harry laughed.

"Your glasses. When was the last time you spelled them for breaks or cracks?"

"Over the summer, probably."

"Can’t be too careful. Put them on the pile as well."

"I can’t see without them."

"You won’t have to see. All you’ll have to do is open your hand, say the word on that sheet of paper, and the repeller will fall at you."

"What about my scar?"

"Oh, damn," Snape hissed. "I forgot."

"You forgot about my scar?" Harry was shocked.

"Maybe it won’t be a problem." Severus was clearly being going for the optimistic approach.

"Yeah, right," Harry smirked.

"We can’t very well remove your scar, can we? We could cover it," he decided, lifting one of Harry’s hands and putting it over his forehead. "Um, no. You need both arms for balance. We’ll hope for the best."

"Is the scar itself cursed, or is it only the lasting impression of a curse?" Harry wanted to know. Snape blinked at him in annoyance.

"Don’t go Zen on me. I’m in no mood," Snape warned. "Maybe if we’re quick enough, the repeller won’t see your scar. Let’s get this over with as quickly as possible," Snape said, putting his robe down on top of Harry’s pile of things. "I expect as a Quidditch player, you’ll have more than a fair sense of balance?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded. Snape knelt down and put his hands forward in a sling. Harry put his socked foot into the hands, and waited as the Potions Master slowly and carefully raised him from the ground. Harry wavered and doubled over, then balanced himself by putting his arms around Snape's neck. Severus growled at him, and Harry quickly let go. Snape pulled Harry into a straight line again and pushed him upwards. Harry's knees bent, and he collapsed against Severus for support. His knees collided sharply with Snape's shoulders. He felt hot breath against one of his thighs, and jolted into a standing position, fingers clutching dark, lank hair.

"Put your feet on my shoulders," Snape commanded. Harry followed directions, and before long, he was facing the stone wall, standing on Snape’s broad shoulders. When Harry and Severus were added together, Harry was within a mere three feet of the garret ceiling. The charm repeller was trembling in the highest peak, nestled back tightly into its niche.

"Professor Snape, it knows I’m here," Harry warned.

"Put out your hand," Snape grunted.

"I am."

"Say the word," he added impatiently.

"Apple," Harry murmured. The repeller fell at him, missed his fingers, and beaned him right on his scar. Harry heard a garbled curse from down below as he rocked quickly forward and fell backwards. He felt a rush of hands go up his legs, across his backside, and up his back before he found himself on the ground on his backside. Snape was kneeling before Harry, holding his lower back with both hands and glaring meanly at Potter. It seemed as if in the effort to land Harry lightly, the Potions Master had twisted his back quite painfully.

"You missed it!" Snape accused, as he got carefully to his feet.

"Oh, well spotted," Harry snapped back, holding his throbbing face. "Where’d it go?" he asked.

"Hold very still," Snape gasped excitedly.

"What?"

"It’s in your pocket. No! Don’t move."

"How do you know?" Harry asked, moving his hands aside and peering down. Indeed, there was a small lump on his chest where there hadn't been one before. Snape shoved his fingers deep into the confines of Harry’s shirt pocket and snatched the charm repeller out into the light. He kept a very tight grip on the trembling, fighting mass as he pulled his hand free. Harry quickly retrieved his glasses, and tried to get a better look through Snape’s tight fingers. He was rather disappointed because it seemed to be an ordinary stone to him.

"Very well done, Potter. What will it be? Twenty points, or one dose of the potion of your choice? Ah, there is a small caveat about the potion, if that is your preferred method of payment."

"What’s that?"

"A caveat. A warning. Don’t they teach you children Latin in grammar school any more?"

"I know what a caveat is. I wanted to know what your caveat WAS."

"The potion is limited to one you will use on yourself."

"Do I have to decide right here and now?"

"No. Mull it over. Twenty points here or there could raise your average. You never know."

"What are you going to do with the repeller ?" Harry asked, putting his shoes back on and picking up his robe. Small items from his pockets went everywhere in the hallway, including one beautiful velvet glove. Severus stopped in his tracks, holding both hands around the lump.

"Where did you get that?" he asked.

"What?"

"The glove. From Draco?" Snape asked. Harry picked up the glove and shoved it back in his pocket, very embarrassed.

"Yes," he said.

"Only one?" Severus wondered.

"He has the other. The idea was that if the pair were cursed, we’d both be affected."

"That’s what he gave you this time to hone in on Lucius?"

"Yes."

"You were in the dream interpretation book trying to figure out what your dream was about, the one you had while holding this glove," Snape understood.

"Yes," Harry said meekly.

"What did you see?"

"No comment," Harry mumbled.

"Something very personal, too personal to share with Trelawney."

"Quite personal, yes."

"May I guess what you saw, and will you tell me if I am correct?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, noticing for the first time how very pale Severus looked. Snape lowered his voice as he spoke, stepping closer to Harry. No doubt about it, Snape was choosing his words carefully.

"You got rather a different view of a bathroom floor."

"Oh, Merlin," Harry gulped, pulling his tie back on.

"Several different views."

"How did you know?"

"I was there, remember?"

Snape paced back and forth, holding the repeller as he tried to decide what else to say. Harry decided to keep his mouth shut and wait. It took Snape a full two minutes to find his voice.

"What you dreamed about, that was a long time ago, Harry, and not an incident by which you should judge me too harshly. Nor Lucius either one for that matter."

"You and Lucius?" Harry puzzled.

"It was once, and never again," Snape added, anxious to be understood. Harry gave a relieved sigh and covered his mouth with his hand. "It was once. I was young and stupidly infatuated. Why are you giggling?" he glared hotly.

"You don’t have to explain," Harry insisted. "I didn’t know you went in for the tall, blond type."

"It’s not something I advertise, Mr. Potter. I don’t throw myself at every gorgeous man that catches my eye. Not even all men are attractive. But some men hold a certain appeal for me."

"You don’t have to explain, please," Harry said. "I don’t care. I mean, do whatever makes me happy. YOU happy. You happy," he corrected.

"Some in the wizarding world don’t share such an open-minded view. Why did you laugh?"

"I laughed because I got it all wrong. I thought I was having another fantasy about you," Harry squeaked, blushing and laughing at the same time. "But it was you and Lucius, and I was Lucius, and it’s okay. I get it. Okay...whew. That’s such a relief."

Snape blinked at Harry, clearly wondering about the risks of beaning him with the repeller a second time. But realization peeked through his dark countenance. Another fantasy? That would seem to indicate Harry had had others. What had the boy seen while sitting on that couch??

"You didn’t find the experience unpleasant?" Snape tested. Because ten minutes on that couch had had the boy sobbing, Severus had to question what had been so different about what he had seen while holding Lucius's glove.

"No," Harry admitted softly, lifting his chin to be able to look Severus in the eyes. "The floor was cold, but everything else was nice."

"Nice?" Snape frowned. "Nice? What an ineffective, stupid word. Nice how?"

"Warm and sticky nice," Harry whispered, feeling like his brain had melted a little. He couldn’t believe he was telling Snape this. But Severus stopped being angry very quickly. One brow went up. He was clearly intrigued. He leaned down to whisper, not wanting to be overheard.

"Warm and sticky?" he repeated. "How interesting. I would like, if I may," Snape began.

"Yes, sir?"

"I would like to see what you dreamed."

"But you can’t do a Legilimens spell while holding the charm repeller," Harry reminded him.

"I know," Severus whispered. "Come to my office."

"You want to see what Lucius was thinking? You aren't going to make me sit on that love-divan of yours again, are you??"

"No," Severus lied. He was actually more interested in seeing what Harry had determined was ‘warm and sticky’ nice. Anything else he learned might be just gravy.

"No, perhaps you shouldn’t. What if you don’t like what you see?" Harry decided. Maybe he suspected what Snape’s real motive was. No matter. Severus accepted this in stride, pulling away from Harry a comfortable distance.

"Quite right. It’s not healthy to dwell on the past. But I’ve always wondered what I did wrong, what I did that might have displeased Lucius that night."

"He didn’t seem at all displeased, if I was him, and he was me," Harry said. "Or, something," he added when Snape studied him closely. "It wasn’t technique, if that’s what you’re worried about."

"I should hope not. I got a week of detentions for breaking into the Restricted Section for those particular books. McGonagall wanted to flay me."

"You amazed Lucius," Harry said, hoping that was good.

"Worse than I thought, then," Snape decided grimly. "I overwhelmed him. Too much? Too quick?"

"Have you been worried about it, all these years?" Harry asked. Severus shrugged.

"I wouldn’t say worried. I’d say concerned. What if– it’s the single most destructive thought any of us can have. What if I had done this? What if I had done that? Would things have turned out differently if I had done this? Do you understand?"

"Mm hm," Harry said, giving a quick nod. Snape appeared to very seriously doubt him.

"Illumina always told me that my biggest problem was always feeling like I had to prove myself better. Didn’t matter what it was. I always had to be better than everyone else. Smarter than everyone else. Quicker. More worldly. More capable. More durable. You’re smiling again, Potter, and I’m not sure I like the ideas that are going through your head."

"You’re a double agent," Harry whispered. Severus’s eyes narrowed to pinpoints.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You and Lucius were shagging, yet he is married, and you are married, and clearly, that wasn’t all bad for you either, because you and Illumina seem to get along well." Harry balanced the conversation between one hand and the other, quickly drawing out the glove and giving it to Severus.

"Where’s the potion?" Snape asked. Harry gave that to him as well.

"Tell me about the gloves," Harry said.

"I saw them in a shop in London and bought them for Lucius with the money I was supposed to use for school clothes. I knew Lucius would love them. His father never allowed such frivolity as this. Too expensive. Too showy. The man was waging a patrician war against masculine beauty. He deplored pointless charm, especially in his son. And what is Lucius absolutely spilling over with, I ask you?

"Pointless charm?" Harry ventured.

"Lucius was always dressed finely but as plainly as possible. His father made every conceivable attempt to conceal what an exquisite young man Lucius was. But these gloves screamed to me when I saw them, and I bought them for Lucius. He was flabbergasted. He was flattered. He was accustomed to people fawning over him all the time, but no one had ever given him something so decadent and pointless and beautiful before. I may have spoiled him for life with one pair of gloves," Severus mused.

"They are rather nice," Harry said, stroking the velvet a final time.

"There’s that foolish word again."

"They are smooth, and soft, and heavenly, and I wonder what it would be like to be covered in this material from head to toe. Is that better than ‘nice’?" Harry asked. It must have been. Severus was chuckling.

"Harry, the situation between Lucius and I was once. It wasn’t long term. If anything, he would be embarrassed if reminded of it."

"Yes. I know. It was a long time ago, and you’ll never do it again. But once is sometimes enough, isn’t it? I mean, I’m curious what it would be like....you know....in person. I’m only curious."

"There’s no harm in curiosity," Severus decided. "But this conversation isn’t appropriate."

"Why not? You said I could ask you anything. I want to know what it feels like when someone who...cares....about...you....someone...when they....."

"I simply cannot believe we are having this conversation. At the risk of stating the obvious, Mr. Potter, you are my student. I am your married instructor. You are sixteen. I’m over forty. You’re the bright shining sun of the wizarding world. You’re clean, unsullied, white as fallen snow. My hands and my soul are covered with deeds as black as pitch. Not to mention the most compelling reasons of all."

"What would those be?"

"Dumbledore would be less than understanding, and Remus Lupin would burst his spleen in fury at me. I wish you wouldn’t smile that way when I tell you serious things, Harry."

"Like what?" Harry wanted to know, not even aware of the way he was smiling.

"My job, Mr. Potter, has always been to prevent your innocence and your abilities from falling into the wrong hands. How hypocritical would it be if after all these years of protecting you, putting my life on the line for you, being willing to kill or die for you, if I were the one to seize your innocence for myself, and thereby wreck your abilities as a wizard?"

