Chapter Text
The Whispering of Secrets
Author’s note: Okay! So, I know a lot of these stories have been written, but I wanted to try my hand at it! Please forgive any details I’ve gotten wrong or anyone who might be out of character - it’s been just under a decade since I’ve read this amazing series. Let me know if it’s worthy of continuing! Enjoy.
Chapter One: Changing Times and Troubled Tides
~0~0~0~0~
“Severus?”
“Yes?”
“You seem distracted,” Narcissa smiled. The witch was dressed down from her normal, elegant attire. She was clad in a long nightshirt and silky pants. Although her ‘dressed down’ attire was likely more expensive than most people would spend on their entire wardrobe. “Now, did Draco need another potions set?”
Severus saw her husband shake his head slightly. Lucius was reading, a cup of tea in one hand, but still listening to the conversation. How has he been friends with these people for years without imparting the importance of proper potion-making equipment? You could do everything right in a brewing and still fail if you had the wrong size cauldron.
“Of course,” Severus said. “Fifth-year potions require a much higher level of precision.”
“That’s what you said about fourth-year potions,” Lucius pointed out.
“It was true then, and it is true now,” Severus glared at the both of him. “I don’t just hand him his grade because he’s my Godson.”
“Of course, of course,” Narcissa rolled her eyes. It was a gesture that not many got to see from a Malfoy. But to them, Severus was family - the rare and only exception to the carefully crafted social and political mask both the lawyers had perfected. “But wouldn’t the fifth year set we already bought him have been enough?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Severus huffed. “Hogwarts recommends lower than the bare minimum for correct potion brewing.”
It was true, mostly. The recommended set would get most students through his class, but it always held them back from truly excelling. It was the reason his snakes always did so well - he always sent a letter to their parents suggesting they buy the proper material.
Narcissa wisely let it go. She knew she wouldn’t win this discussion she’s been having with him for the past five years. Severus watched her eyes shift with the conversation. Even though she had learned to keep it under lock and key, Veela’s were always gifted with expressive eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear that the Y.M.P.O passed,” Narcissa said, her gaze trailing to her husband. She brushed a few strains of light hair from her face. “Lucius just told me today.”
“Yes,” Severus replied, pointedly setting his teacup down. “These politicians have obviously never been around actual children.”
“I did everything I could from my position,” Lucius added. Severus could hear the frustration in his voice.
The Y.M.P.O, or the Young Magicians Privacy Order, was a ministry order that Lucius had been lobbying to block for over a year. The order made it illegal for a certified healer to cast a full diagnostic spell on any witch or wizard over the age of eleven without parental consent - even if abuse was suspected. It was a clear power grab against Hogwarts, as the age of attendance reflected. Without that chip, healers would have their hands tied with abused children who didn’t come forward themselves - which, unfortunately, was many of them. Which Severus should know - he had been one of them after all.
It was much easier when you had knowledge of specifics, and it helped the child immensely. He could ask them ‘how did your wrist break when you were eight?’ instead of ‘has anyone ever hurt you at any time?’. Children respond so much better to specifics, especially if they think the adult already knows. That way, they don’t ‘betray’ their parents and they can still get help.
“I know you tried, Lucius,” he said. “I appreciate the effort.”
“You’ve helped a lot of children, Severus,” Narcissa said kindly. “The lengths you’ve gone for your snakes, and even others, might not be recognized by the blasted government, but it will always be to those little ones.”
Severus nodded. A depressing number of abused children were sorted into Slytherin. Abuse tended to guide children to his house’s traits - sneakiness, planning, caution, ambition. It was why he required a medical screening for all his new snakes. Even Draco, who knew what his Godfather did long before he was eleven, and complained about it the entire time. Of course Draco was completely fine, but he didn’t allow for exceptions, even from his closest friends. He knew Lucius and Narcissa were anything but offended.
“I’ll figure something out,” Severus promised, conviction in his voice. “Hogwarts will never see another Morgan Lewis.”
Severus had dropped her name like broken ice that shattered around the room. Severus didn’t talk about what he regarded as one of his own greatest failures often. But the Malfoys knew the case better than anyone. It was a gruesome story that most were happy to forget.
Narcissa closed her eyes briefly, as if a cold wind had picked up.