"Wait," Harry puzzled, his ears ringing with the rush of blood in his brain. Severus’s look changed, as if he realized what he’d said and was regretting his words. "You’re attracted to me?" Harry was smiling that way again. "Could we go some place private and discuss this?"

"What part of INAPPROPRIATE don’t you get?" Snape growled.

"Go back to the part about protecting...preventing...." Harry’s eyes went wide as the rest of Snape’s words grabbed him by the throat and choked away his ability to think.

"I erred in telling you," Snape decided.

"You’re supposed to keep me pure?"

"Yes, for as long as I can."

"How do you plan to do that?"

"I’ll make you wear a chastity belt if I have to," he warned.

"Why did you ask me all that stuff about whether or not I was a virgin if you already knew I was? Am. Whatever."

"It grieves me to tell you that we were having that exchange for someone else's benefit."

"You had to prove to someone else that I was a virgin. But who? Why?"

"I really don't think I'm the person you should be asking about this, Harry," Severus dodged.

"I can’t have sex?"

"You can have sex, with yourself and no one else."

"!" Harry’s expression said it all.

"It’s not forever, Potter. It’s until Voldemort is dead."

"What?!" Harry bellowed, drawing in a chestful of air. "I can’t have sex until Voldemort is DEAD?"

"It’s not that you can’t have sex. The truth is you shouldn’t."

"Draco was telling me the truth? I’ll lose my magic if I lose my virginity?"

"No. Your magic will be stronger the longer you remain a virgin. The longer you allow your body and your magic to mature, the stronger your abilities as a wizard will be."

"How long have you known about this?"

"I thought I told you this was inappropriate."

"But, sir! How can you ask this of me? I never agreed to stay a virgin until Voldemort is gone."

"If you want any hope of defeating him, you’ll put your own selfish desires aside and do what’s best for the people who are depending on you. Do you know how many have sacrificed themselves for you? For what we hope you can do? How dare you think of yourself when so many people have given their all?"

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long did Voldemort wait?"

"25."

Harry gave a scalded gasp and exploded with fury.

"That’s another TEN YEARS!"

"Nine, actually."

"It’s a bloody decade!"

"This may shock you, Potter, but there are people who have abstained from sex for months, years, decades, and they’ve gone on to lead perfectly healthy lives."

"Are they all cranky, dungeon-dwelling Potions Masters?" Harry growled. Severus grinned almost immediately.

"Not all of them, surely," he replied. "What would be the odds of that?"

"This is horrible!" Harry bawled.

"Look on the bright side."

"There’s a bright side?!"

"There’s always the remote chance Voldemort will get killed sooner rather than later."

"What do you suppose the odds on that are?" Harry muttered.

"Slim to none, but they do exist."

"Why didn’t Dumbledore tell me about this before?" Harry protested.

"You were eleven years old when you came to Hogwarts. You were a child. What did you think Albus was going to do? Take you to his office, give you a lemon drop, and say, ‘Look, Harry, I know you’re only eleven years old, and that you’re spent the better part of your life locked under a staircase in the dark, but here’s how things stand. You are the savior of the wizarding world you never knew existed. You’re pivotally involved in a dark and bitter dispute between the forces of good and evil. Oh, and by the way, you can’t have sex until you kill the evil bastard who murdered your parents’. Is that what you expected to hear?"

Harry blinked at Snape in anger, not sure whether to cry or to strike out at him. He turned and picked up Snape’s cloak off the floor, and started down the hallway.

"Come back here with that. Where are you going?!"

"Dumbledore," Harry replied.

"What?" Snape hurried to catch up.

"I’m going to ask him to tell me what else there is to know about this whole Voldemort situation. I want to know what other hidden agendas and secret prophecies and nasty little catches I’m going to encounter before I’m finished with this," Harry swore, storming down the stairs. Severus bounced happily after him.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," he cautioned, beaming gleefully in anticipation.

"I find out there's anything else you all haven't told me, the next Dark Lord that comes along, you're on your own," Harry threatened angrily.

"Ah, Harry! I was about to send for you!" Albus Dumbledore beamed when Harry burst into the office. Potter froze on the first step, his mouth open in shock. Remus Lupin was sitting in front of the Headmaster’s desk, and beside him were Draco and Lucius Malfoy.

"Lucius!" Snape gasped. He quickly handed Harry the charm repeller and rushed forward to put a hand on Malfoy Senior’s shoulder.

"I’m positive I know you," Lucius said as he squinted up at Severus. Draco shook his head sadly.

"He’s been hit by an Obliviate spell," Draco explained to Snape.

"Are you harmed? You should see Madam Pomfrey at once," Severus insisted, pulling Lucius to his feet. Malfoy was laughing softly.

"The lovely lady in the hospital wing?"

"Don’t worry," Dumbledore assured Snape. "He’s already been checked over twice. Madam Pomfrey pronounced him in sound health, physically. As soon as they take their leave of us, Draco is going to escort his father back to Malfoy Manor, and he will remain at his side until Lucius recovers himself."

"When I find out who did this to my father, I’ll have them before the Ministry of Magic on assault charges," Draco promised vehemently. Lucius tisked at him in good humor.

"Lad, I’m perfectly fine. I haven’t felt this good in years. Draco. Draco. Who are you again?"

"I’m your son."

"Yes. I do see the resemblance. Handsome devil, aren’t you? Your mother? My wife?" he asked, his fingers doing a little happy dance as a smile spasmed on his face.

"Her name is Narcissa," Snape supplied, darting a hot glance at Lupin, who was holding his side in an effort not to bust his gut in laughter.

"I’m dying to meet her," Lucius purred. "Is she good looking?"

"Very," Snape assured him.

"Let me get this straight. I'm extremely rich. I have a gorgeous wife. I have a son any man would be thrilled with. I'm a powerful wizard. Have I always been such a lucky bastard?" Lucius asked.

"You were born with a lucky horseshoe up your—" Lupin tried to say when Dumbledore interrupted.

"Mr. Malfoy, Madam Pomfrey assures me your father is in perfectly fine shape. But you should have your family doctor give him a thorough examination when you get him home, to put your mind at ease. I will tell your instructors not to expect you back until you are ready."

"Do you want my help?" Severus offered. Draco took his father’s arm, shaking his head no.

"Draco seems to know where we’re going. We’ll be fine. Nice to see you. What was your name again?" Lucius asked.

"Snape. Severus Snape."

"Snape. I’m sure I know you."

"You’ve known me for many years, Lucius."

"You have a son as well, I see," Lucius smiled at Harry. Potter was gaping at Malfoy, trying to ignore the scowl Draco was wearing, watching his father make a right fool of himself.

"Um, no," Snape said as Remus all but fell out of his chair.

"NO!" he hollered, furious.

"I’m sorry. No. I can see that now. I do apologize," Lucius said.

"Harry Potter," Harry said, extending a hand at Lucius. Malfoy took his hand, and to Harry’s surprise, his scar tingled, not in anger or terror, but with happy zinging that was very pleasant.

"If you shake hands with everyone we meet, we’re never getting home," Draco said, detaching Harry’s hand from Lucius’s. He escorted his father away very stiffly, and Dumbledore closed the door behind them. Once the door closed, Harry and Severus assumed the seats Draco and Lucius had vacated. Harry rubbed his head and shook out the stars that had started to collect there.

"Where was he found?" Harry asked into the suspiciously quiet room.

"London," Lupin said. "Tonks and I were there to see Shacklebolt off on vacation, and damned if Lucius Malfoy doesn’t step right off the train in front of us, smiling like a dazed tourist. Someone apparently obliviated him, blissed him, gave him a Eurorail Pass and a major credit card, and sent him off to the Continent for a small vacation."

"He had a Muggle passport stamped for everywhere from Portugal to Pakistan," Dumbledore explained.

"Blissed him?" Harry questioned.

"They gave him a bliss. It’s a spell that makes you cheerful for a week, a fort-night, a month. There’s no telling how long it could last," Remus explained. "What a blessing!"

"You were there when he arrived?" Snape questioned, glaring at Lupin.

"How lucky is that?" Remus grinned. Snape’s glare darkened.

"You’ll forgive me if I find this whole situation more than appalling."

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore soothed. "Lucius is perfectly fine. He’s tanned and rested and happy. He’s never been better. I won’t have you and Remus bickering like children. Why don’t you tell me why you and Harry are here? Severus, quit glaring at Remus and focus your attention here, please. I see you’re having trouble with your charm repeller. May I have a look?" Albus said, putting out a hand. Harry carefully gave the rock to the Headmaster.

"Someone scared it," Harry said, though he wondered if the repeller had simply gotten one good look at Snape in a foul mood and fled the office for its own safety.

"Scared it? They’ve nearly terrified it to death," Dumbledore tisked, staring at it over the rims of his sparkling glasses.

"Does this have anything to do with Le Clair’s appearance last night?" Lupin asked.

"No. It happened two days ago," Snape muttered.

"Why didn’t you come to me when this first happened?" Albus asked.

"It was at the very top of the Black Queen’s Tower. It took me a day to find it, and another day to figure out how to get it down."

"How did you get it down?" Dumbledore asked.

"I lifted Mr. Potter up to reach it."

"Creative," Dumbledore smiled. "I’ll see what I can do about it. Find out what scared it."

"What are you going to do about Volkova and Le Clair?" Lupin asked.

"Whatever I can do. You aren’t suggesting we allow her to surrender herself to him, are you?" Dumbledore asked. Lupin shook his head no.

"He’ll kill her sure as the world," Lupin said.

"No. I suspect he means to convert her. Why not let him do it? It was her house elf who let him through the wards into the school," Snape said. Harry’s eyes went wide at this announcement.

"Malchik was doing what Volkova told her to do. She did not know that he followed her from Venice until it was too late, and then she was on the run for her life," Dumbledore insisted. "You can’t think Volkova would willingly bait a vampire into coming this close to our students."

"Can’t I?" Snape asked.

"She wouldn’t risk Malchik’s life," Harry interrupted. "Dobby said..."

"Dobby said what?" Snape asked.

"Dobby said Professor Volkova takes very good care of Malchik."

"Hmph," Snape snorted.

"I know you don’t like Professor Volkova, but from what I’ve seen, she cares about Malchik and would never endanger her. She certainly would not use her as vampire bait," Harry growled at Snape. "Malchik is her only friend and ally, don’t you see?"

"My heart bleeds for her," Snape purred.

"You are in a foul mood, aren’t you?" Dumbledore asked, keeping a remarkably straight face, all things considered. "Harry, you came in in a rush, and got side-tracked. What is it you wanted to talk about? Do you have questions about what happened last night? Did it look to you like Malchik wanted an confrontation with Le Clair?"

"No, sir," Harry answered when he could manage to speak. "She was as scared of him as I was."

"Your tie was a big hit. I think you’ll notice if you go past the hospital wing on your way to deliver these to Hagrid," Dumbledore said, handing Harry a tremendously-large pair of furry mittens from a bottom desk drawer. "She’s probably never going to take it off again."

"Why did you burst in, Harry?" Lupin asked. Dumbledore and Snape stared at Harry as Potter fingered the furry mittens and opened and closed his mouth several times. Severus clearly couldn’t wait for Harry to go on and spit it out.

"It’s not important," Harry lied, ducking his head.

"So much for Gryffindor spirit," Snape whispered. Harry gave him a petulant squint from under a fringe of wild hair and pink-rimmed cheeks. Snape taunted him back with an anything-but-innocent smile.

"Peppermint?" Dumbledore offered, holding out a dish to Harry. Potter put a couple fingers into the glass container and snagged a candy. He pushed it into his mouth, lowering his eyes to the floor as he felt all three adults staring at him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, sucking noisily.

"You’d better run along, Harry," the Headmaster said, rising to his feet and motioning for Harry to do the same. "Hagrid needs his mittens."

"You’re trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?" Harry asked.

"Speaking frankly, yes. I wouldn’t normally be this brusque, but I do need to talk to Remus and Severus, and I suspect they need to do a bit of talking among themselves. A fair piece of that is going to concern you. There could be foul language involved. No need to expose you to all that." Dumbledore allowed a small smile to grace his face, and it seemed enough to amuse Harry but not annoy Lupin or Snape.

"What are you going to do while they’re talking?" Harry wanted to know.

"Wait for them to stop. If they don’t settle their differences, I’m going to lock them in a room and not let them out until they promise they will get along. Oh, don’t think I wouldn’t do it," Dumbledore added, pointing one long finger at Snape, who was already making a sour face at Lupin. "You run along, dear boy," the Headmaster said to Harry.

"Can I have my cloak back, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked as Harry turned to leave. Harry stomped back in his direction, and dropped the covering unceremoniously into Snape’s lap. The gush of black material disguised the fact he had purposefully stepped on Snape’s long toes. To his credit, Snape didn’t so much as blink.

"Does your back still hurt?" Harry taunted.

"How’s your scar?" Severus murmured back.

"I’ll bet your Patronus is a garden slug, one of the really disgusting green ones," Harry muttered.

"Actually, it’s a poisonous tree frog," Snape retorted. Harry huffed at him, turned up his nose, and stomped loudly away.

Rumors had been flying all over school for a couple days now, about how Lupin and others had by chance run into Lucius Malfoy in London and rescued him. The students somehow knew all about how Lupin had brought Malfoy Senior back to Hogwarts and graciously released him into his family’s care. Whoever had oblivated and blissed Lucius Malfoy had done a very superior job of it. By all accounts, he’d been spreading good humor and joy everywhere he went. Family advisors had instructed Narcissa to keep Lucius confined to Malfoy Manor for the time being. Draco had yet to return to school, and Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if he weren’t back for some time. He didn’t know why, but Harry found himself feeling sorry for Draco. Here the boy was, barely older than Harry, facing the possibility that his father might never be right in the mind again. It must have been very hard to accept.

At the Gryffindor Table, Ron and Harry sat side by side, and Hermione sat opposite them with her nose in a book. It wasn’t turning out to be a very cheery holiday. Not even the live bats put a smile on Harry’s face this year. He could feel it in his bones– the night was going to go from bad to worse. Of course, Halloween had never been for good to him, had it?

"Find anything useful?" Ron asked. Granger replied a quick ‘shush’ and continued reading. Ron nudged Harry’s side. "She’s barely talked to us all night. You’d think we was nothing but rubbish."

Granger lowered her book and stared blandly at Ron.

"It’s fascinating, really. The Bliss is a blessing, and so there’s no counter curse. Nothing can be done. It leaves the victim in a state of happiness that pain, sorrow, nor heartbreak can penetrate." Hermione said quietly. "Really quite fascinating."

"There’s no counter curse because it’s a blessing, that’s what Professor Snape said," Harry murmured. "No one needs a counter bless, now do they? No point to it. Why would you want to undo a blessing?"

"So Lucius will be in a good mood for a few days. Where’s the harm?" Ron wondered.

"It’s serious, Ron. Someone under the sway of a Bliss for more than two weeks straight can be considered for commitment to St. Mungo’s," Hermione said.

"I don’t see the problem," Ron countered. "Draco’s not at Hogwarts bugging us. Lucius Malfoy isn’t out, spreading his ‘pure-blood’ rhetoric about the wizarding world. He can’t use his money to get his way out of this one. You-Know-Who is short his most important accomplice. The Big V must be fit to be tied. Where’s the downside?" Ron wanted to know.

"Draco hates our guts," Hermione said. "He’ll stop at nothing to find who did this to his father."

"Serves Lucius right. Someone ought to have done it to him sooner," Ron barked.

"Look what Draco did to Harry."

"You mean the boob thing? That wasn’t Draco at all, and Harry got better."

"If Draco decides to commit his father, and he gets his hands on the Malfoy family money, there’s very little that’s going to stop him if he means to do me harm," Harry said grimly. "If he suspects I had anything whatsoever to do with what happened to his father, he could make Voldemort seem down right chummy."

"You didn’t do it. Draco knows that," Ron protested.

"But if someone injured Lucius in an effort to help me defeat Voldemort, I’m partially responsible for his condition, aren’t I?" Harry asked.

"You’re nutters," Ron decided, giving Harry another candy apple.

"Have you taken a good look at Volkova this evening?" Hermione said.

"She’s out of sorts, isn’t she?" Ron said. "Looks green around the edges. Her hair could use a combing too."

"We’d look a bit green if we had a vampire calling for our blood, wouldn’t we? I feel bad for her. Draco’s been gone for more than twenty-four hours," Harry whispered. "If she’s been depending on him as a source for the ingredient for her protection spell, and he’s gone too long, she’s going to be left vulnerable."

"You really think she’s been, you know, doing stuff to Draco?" Ron asked.

"Ron, if she did anything to Draco, he wouldn’t be a source anymore," Hermione reminded him softly.

"Whatever. You’re splitting hairs. If he’s doing something around her so she can have the end result."

"Don’t say it," Hermione cringed. "I’m getting queasy, all this talk about it."

"What I’m saying is," Ron started, and Hermione made a face at him. "You know what I’m saying," he turned to Harry and continued. "Whether or not Draco is still technically a virgin, Volkova is doing improper things to one of her students. We need to tell someone," he insisted.

"I tried to tell McGonagall," Harry said.

"How’d that go?" Ron wondered.

"I couldn’t," Harry sighed.

"Why not?"

"I lost my nerve," Harry admitted.

"You lost your nerve?" Ron teased. "You’ve got more balls than Quidditch, Harry. How could you lose your nerve?"

"I didn’t know how to tell her."

"It’s easy."

"Oh, is it? ‘Good morning, Professor McGonagall. Lovely weather we’re having. By the way, Draco’s touching himself and giving his spunk to Volkova’. Why do you think I haven’t told her?" Harry fussed. Hermione groaned, and Ron laughed.

"Harry," she growled.

"What?"

"I’m trying to eat."

"You’re not eating. You’re ignoring us. You’re reading at the table. It’s incredibly rude," Ron pointed out. Hermione snapped her book shut and glared silently at Weasley. Ron glared silently back.

"Do you have to keep saying it?" she whined at Harry, glancing at him.

"What word do you want me to use?" he questioned.

"I want you to stop talking about it," Hermione growled.

"You can’t use cum or sperm," Ron reminded him.

"Or gism. Or creme," Harry continued.

"She ixnayed love juice as well. Frankly, I’m running out of euphemisms," Ron chuckled, delighting in Hermione’s discomfort.

"Vulgar barbarians," Hermione glared at them.

"Whatever way you say it, the fact of the matter is, Volkova has lost her source for her potion ingredient, and she’s nervous. That’s all. I’ll bet she’s racked up plenty of enemies in her years as a vampire killer," Harry went on. "Not just the highly-agitated Monsieur Le Clair either."

"Probably," Ron agreed. "Of course, he’s allergic to sunlight, so he should be easy to avoid, but the others could be trickier."

"Wonder if Snape has made any progress with that potion I gave him," Harry said.

"We’re overlooking the obvious. Volkova could always find herself another virgin. Wouldn’t be hard around here," Ron said, smiling at Harry. Potter gave him a dark glance. "Are you supposed to have fencing lessons tonight with Snape after dinner?" Ron asked, trying to divert his anger.

"He cancelled on me. Said he has an appointment this evening, but that we’ll pick up tomorrow night."

"Who’s he meeting?" Hermione asked.

"His wife." The words were out of Harry’s mouth before he could stop them. Ron and Hermione both gaped at him. Harry raised a finger and said, "Obliviate," at them.

"Correct me if I’m wrong," Hermione began.

"There’s simply no justice in a world where Draco Malfoy is wanking off for the best-looking teacher around, and Severus Snape is meeting his....didn’t you say his wife was a vampire?" Ron asked, finishing Hermione’s question for her.

"No comment," Harry growled.

"Fine. No comment. Well, since you’re free, you can spend the evening with Hermione and me."

"Oh joy. As much as I’d love to watch you two fight or snog, or fight and snog, or whatever, no thanks," Harry moped. "I'd rather go drown myself in one of the apple-bobbing tanks."

"Harry," Hermione scolded.

"You’re a day behind, mate," Ron teased. "While you were getting charm repellers off the ceiling for Snape, she was busy telling me she wouldn’t marry me if I was the last single wizard in England."

"If I 'were' the last single wizard, 'were' the last single wizard, and I said in the entire U.K.," Hermione corrected.

"There. You see? Even less likely," Ron motioned.

"Oh, stop," Harry muttered. "Who do you think you’re fooling? I’ll die of shock if you two graduate before you’re married. You’ll be together and happy and having sex every day, and I’ll be stuck a virgin forever, chasing Voldemort’s moldy butt all over creation, with no one for company but a half-mad werewolf and an angry, bitter necrophiliac Potions Master."

Hermione and Ron exchanged a significant look. Harry decided that perhaps he had said too much.

"Harry," Hermione murmured in a motherly tone, "you're taking this virgin thing much too harshly."

"I wouldn't go there if I was you," Ron said as Harry's eyes took on the impression that a roman candle was going off inside his skull.

"Where is she going?" Hermione asked as Volkova rose unsteadily from the table and pulled her cloak tightly around herself.

"Where’s he going, that’s a better question," Ron asked as they turned to see Snape slipping out the door into the main hall. "Oh! Is it time for the pumpkin toss on the Quidditch Field?"

"Where are you going?"Hermione asked Harry. Potter slipped his leg over the bench as he emptied his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"To hang myself," he replied before stomping away.

"Harry’s in a mood, isn’t he?" Ron shook his head. "Do you suppose Snape was serious when he told Harry he had to stay a virgin if he wanted to defeat Voldemort?"

"Do you mean serious as opposed to kidding?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, what’s the likelihood of Snape kidding anyone?" Ron agreed. "Harry isn’t really going to go hang himself, is he?"

"No. He’s off to pout in a dark corner in a tall tower. Let him be, unless you want to be subjected to more spleen venting. I for one am tired of having to sit here and be yelled at without giving it back to him."

"Give it back to him," Ron suggested.

"Hard to give it back when he’s right," Hermione said sadly.

"He’s got a dark side, though, that one. No doubt about it," Ron murmured.

***

Harry darted into the shadows at the edge of the Forbidden Forest as Hagrid’s door swung open into the night. The giant himself was traipsing across the lawn towards his house. Harry put himself in the shadow of the closest tree, curling down to the ground under his invisibility cloak as Hagrid stepped closer. Potter had been on his way to the Gryffindor Tower when he saw Snape exit the castle and head in this direction. Having really nothing better to do with his time, and deciding a good pout might wait until later in the evening, Harry raced upstairs, snatched up his father’s cloak, and headed for the hidden staircase. It deposited him in the courtyard, and from there, he had crept towards Hagrid’s Hut.

"You can come out now," Hagrid called into the night when he saw that his door was open. Harry held their breath. Had Hagrid seen him? Who was he talking to?

"I thought I heard someone," Severus said, coming out of Hagrid’s hut

"You did. Me," Hagrid replied. Snape sniffed the night air and pulled on a pair of dark, leather gloves. "You sure this is a good idea?"

"Have you told anyone?"

"No."

"Dumbledore won't allow Illumina in the school. Meeting her in Hogsmeade would attract too much attention. Meeting her in the forest is my only option."