“I still don’t understand how…” Lucius stood up and walked a pace away before turning. “How no one was fired . No charges pressed. No one would press them.”
“Father?”
Lucius spun around again, this time to face his son. The child was standing there with his arms crossed and a rather disgruntled look across his face. Severus raised an eyebrow. Draco’s hair was free from the massive amounts of gel he insisted on during the day, making it look fluffy and unintentionally making Draco appear quite a few years younger.
“Yes, Dragon?” Lucius worked hard to keep the frustration at the previous conversation away from his voice and face as he addressed his son.
“Lopsy won’t stop singing to me,” Draco complained. “Every time I order her to stop, she finds a way to circumvent it.”
Narcissa smiled. “She’s new, Draco, and excited to be bound to a house with a child.”
“I’m not a child,” Draco said indignantly. “Mother, it’s four days until school starts and I should not be awake right now.”
Severus couldn’t help to find the situation amusing. The Malfoy’s new house-elf, Lopsy, had been ecstatic when she caught sight of Draco. In her enthusiasm, she might have been treating Draco a little younger than he actually was, but Draco usually put up with it fine. It appears he drew the line at his sleep. That child was religious about his sleep schedule.
With Ms. Lewis fresh on his mind, he couldn’t help but see her face on Draco.
She had only been a year older than his Godson. Only sixteen years of life to guide her. She had asked - pleaded - for help, but never received it. She was Hogwarts greatest shame that few knew about and even fewer spoke about. He wondered what - if Draco had been in her - would anyone have…? No, Severus stopped his thinking. At the moment, he didn’t need to dwell on her - he just needed to figure out how to ensure her story would never be repeated.
~0~0~0~0~
“I can’t believe you gave them the slip, mate,” Ron was practically bouncing in his seat. “I mean, you’ve been staying at the Leaky Cauldron for two whole weeks? By yourself?”
“Well go ahead and inform the whole train, won’t you?” Hermione chastised. “That was irresponsible, Harry.”
Harry nodded, although he wanted to say that staying with the Dursleys was far less responsible. “I know, ‘Mione. I just couldn’t take it there anymore. I stayed long enough to satisfy the blood wards.”
“That’s something,” she caved. “I just think about what might’ve happened if You-Know-Who figured out where you were.”
“Nothing happened,” Ron argued. “It was bloody brilliant anyway. I mean, c’mon Hermione, you know that pouring Speak-Me-Not on his shoes was clever.”
“It was clever,” Hermione admitted. “But still -”
Harry sat back and listened to his friends argue if his cleverness outweighed his responsibleness. Of course, they were just arguing over his lie. There had never been any Speak-Me-Not and there had never been any convenient Night Bus in his escape. He ignored the deep ache that settled throughout his shoulder and tried to figure out if he was clever enough to avoid going back to the Dursley’s next summer.
He had the year to figure it out. He couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t. He’d live on the streets of London before he would step foot back in that house.
“Harry?”
“Hmm?”
“I asked if you were excited?” Hermione rolled her eyes. “About Professor Lupin?”
Harry nodded eagerly, sitting up again to rejoin the conversation. “I couldn’t believe it.”
“Neither could I,” the girl admitted. “I thought parents would’ve put up a much bigger fit about a werewolf teaching - not that I agree , Harry - it’s just that it’s odd.”
“I heard Dumbledore went up to bat for him somethin’ fierce,” Ron said. “Dad said everyone in the building could hear him going off about how Lupin’s the only decent DADA Professor we’ve had.”
“It makes sense they’d listen to the Headmaster,” Hermione reasoned. “It’s not like he’s wrong anyway. At least we’ll learn material worth knowing with Professor Lupin.”
Harry couldn’t help but agree with them. Having Professor Lupin back was the best news he had heard all year. He wondered if Professor Lupin being there would help or hinder whatever plan he came up with. Because if there were two people in the world that Harry would’ve done anything to keep his homelife from, it was Remus and Sirius. They were - he considered - the last family he had left.
He would not taint their relationship with him by bringing up the Dursleys. He wouldn’t show them just how weak the great Harry Potter was.
~0~0~0~0~
The last place Luna Lovegood ever expected to end up was in front of Professor Snape’s office door. She wouldn't be so surprised to be in his office, but she had never seen herself just staring at the door. She wasn’t normally so hesitant - although she knew the Wumbernots were giving her a very difficult time right then. Luna sighed.