"It isn’t safe meeting her in the forest at night," Hagrid cautioned. "That Le Clair fellow is nearby. I’ve found all kinds of dead animals in there, sucked entirely dry of blood."

So Hagrid knew about Illumina too? Harry held still, continuing to listen.

"If I don’t return before midnight, you have my permission to come into the forest and stake whatever you find, myself included."

"Is Illumina coming alone?"

"As far as I know, yes," Snape replied.

"You can trust Illumina, but you can’t trust Le Clair. I’m telling you, it’s too dangerous."

"Rubbish," Snape scoffed.

"Why don’t you invite her into my house?" Hagrid offered.

"Thank you, but the over-abundance of light and warmth might prove fatal to her. It would take hours to douse the fire and clear out the warmth. Your boarhound would likely panic and try to maul her."

"He wouldn’t maul anyone," Hagrid interjected, flaming with indignation.

"Besides, I’d like a chance to talk to her privately. Is that all right?"

"All right. You want to be alone. I understand. But are you sure you don’t want extra protection in there?" Hagrid asked.

"I’m quite sure. If I don’t return by midnight, you don’t let me come back out of there. Is that understood?" Severus added.

"I’ll be out here at midnight," Hagrid promised, giving a serious frown.

Snape set off into the Forbidden Forest at a quick, determined pace. Harry was tempted to dart away right after him, but Hagrid was still standing outside his hut, and was quickly joined by Fang. Harry stared back across the lawn and his eyes grew wide. In the moonlight, his tracks were glistening on the ground. The odd thing was, there appeared to be more than one set of tracks across the field.

"Bloody hell," he whispered. Hagrid was rising off his steps, and was stalking over to the place where the prints were visible. He was too keen a tracker not to notice them, after all. Hagrid rose up from the ground and walked directly towards the place where Harry had been hiding. Potter dashed off into the forest as quickly as he could.

"All right. You may as well come out. I know you’re there," Hagrid said gruffly. Harry paused in flight to watch the giant from a safe distance. Hagrid peered into the trees, and reached back for Fang’s collar. "What do you think? Do we go in or not?" he asked the hound. In reply, Fang went back into the hut. "All right then. I guess anything else would be nosy, wouldn’t it?"

Harry wasn’t sure why he was following Snape into the forest, except that the alternative was to go back to Gryffindor Tower and be around people who all seemed to be together. He didn’t want to sit around and watch Ron and Hermione get cozy, or Ginny and Dean, or Neville and Luna. Harry tried to think about something else, but he kept coming back to the ugly reality that his life wasn’t his own, and it never had been. Every decision he ever thought he had made had been decided for him beforehand, and he’d just been steered his whole life, like a pawn on a chessboard. The sex thing had been the last straw. These people were even going to control his sex life?? He didn’t have one yet, of course, but he had had hopes!

Harry paused as he realized he was crunching loudly through the underbrush, stomping out his anger with each step. Getting back on the path, he tried to be as quiet as possible. He crept along until he reached a small group of trees. He remained in the trees and watched Snape up ahead in the clearing beyond the wide trunks and thin underbrush. The Potions Master stood straight, glancing around himself and inhaling the cold autumn air as if trying to pick up a scent on the wind. The pale moonlight made him appear even more menacing somehow, swathed in black and striding about.

"Illumina, are you there?" Snape called softly.

There was no response. Severus continued on, disappointment beginning to appear on his face. Every hair on the back of Harry’s neck stood up. His scar was starting to throb horribly, but considering the fact he was following Severus Snape, who was sneaking into the Dark Forest to have a clandestine meeting with his vampire wife, Harry wasn’t at all surprised that his scar was warning him he was in danger. He was keen enough to figure that out without a painful drumming on his forehead and inside his skull. The professor crossed the clearing and moved into the trees again, pulling out his wand. He had sensed someone else was nearby. Harry held his breath.

"Lumos," Snape murmured, his voice deep and fearless. Harry envied that strength, and wondered why he’d never noticed it before.

The end of Snape’s wand lit a path even deeper into the woods, revealing a nearby circle of willows. Snape wound his way into the hollow formed by the bent trees. Animals called in the distance, at least Harry hoped they were animals. Wolves, by the sound of it. He listened carefully to the night as Snape stopped and lowered his wand. Harry worried why until he heard a noise from the other side of the hollow.

"I’ve always liked you in black, Severus."

She stepped into the moonlight, and Harry breathed loudly, an echo of the breath around him in the air. It was Illumina, in the flesh. She looked the same as she had in the picture on his chocolate frog card, with long dark hair and pale skin. The difference was that her almond-shaped eyes were red instead of hazel, and the darkness amplified them supernaturally. Besides that, she was dressed not in the wizard clothes Harry would have expected, but in Muggle clothes– tight leather pants, knee-high boots, and a heavy jacket decorated with thin, silver chains that jangled when she moved. Harry hunched down and watched the two of them as quietly as he could.

"How long have you been waiting?" Severus asked. "Who dressed you in that ridiculous outfit?"

"Not long, and I dressed myself, thank you."

"With your eyes open or closed? You been raiding Sirius Black’s closet?"

"This from the man who once dyed his hair green and silver for the Yule Ball?"

"I was trying to impress you."

"I am trying to impress you. Don’t you like them? I’m told they make me taller." She turned around once, raising her arms slightly. "Say something flattering, won’t you? It took me forever to get into these pants," she complained, putting one hand down on her hip.

"I’d be far more interested in knowing how long it might take you to get out of them," Severus chuckled.

"You know, for a man here to talk about a divorce settlement, that’s an awfully fresh thing to say," Illumina replied, smiling wickedly at him. "Are you sure you weren’t followed from the school?"

"Not that I’m aware."

"I smell candy apples," she said, sniffing the wind. Harry quickly wiped his fingers across his mouth.

"We can't stay here long. I'm sure there are others here in the forest," Snape said.

"Others?" Illumina questioned.

"Like you," he explained. "You do know Le Clair breached the wards at the school, don’t you? That he injured Volkova’s house elf and nearly got his hands on Mr. Potter."

"Henri is angry with Volkova, and you can’t blame him. She killed his partner."

"Recently?"

"Eight years ago in Algiers."

"Ah, too bad. Volkova is under a promise to Dumbledore that she won’t be going about staking anyone. I was hoping it had been recently done. If the Headmaster knew she had killed another since that promise was made, that might have gotten her out of my hair. Why did it take Le Clair nearly a decade to find her? Is he that slow?"

"It might have taken him longer if I hadn’t mentioned that I knew where she was."

"You told Le Clair Volkova was here?"

"Don’t be angry with me. I didn’t dream the man would breach Hogwarts’ protective wards to get at her," Illumina defended.

"He didn’t really breach them. Volkova’s house elf let him through unknowingly."

"Unknowingly?"

"So Dumbledore believes, but he’s willing to think the best of everyone."

"Luckily for you," Illumina mused. "Henri’s hellbent on killing Volkova. More power to him."

"Seems your Monsieur Le Clair is more than a little hellbent on scooping up Mr. Potter if he can manage it."

"He’s quite a handsome thing. Wouldn’t mind a scoop of that myself."

Harry gulped when he heard the words, and lowered the cowl of the invisibility cloak, letting the cold wind caress his face. She found him attractive?!

"I’d have to stop Henri if he tried to harm Mr. Potter. You will tell him that, won’t you?" Snape warned.

"If I see him, certainly. Would you stop me too?" she asked, batting her eyes at him as she gave him a devastating smile.

"Did you see anyone on your way here?" Snape questioned, annoyed briefly.

"I circled around several times, saw a group of centaurs, and a forest troll, but no one else."

"I can’t shake the feeling we’re not out here alone though. I tried to talk Dumbledore into allowing you into the school, but he wouldn't listen to reason."

"You’d take me that close to the most decorated vampire killer in the eastern hemisphere? That’s sweet of you, dear, but no thank you," she laughed quickly. "To the matter at hand, before you freeze to death out here."

"I forgot to thank you. I’ve never been served a decree of divorce in a whisper before," Severus said.

"Yes, but you’ve never been divorced from me, have you?"

"I’d like to avoid it now, if possible."

"No. It’s time you moved on, Severus. My condition is never going to change. What I want is for you to find yourself a wonderful young woman and get on with your life. Have a few children. Make merry while you have a chance. I would have thought that when I was declared missing, you would have been able to move on with your life."

"I can’t leave you behind so easily. We made vows to each other, and I meant those vows."

"Those are vows that should have ended when we realized my condition was permanent. It’s cruel of me to tie you to myself, and I won’t go on hurting you."

"I’m not afraid of pain."

"Perhaps you should be. Let this parting be amicable. I want to see you happy."

Severus choked on a dark laugh, coughed it up to the sky as he tilted his head back.

"Yes, I realize that is asking a bit much. You don’t have to be happy then. I’ll settle for mildly pleased every now and again. Is there nothing that gives you pleasure?"Illumina asked.

"Your company."

"This divorce agreement and my company are not mutually exclusive, you know? I will come and see you, as long as you promise to keep that stake-wielding zealot away from me."

"I’d do anything for you, Illumina. You know I would."

"Anything but give Lupin a sweet-sleep potion to use on Lucius Malfoy," she reminded his crisply. Severus didn’t reply, but his expression spoke volumes. "It was unfair of me to put you in the middle between your love for me and your affection for Lucius. I do apologize," Illumina added quickly.

"The idea of being between you and Lucius isn’t altogether unpleasant," Severus almost smiled.

"I’m sorry about his shocking state of mood, but it couldn’t be helped. I had to get Draco away from Volkova, and the only way to do that was to endanger the only person the boy cares about– his father."

"How did you know she had been using Mr. Malfoy?"

"I may not be allowed in the school, but I certainly can flutter around and perch on whatever window frame I like, can I not? You’d be surprised what I learned, just hanging around."

"How long have you been hanging around?" Severus wanted to know. "Last I heard, you were living in Portugal, but that must have been nine years ago."

"I’ve been around these parts since summer," she admitted.

"I see."

"Professor Malkus asked me to come to London, wanted me to have a copy of the book."

"Hmm," Snape voiced his disapproval.

"Touchy subject," she sighed. "Let’s avoid it, shall we? I ran into Remus in Hogsmeade. He asked for my advice on a matter or two. I asked for his help with Lucius. He was more than willing to oblige me."

"You and Lupin would have made quite a team," Severus said bitterly. Illumina narrowed her eyes at him dangerously.

"No need to be catty."

"You didn’t have to bliss Lucius so hard, did you? Bet you enjoyed it. You never have liked him."

"I over-estimated what an evil prat Lucius is, and gave him too much. I zinged when I should have swished. What can I tell you? Charms are not my forte. You wouldn't help me. I had to do it myself. If you want to blame anyone for what happened to Lucius, blame yourself."

"You risk getting him committed by his family if Narcissa grows weary of him in this happy, laughing, jovial state."

"You always told him he’d regret marrying that creature. I could have proven you right."

"Oh, joy."

"Did you sign the divorce agreement, Severus?" Illumina asked, holding out a hand. He produced a scroll from his cloak, glanced down at it in his grip, and then handed it to her.

"Yes, with one provision to your agreement.

"What is that?" she asked, putting the scroll in her jacket.

"Please don’t make me accept that god-forsaken estate."

"It’s a beautiful, vine-covered, sun-drenched paradise that produces the best wine in the entire area."

"I don’t want it," he sulked.

"What in the hell am I supposed to do with a sun-drenched paradise? Someone should be enjoying the place. Your father sold your ancestral estates when he ‘got religion’ and started making amends to the world. Where are you going to go if you ever leave Hogwarts?"

"I don’t want that estate. There are too many ghosts there," Severus said, bowing his head momentarily. He cleared his throat and looked away. Illumina scooped up his hand and nestled her face against his chest.