She never disliked Professor Snape and she never thought the Professor disliked her, but they didn’t have much in common. Except sense, maybe. She had heard from a fourth-year Slytherin who she studied with about how Professor Snape will help you - no matter who you are, or what house you’re in - if you’re having problems at home. The girl seemed very sincere - not a Wumbernot in sight. But what if the Professor just thought she was being… looney. Or he wouldn’t think what she had to say was that bad.
Finally, Luna knocked on the door twice. Twice because once could’ve just been a Jumbler. And three times might have been an Illavester. Twice times knocking were always the best.
“In.”
Luna pushed the door open and was greeted with the sight of Professor Snape, dark billowy robes and all. Papers bleeding with red ink scattered his desk. She felt bad for those students who had more red then white on their parchment. The Jumblers loved those kinds of students.
“Hi, Professor,” Luna took a seat across from him.
“Ms. Lovegood,” he acknowledged. “What brings you here this evening?”
“Well, I…,” Luna trailed off and she saw a spark light across Professor Snape’s eyes for a brief moment. She wasn’t sure how to start, but she wanted to be careful. It would be very silly of her to attract any Jumblers right then.
“Are you here regarding school work, Ms. Lovegood?” He asked, somehow his voice felt softer without sounding any softer.
“No, sir,” she said. “I just - heard some things about you. About how you will help students with not-school problems?”
“You heard correctly,” the Professor nodded. “Are you having difficulty with your father?”
“No!” Luna’s eyes widened.
He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly. “I apologize then. Are you having difficulty with anyone at home?”
Luna nodded, her head tilting to the side. She wondered if maybe he could see Jumblers too. Most people couldn’t and the people who couldn’t almost always told her they weren’t real. But Professor Snape never did. He had even asked her about the Bezelbee she told him was buzzing around his silver cauldrons in her first year.
“Cousin Sabrelle,” Luna said sadly. “Father had to go clear out some big Wazlegnats from the train station before they made their nests there, but relocating even one Wazlegnat takes weeks… I stayed with my cousin.”
“I see,” the Professor nodded. “Was your cousin kind to you?”
“No,” Luna admitted. “She - her house was filled with Jumblers and Ireflies.”
“Ms. Lovegood,” the Professor began. He regarded her for a moment, as if carefully thinking about what he was going to say next. “What is the significance of Jumblers in her house?”
“Jumblers jumble, sir,” said Luna. “Sometimes they jumble your head and if they do that, they’re always buzzing around your head. Sometimes… they jumble your house and make everything confusing.”
“Confusing how?”
“Homes are supposed to be very happy to have people living there,” said Luna. “But Jumblers make the happiness go away, most of the time.”
“And Ireflies?” He asked.
“They - they like to stay next to people who are angry,” said Luna, averting her eyes for a moment. “And Cousin Sabrelle is always angry at home, so her Irefiles stay there.”
“How do you get rid of these… creatures?” Snape asked. Luna heard curiosity in his voice and she offered a small smile.
“You have to be happier,” Luna said. “And not so confused. They’ll go away, then.”
“Well,” he began. “It seems to me your cousin must be a deeply unhappy person. I’m certain it has nothing to do with your presence.”
Luna nodded.
“Ms. Lovegood, would you be accepting of either myself or Madam Pomfrey casting a diagnostic spell on you?”
“You don’t need to,” Luna said airly. “Cousin Sabrelle never had any hurting hands .”
Professor Snape looked like he believed her. “Did she have anything else that was, em, hurting?”
“Words,” Luna said. “Very dark words, Professor. I had Waterwhetz around me the whole time. I think they are still a few around, but it’s just the nocturnal ones now. I’m - I’m supposed to visit her again over the holidays.”
“She was verbally abusive to you,” Professor Snape didn’t leave room for protest, not that she would have. “Even though it is less visible than other forms of mistreatment, it is no less disgusting. An adult charged with the care of a child should never allow that child’s body or mind to hurt. Do you understand me, Ms. Lovegood?”
He sounded angry, Luna thought. Angry for her, on her behalf. It felt warm to have someone believe her without question - and for them to step into her corner without a second thought. And all this from an adult too.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Have you informed your father?”