"This isn’t easy for you. I’m so sorry, love. I’d give anything to make this better for you."

"I never assumed we’d last forever. I hoped of course, but never assumed," Severus murmured. They moved into each other’s embrace, and despite his usual good manners, Harry found himself gawking openly in curiosity. He should have tiptoed away long before now. It was making his heart race, watching them kiss, slowly at first, the both of them purring softly with pleasure and pain.

"Sorry. Did I nick you?" Illumina asked, pulling back. Severus put a hand to his lip, which was dotted with red. She licked her dangerous teeth even as she apologized. "Sorry. So sorry, love."

In reply, Severus pulled her into another kiss. Harry felt his skin going warm, and felt as if his heart would break for Snape. He shouldn’t disturb them, should leave right away, but he was worried that Snape would be in danger. What if Illumina got too rough with him? What if she accidently bit him in the heat of passion or something and turned Severus into one of them? Harry debated with himself as he turned away.

‘If I interfere, he’ll kill me. But if I don’t interfere, he could die. Undie?’

Harry tried to creep away into the night, and felt a hand on his arm. Another hand went over his mouth, muffling his scream. A soft whisper touched his ear.

"Shhhhh," Professor Volkova murmured, wrapping both arms around him and dragging him into deeper shadows. Harry relaxed against her, only to tense up in terror a second time when he contacted with her body. She was wearing a wide belt he had never seen before, one that was hung with all manner of vials. A broad-headed hammer with an ornately-carved handle swung at her left hip, and several sharpened stakes clattered in a pouch on her right hip. In her hand, she carried a short-handled scythe with a gleaming silver edge that picked up the moonlight like a mirror.

Harry leapt away from her like a cat, going for his wand. Unfortunately, he reacted a second too late. Volkova’s spell hit him in the chest and propelled him through the underbrush. He half-landed, half-collided with a large form, and a strong arm went around him to steady him.

"Mr. Potter," Snape growled.

"Oh fuck," Harry whispered. Snape dropped Harry to the ground on his feet and pulled out his own wand. Harry had no idea where his was, until Volkova stepped into the willow-tree circle holding it.

"You’re going to be in detention until the next Ice Age," Snape whispered venomously to Harry.

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry," Potter stammered quickly.

"I wish it hadn’t come to this," Volkova said, dropping Harry’s wand into her cloak hood and putting both hands on her scythe. It glowed brightly as the shape of the blade changed from a c to an elongated t.

"I’d like to say this is a pleasant surprise, but then we’d both be lying," Illumina replied. "Where in hell did you get a shifting sand?" she asked, indicating the blade that Volkova was wielding.

"She’s lured you out here to kill you, you realize that, don’t you?" Volkova said to Snape, ignoring Illumina for the time being. Severus, for his part, pulled Harry behind himself, gripping the boy’s arm tightly. Illumina moved forward towards Snape, keeping Harry between them. "Step away from them," Volkova warned Illumina.

"You’re here to protect me, are you?" Severus asked. "I find that hard to swallow."

"I followed the boy from the castle to make sure he didn’t come to harm," Anna said.

"You followed a boy wearing an invisibility cloak?" Illumina questioned. Harry looked down, realizing he was visible from the neck up and the waist down as the cloak rustled about in the wind. "I’m not going to hurt Severus. That’s my last intention."

"You’ve got his blood all over your mouth," Volkova growled, pointing her sword at Illumina.

"Put that thing away before you hurt someone with it," Snape barked at Volkova. He let go of Harry's arm, put away his wand, and brushed off his mouth with a cloak sleeve. "I want you to escort Mr. Potter back to the school, and give me five minutes of peace and quiet without lurking over my shoulder. Is that too much to ask?"

"You’re intruding in personal business, Volkova. You shouldn’t be here," Illumina said. "Neither of you should be here," she added, pinching one of Harry’s ear tips with a grip Aunt Petunia would have envied.

"Ow," Harry wailed, batting at her to make her let go. Illumina snarled at him, and he quit swiping at her, gulping loudly as he eyed her long teeth.

"What are we going to do about them?" Illumina asked Severus.

"We have two choices here," Snape said.

"What are they?" Harry asked him when Illumina finally let go of his ear.

"I can Obliviate the bloody hell out of you both, or you can keep your mouths shut. The rather-unlikely probability of the second happening makes the first option the preferred one," Snape replied.

"There’s no need to resort to violence. You will both return to the castle and keep your mouths shut," Illumina commanded, aiming her voice at Harry and Volkova. From the echo in her voice, Harry could tell without seeing her eyes that Snape’s wife was trying to use her charisma spell on them. The Dark Arts instructor narrowed her eyes and pointed the sword at Illumina.

"You're wasting your breath, and your magic. You have no power over me."

"Each dose of the Gallahad Elixir works for twenty four hours," Snape said. "By my estimation, you’ve been at least an entire day without."

"I’ve taken the elixir long enough that there are lasting effects. And I will find another source soon enough. Don’t you worry about it."

"One dose a day forever. Is that any way to live?" Snape asked.

"You’re as much a vampire as I am," Illumina murmured. "We merely have different requirements."

"I’m nothing like you," Volkova hissed. "Nothing."

"What’s wrong?" Snape asked, turning aside as Harry cried out, holding his face and scar.

"We gotta get out of here," Harry whispered. "Volkova! Look out!" he howled, breaking out of Snape’s grip and rushing forward to tug the Dark Arts Instructor out of danger. Professor Volkova rolled out of his grip and roughly to the ground. She came up to a standing position without her sword but carrying one of her vials.

Standing behind her was Henri Le Clair. A cold, liquid splash fanned out from Volkova’s hand. The arc missed Henri but went by Harry’s hand, speckling him with ice-cold water. Henri dodged with impossible speed out of the path of the arc of the rest of the liquid. He bared his long claws and deadly fangs, hissing like a cat on fire.

"Your power is waning, Volkova," he murmured as he and Volkova circled each other in a dangerous, backwards dance. Le Clair sniffed at the air, and grinned wickedly. "You've lost Ivan's charm, haven't you? It only took two hundred years, but one of you finally lost the cursed thing! Finally!" Le Clair chuckled gleefully and advanced.

Volkova nearly stepped on Harry, ushering him out of the reach of Henri’s claws. Potter felt another hand on his back, dragging him by the invisibility cloak.

"Move, Potter! Move! Get Hagrid as fast as you can," Snape was ordering, trying to pull Harry back. Potter was frozen to the spot though, eyes wide, mouth gaping. He didn’t think he would ever be able to move again. Henri was staring at Harry every half second or so, and his wicked smile grew more and more feral. Potter knew if the vampire managed to get through Volkova, that he was as good as dead. Um, undead.

"Your grandfather– now there was a worthy opponent," Henri taunted Volkova, grinning his midnight smile at her. Anna ‘accio’-ed her sword from the ground and caught it with a lightning-fast flick of her hand.

"I will kill you for what you did to him," Volkova warned.

"Now let’s none of us do anything rash," Illumina soothed. "Acting this way in front of an impressionable child. Henri, you should be ashamed."

"Yes, let us settle this rationally," Snape encouraged.

"Rationally?" Henri scoffed. It seemed to be the only thing Volkova and he agreed on.

"What was rational about him flaying the skin off an ancient, senile wizard before burning him at the stake? Hm? Why should I be rational with this creature?"

"I got your attention, didn’t I?" Henri purred.

"What I did to Radu in Algiers? That’s going to be but a pleasant memory when I get my hands on you, Le Clair," Volkova hissed at him.

"Let’s be adults here, shall we?" Snape suggested. "You can have Volkova, and Volkova can have you, and we’ll take the child back to the school, and leave you to settle your dispute," he smiled darkly. Volkova needled Snape with a sneer, and he returned the favor.

"Who knew you had such wit?"she mocked.

Henri took advantage of their mutual distraction. He leapt quickly, tearing Harry out of Snape’s grip, and slashing blindly at the professors with his claws. He caught both Volkova and Severus with the swipe, and they bellowed in pain as they dived in opposite directions. Snape was holding his torn shoulder, and Volkova had a trickle of blood down her right cheek. Illumina screamed out and rushed forward. Harry lifted his head as Le Clair pulled him into the air and spun him around by his shoulders. Liquid ruby eyes filled Harry’s vision, and nothing else.

"Exquisite," Henri whispered appreciatively. Harry couldn’t move, no matter how much he knew he had to pull away.

"HENRI! DON’T!!" Illumina screamed frantically.

"Don’t struggle, my precious," Henri whispered again. The vampire's charisma spell went through Harry and nearly stilled his heart with calmness. Powerful arms bent Harry's lithe body like a bow, and long fingers gripped his hair, pulling his head back in order to expose more flesh. The bite was swift and terrible, and burned like fire. Several teeth, not just two of them, sank into the junction between his left shoulder and his neck.

"NOOOO!" Snape bellowed. Unfamiliar pleasure radiated throughout Harry from the point of the bite, as Henri’s tongue darted across his skin inside the radius of the bite. Harry managed to squirm only a little in protest. Every nerve in his body was awake. He felt as if he had turned to air, or to fire. He tried to struggle more, but the sleepy, dreamy feeling washed over him again, sucking away his ability to fight.

A large, unidentified something collided with Henri, and they were driven them backward into another heavy obstacle. A woman was screaming above Harry, but he couldn't identify the words. He vaguely felt the ground rise up and stick to him. There was an unearthly howling, a good deal of scratching and screaming above him. The vampire’s face was contorting with agony as he was grabbed and bodily thrown aside.

Harry blinked his eyes to clear the swirling black and golden dots. He could barely make out Hagrid standing over him. A relaxed smile formed on Harry’s mouth as consciousness began to slip away. He mouthed Hagrid’s name as the giant swooped in close.

"Oh, Harry. Oh, love," Hagrid sobbed. Harry wanted to tell him that it was all right, that he felt so good. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t speak. Reality came back briefly in a rush of moving trees, much too quickly and too soon for Harry’s liking. He was going to be sick. He was feeling incredibly nauseous. He was being shaken around, jarred up and down.

"Put me down," Harry moaned against the giant.

"You hang on now, you hear me?" Hagrid panted. Harry was bundled against the giant’s chest as Hagrid raced through the forest with a swiftness born of terror. Harry’s floating feeling was returning. He could feel Hagrid’s heart pounding in time with his own. It was going to be all right. He knew it was going to be all right. He felt peaceful.

The dreams began, and Harry decided if he was dreaming, certainly he was continuing to exist, because dead people don’t dream. At least he didn’t believe he’d heard anything about dreams after death. Unless, he wondered, the dreams were the only reality after death. He decided he should have asked Nearly Headless Nick more about what it was like being dead.

The dreams were filled with things Harry wouldn’t have thought up on his own, fantastical things like about being emperor of the universe, and throwing around moons and stars to decorate the heavens. Idiotic sort of dream for the average sixteen year old. Of course, he had the emperor dream several times, and it always ended badly. Each time, Ron was there, and Ron would betray him. One time he imprisoned Harry in ice. Another time, he sent him into a bottomless hole. It got to where, as emperor, Harry began to distance himself from everyone with red hair, except that he could never quite manage to send Ron away, even knowing Weasley was going to do him in in the end.

There were also dreams about sex– sex involving everyone Harry knew or had ever met. One at a time, two at a time, whole groups of people having sex, and even with Harry once in a while. They involved things that Harry would have considered distasteful or shocking, or even dangerous. At first the sex was extremely fascinating, but the charm wore off quicker than he thought it would. The sex dreams became increasingly more violent and dark, not at all what Harry thought he’d ever want. Embarrassed, he shooed the dreams away, but they crept back in on him every so often.

It took a little time, but Harry started worrying that he was still alive, and in a coma or a vegetative state. He tried experimentally to move his limbs, any of them, and at first found them too heavy to lift. As time went by, he made good progress with the right arm, but someone, SOMEONE ELSE, kept putting it back where it began. How annoying was that! Harry growled at them, and was sure he heard a deep chuckle. He worked up his strength, took a deep breath, and lifted his arm again. This time he heard a voice next to him as the arm was put back into place.

"Making you angry, am I?"

The voice was familiar, but warmer and closer than before. Harry hauled his arm up again, and felt fingers slide over it, bristly and wet. They felt like big cat tongues. He jolted in surprise as the hand went under his elbow and down his ribs. He clenched his fingers tightly and found they were holding material. He growled again, squeezing tighter.

"That’s enough of that," the man scolded gently. The cat tongues lingered over his chest, moving in slow circles. It dawned on Harry that it was probably fingers inside a wash cloth, and that whoever this was, they were giving him a sponge bath. Who in the world would be doing something like that? He struggled to open his eyes, but the lids were uncooperative. He wrestled them open a mere slit, and found only blackness. How odd. Harry pulled on the material still clutched in his right hand. The someone bathing him slid an arm under his back, pulling him into a sitting position. Harry protested with a groan as the world swam with nausea and pain. Oh no. He wanted to be horizontal again as soon as possible.

That settled it for Harry. He had to be alive. He was in a cold, dark place. Someone was bathing him. He was nauseous and in pain. He could growl, and he could use his right arm. It wasn’t much, but he could work with it. Right now, he wanted to sleep again for a while though. He felt queasy and empty. Probably hungry too.

The queasiness had passed by the time Harry woke again. It had been replaced by a lovely floating feeling. Harry purred with relief, and found he could stretch his arms and legs both. How wonderful that felt!

"I’m so glad you’re enjoying the levitation side-effect. You’d better never do that in front of Dumbledore though."

A deep voice startled Harry, and he felt a heavy thud under his body as the bed rose up and snatched at him. Harry complained bitterly.

"No need to fuss," the other voice said. "I’m sure the levitation will return once you're asleep again."

A strong arm lifted Harry to rest against a warm shoulder and broad chest, nearly smashing his nose flat. Someone was slipping his shirt down his back. The silky material slid away from his body, pooling behind him. Fingers smoothed slippery warmth deep inside the aching spot on the junction between his neck and left shoulder. Harry winced at the warmth as it turned hot. He protested with a shudder, and a small sob left his mouth. He pulled his arms between himself and the broad chest in front of him.

"Shhhh."

The rubbing continued, and it seemed to ease the burning somewhat. Harry lowered his arms and leaned against the shoulder again.

"It’s working, isn’t it? Hmmm? Don't fuss. It's going to start feeling better soon. I promise."

Harry recognized the hum of Severus Snape’s voice, and shivered when he felt breath against his cheek, the touch of soft lips against his skin. Harry inhaled in surprise at the tender kiss, and tried to turn his head to look around. The room was entirely black but for a slit of light, and it smelled heavily of incense. If he tilted his head the right way, it was as if there were a door and a threshold about six inches away. It would have made the door about knee high if Harry were lying in bed. That couldn’t be right. He rubbed his face against Snape’s shoulder, and found that instead of the room being dark, he was wearing a blindfold. Where in the hell was he? Why was he wearing a blindfold? Harry raised a fumbling hand towards the general direction of his own face. Snape’s shoulder and chest quaked as the Potions Master chuckled softly.

"Oh, yes. You are coming around, aren’t you? Very good. Very good. I will alert the Headmaster at once. He’ll be so pleased."

Snape made as if to move away, but Harry clutched at him tightly. Panic made his heart race.

"Don’t worry. I’ll be right back," Severus murmured gently. He dotted a kiss on Harry's forehead. "Don’t be afraid."

The bed swayed as Snape stood up. Harry tentatively moved his fingers upwards, starting at his chin. A thick band of velvet was indeed tied over his eyes. It wasn’t tight enough to be binding, but no amount of tugging removed it, either. It was more than secure enough to stay in place, and he understood that was probably the plan.

Curious, Harry stretched out his fingers along the surface he was lying on, and confirmed his guess that it was a bed. Apparently it was a large bed, because he had to lie down to reach the side. Lying down felt good, because he was dizzy suddenly. He stayed on his left side, breathing deeply until he could gain his focus once more. Harry wasn’t even aware that he had fallen asleep. Footsteps approached, and hands delicately lifted him. He was rearranged under the covers, tucked in carefully around the edges. Someone was caressing his hair, cupping the back of his head.

"Harry?" Dumbledore sounded worried and out of breath. "Is that normal, Severus?"

"Yes, he will tire out quickly for a few weeks," Snape murmured. "He should come around again in seven hours or so."

"That long?"

"Between seven and eight hours seems to be his normal sleep cycle."

‘I’ll show you,’ Harry thought drowsily. ‘I’ll be awake again in an hour. Just you wait and see.’

Even as sleep was dragging him under, Harry struggled back to the surface. But the struggle wore him down, and he eventually gave up. He was aware of people moving around him, and he grew more hungry the closer they were to him. But the need to sleep kept him from waking long enough to feed. When he came around the next time for more than a blink of time, a different voice and smell were close-by.

"Ginny was so excited, Harry. She didn’t want to give the snitch up. She wrote your name on it and sent it with me to give to you. You should have seen McGonagall trying not to cry."

Harry squeezed the fingers of his right hand and found that they were intertwined with someone else’s. The other fingers jumped away from him in panic.

"PROFESSOR! HE’S AWAKE!!!" Ron’s voice echoed into every cell in Harry’s body, causing intense pain. Harry’s eyes were watering from the effort to keep conscious.

"Mr. Weasley, keep your voice down."

"Should I keep talking to him?"

"I warned you that he will be ultra sensitive."

"Right. You said sight and smell and taste."

"Sound as well. Keep your voice down," Snape repeated, moving away. "Touch very gently. Talk in a normal tone. Try not to startle him," he recommended, his voice getting dimmer. Ron’s fingers returned. Harry wanted to smile or sit up, but the idea of the effort it would take made him too tired to try.

"What should I talk about?" Ron asked almost rhetorically.

"What do you usually talk about?" Snape called from across the room.

"What a loathsome, annoying git you are," Ron whispered. Harry pushed all his effort behind a belly laugh, and managed a weak smile. Ron’s resulting laughter rolled loudly in the room, followed quickly by the sound of Ron crying. "He’s awake. You’re awake. Oh, Harry! I’ve been so worried."

"For Merlin’s sake, Weasley. Stop sobbing all over him," Snape muttered from the door.

"Sod off," Ron mumbled, his wet face pressed against Harry’s neck. "Okay. I’ll talk. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll talk until you do something else to let me know you’re there."

Harry hoped Ron wasn’t expecting much, because sleep was already nipping at him once more. Except that the closer Ron got, and the longer he stayed, the stronger Harry felt. Harry was kind of angry still about the whole ‘emperor of the universe’ dream thing, but that was a dream, after all, and this was Ron, and Ron was right here, and why had he never noticed before how delicious Ron smelled?? Weasley popped up from the bed, cleared his throat, and pushed a fluttering object into one of Harry’s hands.

"There. That’s from Ginny. She said you should have it, because it would give you something familiar to concentrate on. We beat Hufflepuff, 250 to 100."

Ron cleared his throat again, helping Harry curl his fingers around the small object. Harry felt the whipping of small wings. The snitch was trying to get away from him. He held on as tight as he could.

"I don’t know where to begin, Harry. Your stomach is growling. Are you hungry? Do you want some food? How about something to drink? Do you want me to read to you? I’d bring Hermione down, but Snape said no one else but me. And only me because you had called for me in your sleep. What were you dreaming, Harry?"

Harry wondered when he had said Ron’s name in a good way, and not followed by the nasty vulgarities he had shouted the several times Weasley had managed to undo him and steal his throne. An image returned to Harry. It was one of the more erotic sex dreams that he had had, one of being curled up under the covers of Ron’s bed with him in the Burrow-- so many wonderful tastes and touches. Harry couldn’t remember ever having thought about having sex with Ron before, except when teasing Draco about the graffiti he had drawn in his Transfiguration notes, and that was just a fear that Ron would think Harry really wanted to have sex with him. But Ron was attractive in that tall, red-headed goofy way that could be very appealing. Harry wondered if Ron would have been annoyed about the dream. Then he wondered if Ron would kiss him now.

"Um....Harry....I don’t know if you can really hear me, but I just want you to know that whatever happens, you can count on me, okay? Snape said it could take a while for you to be yourself again. But you can count on me."

That was good to know. But Harry really wanted Ron to kiss him. Right now. Just one teeny little kiss. On the neck. On the mouth. On the cheek. Anywhere. He willed Ron to come closer.

"Harry? What are you thinking about?" Ron whispered, very very close indeed. "You’re not going to try and bite me again, are you?"

Harry could feel Ron leaning over him, could feel soft breath against his cheek. Harry felt and heard his own stomach growl loudly. He could sense the pulse of Ron’s heart, and could smell the distinct scent of Gryffindor Tower on his clothes. His heart began to ache. He wasn’t in the tower? Where was he? This wasn’t the hospital ward. That didn’t matter at the moment. He’d feel sad later. Ron was closer.

"This is really weird, Harry," he murmured. "I’ve never thought about kissing you before, but it’s all I can think about. I’m really sorry."

‘Don’t be sorry, damn it. Just kiss me,’ Harry thought. The tip of Ron’s nose brushed Harry’s cheek, and soft lips touched his. Harry melted as the sensation rolled over him. He was more than beginning to enjoy the feeling when a deep voice boomed in the bedroom.

"POTTER! STOP IT! STOP IT! WEASLEY! GET BACK!"

"I’m sorry, Professor," Ron whimpered, withdrawing from Harry’s side.

"Did you lift his blindfold?" Snape demanded, lowering his voice.

"No. No, sir. I was leaning over him talking, and suddenly kissing him was all I could think about. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I’ve never wanted to kiss him before."

"Stop sniveling, Weasley."

"I’m not sniveling."

"Try not to get as close to him."

"I didn’t mean to do it," Ron was crying quietly.

"Weasley, if you don’t stop sniveling, you’re going to leave."

A hand touched Harry’s face, adjusting the blindfold. Angry, Harry opened his mouth and lunged. Extreme satisfaction filled him when he heard Snape bellow in alarm. The hand was yanked away, but not before Harry got a lick at the salty skin. He’d nearly gotten his teeth into Severus.

"Sir?! What should I do?" Ron gasped. Harry sensed Snape leaning over him, and he bared his teeth, growling again. To his surprise, the bed began feeling softer, or perhaps it wasn’t the bed.

"Sir, he’s levitating again," Ron whispered. "Not as high as before, but he’s up an inch or two at least."

"Thank you, Weasley. I can see for myself."

"What does it mean, sir?"

"It means I’ve got more work to do. You should return to the Gryffindor Tower, Mr. Weasley, for your own safety."

"Can I come back tomorrow?"

"Yes, but only if you promise to remember what I said about the charisma spell."

"I didn’t touch his blindfold. I swear."

"Good night, Mr. Weasley. Take that snitch with you. Be sure and close the inner and outer doors very tightly behind yourself."

Harry whimpered softly as he felt Ron getting further away. What’s more, his stomach gurgled loudly.

"Keep going, Mr. Weasley. I’m not going to hurt him," Snape murmured. "As for you, Mr. Potter. Come down from there at once."

Harry reached out a hand, and felt the bed jump up and grab his back.

"That’s better," Snape whispered. "We’re going to come to an understanding, Mr. Potter. No biting, and no using the charisma spell on me or your visitors."

Harry’s stomach growled loudly in reply.