“No,” Luna felt her eyes mist over. She knew if she looked, she’d have a Waterhetz right above her head. “He would be very upset with himself, I would imagine.”
He had sent her to stay with Cousin Sabrelle. He didn’t want her around the Wazlegnats because of how dangerous they could be. He was trying to protect her but instead he… had not. Cousin Sabrelle had always been nice to them - it wasn’t her father’s fault. But, he’d think it was.
“Perhaps he would,” Snape agreed, fairly but not unkind. “But he would also be very proud and grateful if you told him. He’s a good father to you, isn’t he?”
“Very much so, sir.” Luna smiled. She loved her father more than anything in this life. If he knew the things Sabrelle had said to her… and about her mother … he would have Waterwhetz around his eyes for weeks.
“Then he would be incredibly sad if he knew you were hurting and didn’t trust him enough to tell him.”
“I trust him,” Luna whispered. She supposed he would be more upset if he sent her back with Cousin Sabrelle and then found it all out. Luna cringed. He would be very, very upset and he’d probably never get rid of all his Waterwhetz.
“Would you be amenable to me arranging a meeting between myself, you, and your father to discuss this matter?”
“He would want that?”
“You have my word that he would,” Professor Snape said seriously.
“Okay, then,” Luna nodded. “Thank you, Professor. People say you’re scary, but you never have any Ireflies around you.”
“I’m… glad to hear it, Ms. Lovegood.”
Ever since the meeting with them all, Luna felt a million times lighter. Her father had been very sad, but also happy like Professor Snape said. She also never had to spend anymore time with Cousin Sabrelle. Professor Snape had given them the address of a mind healer, but her father had declined and said she could go back to Mrs. Premly if she wanted. She did. Mrs. Premly was the mind healer she talked to after her mother died and she always had light in her eyes.
Professor Snape had sent her a letter a couple weeks later to ask about her and she had smiled while writing back. She knew there was a reason the Ireflies had stayed away from Hogwarts scariest Professor.
~0~0~0~0~
“Harry,” Professor Lupin looked up from his desk, a brilliant smile spreading over his face. “Come here, come in.”
Harry matched his smile and walked further into the classroom. He didn’t make it far before Lupin pulled him into a tight hug. It put some pressure on his shoulder which bloody well hurt, but also… there was a pulling of fear in his stomach that made his skin crawl. He ended the hug quicker than he normally would have and stepped back, careful to keep smiling.
Because there was nothing to stop him from smiling. Nothing he was thinking about, anyway.
“Harry,” Remus took a moment to just look at him, a softness coming to rest in his eyes. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”
“Me too, Professor Lupin ,” Harry smiled teasingly. “I can’t believe you got your job back.”
“Neither can I,” Remus shook his head. “The ministry put up a fight. Can you believe they wanted to put a ministry official in his position? They had no basis for it.”
“How’d you convince them?”
“It was mostly Dumbledore,” said Remus, guiding Harry over to his desk with a hand on his upper back. “But I did have to agree to a monitoring charm and I’ll have to send them a letter each month informing them I’ve taken wolfsbane.”
Harry opened his mouth to protest the unfairness of such measures, but Remus stopped him by moving his hand to his shoulder. Thankfully, the uninjured one.
“No, Harry,” Remus implored of him. “This is good . It’s progress and it can’t be rushed. I’m incredibly thankful for this.”
“I can understand that,” Harry said. He looked over the lesson plans laid out on the Professor’s desk. Either first or second year curriculums by the looks of it. “How’s Padfoot?”
“That old mutt?” Remus’s lips titled fondly. “A pain as always. He asks about you everyday. He was… surprised you hadn’t written to him over the summer.”
Harry felt shame curl around his heart. He had wanted to write to his Godfather. But…
“I wanted to,” Harry said truthfully. “It’s just that the Dursleys, you know, they don’t like magic. They didn’t let me use Hedwig at all this summer.”
“I assumed it was something to that effect,” Remus said, a familiar sadness in his eyes. “Muggles can be very closed minded. I know it may seem cruel, Harry, you have to remember but they just want to protect you from something they don’t understand.”
Hearing Remus sympathize with the Dursleys made him want to stab himself with his own wand. He wanted to scream at him that the Dursleys care more about the safety of a house fly than me. He was angry - angry at the Dursleys, angry at Dumbledore.