"I know you’re hungry, but it’s not allowed. I will bring you a suitable dinner, and more potion. Try to stay awake ten minutes, will you? Or it’s not going to be pretty getting it down your throat. You’ve already had one bath today. Do you really want another?"

No, what Harry wanted was another chance to bite Snape. If he played his cards right, he was sure he’d get it too. Ten minutes? He could stay awake ten hours if it meant he could sink his teeth in for real.

Harry jolted awake when he felt the tender touch of fingertips caressing the bridge of his nose, between his eyes. Had it been ten minutes yet? Where was dinner? He was hungrier than he’d ever been in his life. He lifted his eyes to find even dim light was irritating. Severus Snape’s dark eyes and pointed beak came into view, too briefly. A large hand moved over Harry’s face.

"Potter. Close your eyes."

Harry wondered what the fuss was all about. He mouthed ‘why?’ but no sound came out.

"Are they closed?" Snape asked. Harry nodded. Snape lowered his hand tentatively. "A necessary precaution, Mr. Potter."

‘Why?’ Harry mouthed again. His voice wasn’t working. That was odd.

"Think you can stay awake more than five minutes this time?"

‘What.’ Harry struggled with his voice. ‘What happened?’

"What happened?" Snape murmured. "Again? I’ve told you three times already. You don’t remember?"

Harry shook his head no. Snape gave an annoyed sigh.

"All right. But this time, take notes. Let me get you comfortable. Do not open your eyes."

A wet wash cloth moved over Harry’s face, dragged by long fingers that edged into his brow and down over the tops of his cheeks, around the hollows of his eyes.

"Do you remember Halloween night?"

Harry concentrated, and recalled candy apples, pumpkins and bats, and Hermione and Ron bickering at the Gryffindor Table. He nodded slowly.

"Do you remember being bitten?" Snape whispered cautiously. Harry shook his head no, although the image of a man with red eyes and a French accent nagged at him. Harry shivered when Snape began to unbutton his shirt. "Don’t worry," Snape soothed, his voice gentle. "I need to put on the anti-venom. Hold still. Try not to squirm."

The moment the long fingertips moved over the junction of his neck and left shoulder, Harry shivered again. He opened his mouth to protest, and no sound emerged.

"I’m sorry. I had to take away your voice. You were casting spells in your sleep, conjuring things, doing the kind of wandless magic that would make a lesser wizard drop from exhaustion. Wandless magic! At your age! In your condition! I can’t count the number of times I’ve had to vanquish your Patronus. This room was literally filled with roving fancies. I had to get Hagrid’s help with the Norwegian Ridgeback. The laryngitis is only temporary, I assure you, as is the blindfold. If you want to talk for a little while, I can remove the spell. But only if you promise to be on your best behavior."

Harry nodded. Snape stopped rubbing what Harry presumed was his bite mark.

"Finite laryngitis," Severus murmured. Harry felt the poke of a wand against his throat. "There. Give it a try." A dull clattering told Harry Snape had set down his wand on a nearby wooden surface.

"Stop," Harry whispered. His voice was coarse and deep.

"Limit yourself to one or two words at a time."

"Stop," Harry said. Snape’s hand left the bite mark again. "Hurts."

"I know. I do apologize. You’re very sensitive. I’ll be more gentle," Snape promised. "It has to be done though. The reversal is nearly complete. You don’t want me to stop, do you?"

"Reversal?" Harry seized on the word as Snape’s fingers and the burning sensation returned. Snape sighed dramatically.

"You really don’t remember what I told you? It was yesterday, Harry."

"No."

"In short, on Halloween night, you were bitten by Henri Philippe Le Clair, a five-hundred fifty year old vampire and wizard. Through the use of an anti-venom and a cleansing potion, the Canis Capellum, I’ve managed to reverse the majority of the changes that occurred because of the bite. You can thank me later," he added dryly.

"Canis what?"

"Latin, Mr. Potter, for hair of the dog. I’m going to have to improve your Latin skills, aren’t I? Mr. Le Clair was kind enough to donate his own blood to be used, kind enough because I told him if he didn’t, I’d let Remus Lupin know where he was hiding himself."

"What?"

"I tried the same potion years ago on Illumina, and had negative results. Frankly, I’m shocked it worked this time. But perhaps because the bite was fresh and I was able to have the blood of the one who bit you. I don’t know why it worked this time. Like Lucius Malfoy, perhaps you were born with a horseshoe up your derriere."

" ‘Lumina," Harry whispered.

"She has gone back into hiding; I insisted on it, for her own protection."

"Volkova," Harry lurched forward, sitting half-way up.

"It is coming back to you. Good. Volkova followed you into the forest, after you followed me into the forest. You will be in detention until you graduate. But truly, I should have never been there in the first place. Dumbledore took off a layer of my skin, he was so angry with me."

Harry sure hoped that was a figure of speech. Snape appeared to be finished poking at the bite. Harry wanted to look at it, but found he didn’t have his glasses on. No point in even trying. He raised a hand to try and touch it, and felt the raised points of scars in a large radius on his skin. He shivered and remained sitting up while Severus scooted over the side of the bed.

"Volkova followed you, tried to attack Illumina, and drew Le Clair out of his hiding place in the forest. You got in the way between Le Clair and Volkova. Chalk up another deed to Gryffindor courage," he smirked darkly. "Well, no matter. Illumina took Le Clair and disappeared before Volkova could regain her senses. Volkova, more’s the pity, is still here at Hogwarts. Dumbledore insists on keeping her around, but he took away her hammer and stakes. He even took away her shifting sand. She was crushed by that."

"Hmph," Harry coughed.

"Yes. My sentiments exactly. She’s been sniffing around down here trying to find you, but don’t let that trouble you. You are as safe in here as if you were in a Gringotts bank vault. If she harms one hair on your head, I’ll stake her with her own wood."

"Dungeon?"

Snape laughed softly, sitting closer again.

"Yes, you’re in the dungeon. If you close your eyes and listen very closely, I’ll bet you can hear the students in the Slytherin Common Room. No peeking. Keep your eyes closed. I’m going to put a goblet to your face. You are going to drink the contents of the goblet."

"Potion?"

"Yes. It’s going to taste disgusting, but you’re going to drink it."

Harry nodded. Snape put the cold metal to Harry’s mouth, and Harry tried his best to swallow the foul-smelling, thick concoction inside. It took an eternity for the goblet to be emptied. Harry sat still after Snape moved away again. He swallowed repeatedly, but the horrible taste wouldn’t go away. Curdled warm milk or sour something. Ugh. Was that a leg caught on his tongue? He swallowed again, feeling bile in his throat. No. Come on. It was a small bent piece of herb, right? Sure felt like a leg– sticky at the end with feelers. Ewww.

"Here. Mostly water this time, with a bit of lemon and what-have-you. It’ll taste much better."

The goblet returned, and Harry drank thirstily. Whatever it was, the first taste was disappearing, replaced by cool sweetness. He couldn’t get enough of this down his throat fast enough. The thing on his tongue was gone anyway, and that was very important. His hunger was disappearing too.

"Better?" Snape asked. Harry reached for the goblet again. "More?" Severus asked, and Harry nodded. Snape held the goblet to Harry’s mouth a third time. "I shall continue the narrative while we get you comfortable. If the restorative potion does what it’s supposed to do, your physical sensitivity will lessen. It’s already better."

Snape took the goblet away, and wiped Harry’s mouth with a quick, terry-cloth textured pat. He lowered Harry’s shirt off his shoulders, quickly replacing it with another. The silken material teased and tickled. It was like being covered in pudding out of the fridge. Harry let his fingers cup inside the cuffs of the sleeves, and pulled the material to his face, where he rubbed his cheeks and mouth with it. He’d never felt anything so wonderful in all his life. Whose pajamas were these though? He didn’t own anything this nice.

"Could you lie down a bit? It’s easier to get your bottoms off if you’re horizontal."

Harry gasped in horror, grabbing the waistband of his clothes and holding tight.

"What? You’re not going to get shy on me at this point, are you?" Snape mused, pushing him flat against the pillows. "Who do you think has been doing this for two weeks?"

Harry wasn’t sure what shocked him more, the idea that he’d been out of it for two entire weeks, or that Snape had been dressing and undressing him during that time. Also, he’d presumably been the one bathing him. Harry went hot and cold with that distressing thought. Snape’s long hands slid inside Harry’s waist, lowering his pajamas down his hips and thighs, off his legs. No sooner were the pants gone than they were replaced by cool, pudding-smooth material like the top Harry was already wearing. That hadn’t been all bad. Snape had had very gentle hands, actually. Harry trembled and reached for one hand with both of his. Severus paused, letting him hold on.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured. "I'm sorry if it's a terrible shock to wake up and find you're with me, but I'm afraid there was no other choice. Well, there was a choice, but it couldn't be taken, if you must know. Madam Pomfrey wanted to transfer you to St. Mungo’s right away, because she’s not equipped to handle this sort of serious injury. I told Dumbledore that it would be an egregious mistake to let the entire wizarding world know what had happened to you. I offered to take it upon myself to see what could be done for you, if he would let me. If I failed, he could send you to St. Mungo’s, and me to Azkaban."

Harry opened his eyes when Snape brought him into a seated position.

"You can thank me later," Severus repeated dryly. He didn’t feel Harry staring at him, but began to button the boy’s shirt from bottom to top. Whose clothes were these, Harry puzzled. "Here you are. Here we are. There it is. You have to keep them closed, Harry," Snape murmured finally, reaching the top button. Harry stared at Snape blandly, and tried to catch his gaze. Snape kept his eyes averted. "Now’s the point where I tell you about the after-effects you have to watch out for, starting with the charisma spell I can’t seem to rid you of." He put a hand over Harry’s eyes, and leaned their foreheads together. "Close them."

"No."

"Don’t be peevish."

"Mirror," Harry demanded.

"You ungrateful little masochist! Not after last time."

"Last time?"

"I gave you the mirror. You screamed and passed out. Dumbledore heard you all the way up in his office. He came down here and spent three hours ripping me apart."

"Mirror," Harry repeated, putting out his hand to search for the edge of the bed.

"You know, I have a wand, Mr. Potter, and I’m not afraid to use it. Maybe I’ll use my hand instead. You’ve needed a good spanking since you stepped off the boat six years ago."

Harry scrambled out of Snape’s grip and rolled for the side of the bed. Severus quickly latched onto the struggling teen and pulled him back into the middle of the mattress. Harry began to kick and squirm, but his strength really wasn’t up to that at this point. Snape pinned him down on his stomach at first and gave him a single quick rap on the backside with a broad palm. Harry jolted in shock, and spun over. His teeth were bared, and he was growling fiercely. Snape held him carefully if firmly, pushing Harry’s back flat to the mattress. Harry struggled for a moment, but then lay still, waiting, breathing heavily. He gave a soft cry of protest, turning his face away from Snape's.

"I haven't hurt you, have I?" Severus whispered. He dipped down too low, trying to find out, and Harry took advantage. He focused both eyes right into Snape’s at a distance of about an inch. He could almost see Severus’s eyes turn circles upon themselves.

"Mirror," Harry repeated.

"I’ll see where I put it," Snape replied, his jaw slack. He let go of Harry’s wrists and went to search.

Harry remained horizontal, waiting and smiling. Snape returned, his eyes glazed. He shook his head, and sat down unsteadily on the side of the bed. Harry scooted carefully next to him, and took the hand mirror that Snape had brought him. After he labored to pull himself upright, Harry turned over the mirror to peer inside its silvery depths.

His face echoed back at him, translucent and pale. His glasses were missing, so he had to hold the mirror right up next to his face. His eyes weren’t entirely strange– bottle-glass green for the most part, except for a thin rim of red around the iris of his left eye. Odd. He put the mirror next to his mouth and peered at his teeth. Although the canines were slightly exaggerated, they didn’t appear too abnormal. Harry slipped the mirror back into Snape’s grip. The changes weren’t that drastic, and they probably weren’t going to be permanent, Harry decided. Snape had said the potions were reversing the changes. He didn’t see anything to be upset about. Why had he screamed last time?

"Are you reflecting yet?" Snape asked casually.

"Yes. Thank you," Harry whispered, smiling a bit. Oh. No reflection last time? Yes, that would have merited a hearty scream or two.

"Is there anything else you require?" Snape asked.

"Very tired," Harry whispered, sinking himself against Snape’s shoulder, which suddenly seemed more warm and inviting than it had ever before. ‘Hold me’, he thought, and to his surprise, Snape’s hands slid around his waist and up his back. ‘He’s hugging me,’ Harry thought, suppressing a giggle when he felt the mirror thump against his shoulder. ‘Put the mirror down first,’ Harry mentally chided. Snape put the mirror on the side table, and resumed the holding position.

"I could sit with you while you rest," Severus replied. Harry nodded, rubbing his eyes. Snape put Harry under the covers and sat obediently on the side of the bed. Well this was interesting, Harry decided, but not as nice as it would be to have someone under the covers with him. Severus crawled inside without a word, putting his long legs next to Harry’s and getting comfortable. Snape opened his arms, and Harry nestled nervously inside the offered embrace. He put his chin against Snape’s shoulder and sighed. There was only one thing this was missing.

No sooner had Potter given the idea thought than Snape’s long fingers moved delicately into Harry’s wild locks. He knew Snape was going to be livid with anger when he woke up out of the spell, but all in all, this was perfectly wonderful. It filled Potter from head to toe with warmth. As he was falling asleep, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this were the first time he’d managed to charisma Snape in the last two weeks.

"You signed up to stay, didn’t you?" Hermione asked Ron.

"Course I did," he replied, turning quickly. "Think I’d go off and leave Harry at a time like this? Where’d he go?"

"Rough-housing with Hagrid," Hermione motioned towards the giant’s hut unseen but nearby.

"One moment, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said. She paused Ron as he tried to go by, straightening his collar and tie. "Don’t you look in the mirror before you leave the dorm?" she asked sternly. She picked up the shoulders of his robe and straightened it as well. "Go on then," she motioned to the Transfiguration classroom.

"Have you seen Severus this morning?" Dumbledore asked, flipping his sleeve cuff out of the way.

"He was at breakfast for a cup of tea, long enough to mutter about the weather and disappear again."

"And Anna?"

"She was trying to talk the house elves into a second pot of coffee. You’re going to let her go on making that elixir?"

"She’s completely addicted to it, Minerva. If I don’t let her make it, she could die from withdrawal symptoms, or from simple paranoia."

"But she requires certain–"

"I know what she requires. We will find an alternative source other than the students."

"Oh will you? Where exactly?"

"I've already put her into contact with someone who can help."

"Did we do the right thing, letting her remain?" McGonagall asked. "I know she didn't technically do anything wrong, that Mr. Malfoy is of the age where he can consent if he chooses, but honestly, Headmaster, doesn't it give you pause?"

"No," Dumbledore answered, more quickly than McGonagall should have thought proper. "Have there been any further blow-ups between Professor Volkova and Professor Snape?"

"Aside from the random, anonymous acts of violence, no," McGonagall smiled faintly.

"You have to stay out of it, Minerva," Dumbledore cautioned.

"I know. I can’t go around fixing things for Severus."

"No, you can’t. You’re not his mother. He’s old enough to fix his own mistakes."

"I may not be his mother, but I will always care about him. You don’t stop caring about your students when they become adults, you know?"

"Stay out of it, Minerva," Albus smiled.

"I’m trying," she replied. A shadow of black crossed into view, contrasting sharply with the snowfall.

"Good morning," Snape murmured to them, still drinking dark tea from a large mug. "Professor McGonagall, the music you requested from Professor Flitwick. It must have been put in my box by mistake."

"Caroling!" Dumbledore beamed, reading over Minerva’s shoulder as she flipped through page after page of staves and notes.

"Six o’clock tonight, starting in the main hall," McGonagall replied. "We can always use another caroler, Severus," she hinted. The look she received in reply would have frightened most other people. "You have such a beautiful singing voice. Why do you deprive us of your company?"

"You know how I detest caroling," Snape growled.

"How was your weekend? How is Lucius doing? I see Draco is back," she added, watching Malfoy strut his way down the corridor with Crabbe and Goyle not far behind.

"Lucius stopped giving away the family fortune, and has agreed to wear trousers again," Snape winced. "He followed Narcissa around the manor like a lovesick puppy, making love twelve times a day. I spent more time in the library than I did visiting with him or Draco either one."

"I’m sorry," McGonagall said, patting his arm.

Draco nodded to Snape before ducking into the Transfigurations classroom.

"Any ideas on how long that bliss spell will hold out?" McGonagall asked. Snape shook his head no. "Think Illumina would teach it to me?" she asked, giving a half smile. Snape glared at her. No doubt about who she wanted to bliss, was there?

"Where’s Harry this morning?" Dumbledore asked.

"Coming through. One side. One side. Look out!"

The three professors dodged to opposite sides of the archway as Hagrid came streaking across the courtyard and barreled past them. He dodged into the side corridor and stood perfectly still, heaving for breath. From an opposite archway, Harry came running at top speed, dusting off the enormous amounts of snow covering his head and shoulders. He came to a neck-breaking halt and stared around the courtyard with narrowed eyes.

"Hagrid!" he called hoarsely, darting a hand up to straighten his glasses before stooping to scoop up two handfuls of snow. He clapped them together and prowled across the courtyard. Hagrid burst out of the corridor, running full tilt across the stones and into the yard itself, looking like a furry freight train. Harry gasped in alarm, dropped his snowball, and ran in the other direction, but he didn’t get far. Hagrid skidded on his stomach, grabbed both ankles, and wrenched the fleeing Harry to the snowy ground. Screams and laughter echoed in the courtyard as Hagrid began stuffing snow inside Harry’s clothes, growling at him and rolling him around roughly.

"AAAAAAH! Back! Back! Off! Back!" Harry squeaked, batting at Hagrid.

"Are you going to let them carry on like that?" McGonagall fretted to Dumbledore. "The boy’s been up and around for less than two weeks. You sure he’s ready to be manhandled?"

"Yes. Briefly. How long until class?" Dumbledore asked.

"Six minutes," Snape murmured.

"How is Mr. Potter’s condition? He sounds hoarse yet."

"Necessary, I’m afraid."

"Think we can fix him soon?" Dumbledore asked Snape.

"I'm on my last list of possible potion remedies," Snape replied. "If none of these work, I may have to resort to another library."

"Don't despair. You've made tremendous progress with him. At least he’s not still wearing dark glasses. That was difficult to explain away."

"I feel sure I'm close," Snape answered.

"Hagrid is going to give that child his death in a cold," Minerva worried. Hagrid pulled Harry to his feet and dusted him off roughly. Harry was shaking snow out of his ears and off his robe.

"Bloody hell," he sputtered, kicking off one shoe and dancing around a little before putting it back on.

"That’s enough of that. Off to class with you. Go on," Hagrid gruffed, wrapping the scarlet and gold scarf loosely around the boy’s neck. Harry waved bye and crossed the courtyard much more calmly this time. Hagrid waved to Harry, and to the professors before trudging back off and out of the courtyard.

"Morning," Harry whispered as he passed next to the professors, pausing to clean the snow off his glasses. He winced when McGonagall straightened his collar and cold snow slid down his warm back. "Oh..." Harry complained, squirming around.

"Fix your tie, Mr. Potter," she scolded tenderly.

"Duck!" Dumbledore shouted. McGonagall yanked Harry up against the inner wall of the open corridor, shielding him with her cloak. Severus’s mug shattered on the stones. Students came rushing to the doors of both the nearest classrooms. Dumbledore stooped to pick up his fallen hat. Snape lifted his arm to raise the impressively stern bird that had careened out of nowhere to land practically on their heads. Why it had clasped itself to Snape’s forearm was anyone’s guess.

"Raven, actually," he corrected. The black-winged fowl stuck a foot at him. He detached the letter he found. "Mr. Potter. It’s for you."

"Oh," Harry whispered, surprised. He stuck out a hand, and Snape gave it to him.

"Who’s it from, Harry?" Ron called, coming back out of the classroom to stand beside him. Harry shrugged. With clumsy, gloved fingers, he unfurled the small scroll and scanned through the floridly scripted lines. Slowly, Harry’s eyes grew wide. He shook his head in disbelief. Weasley leaned over his shoulder.

" ‘Dear Mr. Potter," Ron read aloud for those in earshot. " ‘I want to profusely apologize for the little misunderstanding we had on Halloween. I do hope my tokens of atonement will somehow make amends for the terrible torment you have endured these last few weeks. I would have written sooner, but am only now recovering from what I can assure you was one of the most excruciating hangovers I’ve ever had the displeasure to experience. Congratulations. I believe you're poisonous. You have my solemn word there will be no further attempts on my part to cause further injury to your most exquisite person. Please be sure to convey this promise to the Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, and especially to your guardian, Monsieur Remus Lupin. If you will permit me one indulgence, I would like to call on you from time to time, at your pleasure of course. Wishing you long life and good health, Monsieur Henri Philippe Le Clair.’ "

Harry rolled up the scroll and exchanged a bewildered shrug with Ron.

"Cool, Harry. You're poisonous," Ron chuckled. McGonagall shook her head, and Snape frowned menacingly at Weasley. "At least he apologized," Ron added. Harry nodded in agreement. The stately raven perched on Snape's arm gave a single squawk and shuddered violently. Severus quickly yanked his arm out of the way. A burst of black feathers filled the air in a swirl, and a black velvet bag clunked to the stones below. Snape swooped gracefully to retrieve the bag, handing it to Harry.

"The aforementioned tokens of atonement, we can only assume," Snape said.

"Open it up," Ron urged. Harry carefully nudged a couple wool-covered fingers inside the velvet and loosened the strings holding the pouch closed. He tipped the contents into his palm, and caught his breath in surprise at the sea of green that covered his hand.

"Oh, emeralds," McGonagall gasped. Several gems filled Harry’s paw. Each of the professors picked up a stone to examine, holding them to the light. Ron picked up one in each hand.

"Emeralds, quite correct," Severus reported. "Flawless. Beautiful."

 "Expensive," Dumbledore whistled.

"Wow," Ron laughed. "Good taste, this Henri fellow."

"Wow," Harry echoed softly.

"Here you are," Dumbledore said, putting the stone back in Harry’s grip. "Best put those away for safe keeping," he advised.

"It’s a king’s ransom, easily," said McGonagall.

"Fine taste in gems," Snape admired. Severus moved to put the stone back in Harry’s grip. He gazed closely at Harry for half a second, and closed his mouth around a wicked thought that had jumped into his mind and displayed itself on his face. Weasley held one of the emeralds up against Harry’s forehead.

"They match your eyes," Ron murmured. Harry shook his head no. "Yes, they do. Every last one of them," Ron argued. "Must have taken forever to get ones all the correct shade," Weasley laughed. Ron whispered in Harry’s ear, "Maybe your blood isn’t all he wanted to suck."

Snape heard enough of the words to understand the gist of what Weasley must have been implying. McGonagall must have heard too. Her eyes flared wide, and she cleared her throat.

"Into the classroom, gentlemen," she ordered.

Harry hid the pouch of gems inside his robe, blushing furiously. The boys hurried into the Transfigurations room behind McGonagall, where Ron loudly announced Harry to the class.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the most exquisite Mr. Harry Potter. OW!"

Harry pushed Ron roughly into his seat and covered Weasley’s mouth with both hands.

*finite*