Angry at himself.
“Will you tell him for me?” Harry asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.
“Of course,” Remus assured. There was warmth in his voice that Harry didn’t want to hear. “Perhaps we could even arrange a meeting of sorts. I’ll speak with Dumbledore about it.”
Harry smiled, he wanted nothing more than to see his Godfather, but he didn’t think Dumbledore would go for it. Sometimes, when his thoughts were at their darkest, he wondered if Dumbledore was ever actually on his side. His actions always seemed to prove differently.
“Thanks, Remus.”
“Here,” Remus said, snatching up a piece of parchment and handing it to Harry. Harry scanned his eyes over the ink. “Would you mind giving it a once-over?”
Surprise must have blossomed on his face, given Remus’s smile. “Why do you want me to look it over?”
“Well,” Remus never lost the smile, tapping the paper in his hands. “Seeing as you’re the only student I’m aware of who has utilized these spells in a real fight, I’d appreciate your opinion.”
It felt good to be useful. And for Remus to value his opinion so much that he had him look over his own lesson plans. It was nice to not think about plans or problems for a couple hours while he and Remus went over lessons for first through fourth year students.
And when Remus asked if he’d like to make it a regular thing - prompting Harry into a type of Professor’s Assistant position, he didn’t hesitate to accept. Remus told him that it would be beneficial for the younger years to learn from a student who had used these spells they had only seen in textbooks and controlled environments. Harry had agreed whole-heartedly.
Because DADA wasn’t just learning, not anymore. This year, it was training.
~0~0~0~0~
Harry woke up in a cold sweat. His whole body jerked awake and his hands twisted in the sheets as he tried to control his breathing and remember if he had screamed or not. Not that it was ever very hard to explain his nightmares. All he had to do was mumble ‘Voldemort’ or ‘Cedric’ and he’d silence the room and send whoever asked back to bed. Ironically, Harry barely ever dreamt about Voldemort. Glancing out of the bed curtains, Harry breathed a sigh of relief at seeing his dorm mates still soundly sleeping.
His shoulder was screaming at him for sitting up so quickly and he pressed a hand against it, trying to dull the sharp, blinding pain. Why in Merlin’s name wasn’t this healing?
He was about three weeks into his fifth year - three weeks less that he had to figure out how the hell he was going to avoid the Dursley’s next summer. Most of his injuries had healed, no that he had that many to start with. There was just one that was a persistent nag. His left shoulder screamed at him anytime he tried to lift his hand above his chest. It was odd, and a bit concerning.
The Dursleys never beat him - that would take more work that they thought he was worth. However, they had no qualms with a slap, punch, push, hair-grab or whatever they wanted. But those always healed quickly - too quickly for a normal child.
Just right for a freak.
Harry sighed. Even the cuts from Aunt Petunia throwing an empty wine bottle at him had healed without any scars. Funny, he was a boy who couldn’t scar, known for the one scar he did have. And it was true, he never seemed to scar, even from that glass or from his Uncle’s ring across his face. It made being believed impossible.
Not that it was very relevant now - Harry had given up on that after third grade. When the police showed up at their doorstep… how he survived so long without food, he’d never know. But he did know that telling Ms. Lacy had been the worst decision of his young life. She just had such a kind face and a kind name and she asked . She asked him so softly if he was okay and he wasn’t okay .
Harry’s breathing picked up as snapshots from his nightmare flashed unwelcome across his eyes. Dudley and his friends pushing him against that fence - the grass under him - the smell of dirt and salt - the - no. No! He. Was. Not. Thinking. About. That. He wasn’t thinking about the laughing either - god , the why the fuck were they laughing and -
Harry felt his feet on the ground before he knew he had gotten up. The clock only read four o’clock but that was enough for him. He’d catch up on some reading - it’d give him something to talk to Hermione about when he asked why he looked so tired. Perfect plan. A perfect plan that requires no thinking. Satisfied, Harry got dressed and headed down to the sitting room.
~0~0~0~0~
“- and then she acted like she wanted nothing to do with me!” Draco huffed.
Severus glanced over at his godson. During the first part of the year when work was still slow, Draco often came down to his private potion lab to ‘observe’. Although, usually, ‘observing’ meant either complaining about his housemates or gossiping about them. Draco truly was the imagine of his father when he had been a student. Simply because they had been friends, Severus always knew the latest stories.
“Did she now?”
Draco spun himself around once in the chair. “It’s just that - well, I’m happy Pansy got herself a boyfriend and all. She seems happy with him, but we’re her friends and she’s been ignoring us all year.”
“Have you told her?”
“We’ve… made it clear,” Draco said reluctantly.
“So you have not spoken with her,” Snape said as he added crushed beetleworm and hoped… excellent, the potion stayed an icey blue. “You need to.”
“I know,” Draco said. “And I will - I just wanted her to not need us to point it out.”
“Not all of us are blessed with your intelligence, Draco,” Snape said. “Some of us need to be told the thoughts of another, instead of being intelligent enough to deduce it.”
Draco’s shoulders melted to the seat. “Fine.”
“Brillant,” Snape said. The less infighting, the better.
“I think something’s up with Potter,” Draco changed course, his voice darker. “He’s up to something . Something against Slytherin, no doubt.”
“How do you know?” Five stirs clockwise… no, no that would need to be balanced with at least seven counter stirs and anymore than ten stirs would ruin it.
“He always looks tired,” Draco shrugged. “And he’s doing well in class. Like he’s trying to get in everyone’s good graces before his little prank or whatever.”
“I’ll keep an eye on the situation,” Snape growled. He had noticed Potter’s marginally improved potion marks. There, three clockwise stirs had stabilized it.
Draco nodded. “Anyway, what’s the potion for next class?”
“I had no idea you have started a career in comedy, Draco.”
Draco groaned.
Severus couldn’t help but smile at his Godson. With the absence of the medical diagnostic spell for all his incoming first years, he had spoken to them individually to assess their state of mind. He had twin girls that he was keeping a close eye on, but other than that, his new class seemed fine. Draco had volunteered himself to speak with many of the first years after him - a gesture that had made Severus unbelievably proud.
For all of Draco’s arrogance and strutting about, he truly had a kind heart. In Severus’s opinion, too kind, but he wouldn’t change the boy. Like many other purebloods, he had an image to keep up in the public eye - but it was an image that he didn’t mind taking down in the presence of family.
Come to think of it, only one child had come to see him for assistance this year.
Luna Lovegood. She was such an odd, yet fascinating student. Most of her intelligence was hidden behind the odd little creatures only herself and her father could seem to see, but she was still quite obviously a brilliant young witch. The words her cousin had spewed to her made Serverus’s blood boil.
A little good-for nothing. Crazy-psycho bitch! So what’d you do while your own mother died, huh? Stood there like a freak. There is nothing over my fucking head you ungrateful whore!
He thought Mr. Lovegood was about to faint at hearing his daughter say such foul things - especially knowing they had all been directed at her. Luckily, she had her father, who seemed to think she hung the sun, as her support. And an established mind healer. Severus was confident she would be okay, in time.
~0~0~0~0~
Harry really, really wasn’t having fun with these nightmares. Right now he was crying beside the lake. How much more pathetic could he really get? How much more freakish? Harry wiped at his face with his sleeves, trying to push the panic out of his chest.
How was he going to get away from the Dursleys? Maybe he could go just to the house and then escape. No. No, because Du - the person he wasn’t thinking about - would be at that house. It was hard to not think about someone when they’re standing in front of you.
Maybe he could take the train, then run off? But where would he go? Ms. Figg would notice his absence and no doubt tell Dumbledore. Was there anywhere he knew of that he could hide from Dumbledore? Harry laughed in sobs, intertwining with his tears as he buried his head in his hands. Was he really thinking up a plan to hide from Professor Dumbledore?
No, Harry thought as he sniffed, unless he stayed under his cloak all summer, there was no way. But he had already told Dumbledore about the Dursleys and he couldn’t - wouldn’t tell him about… anything else. He couldn’t risk dragging Sirius into this and potentially revealing his location to the Aurors. There was nothing Remus could do, given his werewolf status. He had made that heartbreakingly clear two years ago. He refused to burden the Weasleys, who would just turn him over to Dumbledore anyway. He considered asking if he could stay with Hermione over the summer, but he’d be easy to find there too, plus he didn’t want to get her in trouble.
“Hello, Harry.”
“Fuck!” Harry jumped up and spun so fast he almost fell down again. When he saw the white-haired Ravenclaw, he relaxed. His shoulder protested at the sudden movement and he hoped Luna didn’t catch the slight grimace on his face. “Sorry, Luna. You scared the socks off me.”
Luna looked at his feet. “No, I didn’t.”
“Right, well,” Harry cleared his throat. Hopefully in the moonlight it wasn’t that obvious that he had been sitting here by himself crying. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t think it is,” Luna said, walking closer. “You have a lot of Jumblers around your hair, Harry.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Harry sighed, sitting back on the grass. Luna waited a few seconds before she came down to join him.
“And Waterwhetz,” the girl said. “And you’re in pain.”
Harry’s eyes shot to hers. “What?”
“Your shoulder hurts,” she said, looking directly at the injury. Harry wondered briefly if there was some invisible little creature flying around, showing Luna where he was hurt.
“Luna,” Harry started, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Okay?”
“That doesn't sound like you’re fine,” Luna said. “It’s something a not fine person would say. You should go see-”
“I’m not going to Madam Pomfrey,” Harry muttered. “So don’t ask.”
Luna blinked. “You should go see Professor Snape.”
Harry felt a laugh of ridiculousness bubble up in his chest. Out of all the people Luna could have chosen, she chose the least likely person on the list. Still… Harry couldn’t help but wonder why. It was either a ‘Luna Thing’ or she had a reason - Harry could never tell.
Still, Harry couldn’t think of a single logical reason to go see Professor Snape for a shoulder injury.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen, Luna,” Harry said. “If you haven’t noticed, I made the top of Snape’s Most Hated Students list in my first year. Hell, my first day .”
“Professor Snape doesn’t hate any students,” Luna said. “He helps them. He helped me.”
Harry turned to face her. “Helped you how?”
Luna looked out at the water, her dusk blue eyes could have easily been dropped onto her face from the moonlight itself. It would explain the things she could see. Her eyes were staring at the lake, but her gaze seemed to see miles beyond the far shore.
“I don’t know if he could heal your shoulder,” Luna said, her eyes still on the lake. “But he could make sure it isn't hurt again.”
Responding to Luna Lovegood was nothing short of impossible for the mere mortal such as himself. She could be impossibly vague.
“I wish it was that simple,” Harry whispered to her, or maybe to himself. “Don’t you ever wish you could just… sail out on the lake and never have anything to worry over?”
“I do sometimes,” Luna put her hand on top of his. If any other girl did such a thing, he figured his cheeks would get terribly red. But things like this were different with Luna. He wondered if that’s what it felt like to have a little sister. “But then I remember the people who’d miss me if I sailed away.”
Harry nodded.
“I’d miss you if you sailed away, Harry.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “I’d miss you, too.”
Luna smiled, but didn’t make any move to leave. She was just content to sit with him and watch the water. Harry was grateful that Luna wasn’t the kind of person who needed to fill every type of silence with talking or noise. She could enjoy the silence like it was meant to be enjoyed.
What she had said before had rattled him and he prayed she didn’t know anymore than nagging suspicion. If she was implying what he thought she was… well, hopefully she wouldn’t take her concerns elsewhere.
Because Harry had heard about it. He had known about it since his second hour of first year. The word around the school was, if you were having problems at home, Snape was the Professor to go to. Even the twins admitted it was true, grudgingly, of course - Yeah, he’s still a git, but everyone knows he’s the guy those abused kids go to.
‘Those abused kids’ wasn’t really a category Harry fell under. He knew the Dursleys were horrible, but nothing they did had crossed the line of… that.
But he had considered it. He really had. The thought of what happened with Mrs. Lacy was the only thing holding him back from asking someone where Professor Snape’s office was. But then he had met the man, and the man hated him before he got a word in edgewise. His hope in finding solace with Professor Snape was shattered in his first potions class. Then he had spoken to Ms. McGonagall. Then Dumbledore. Then he gave up and accepted a new plan.
He had wanted to keep his homelife and school life separate until he turned seventeen and could move away from the Dursleys forever. It was a good plan. He wasn’t ever happy there, but he could grit his teeth and bare it for a few more years.
But then there was the smell of dirt, cold grass, laughter - the things he wasn’t thinking about. He fucking hated them. More than he hated Voldemort or his Death Eaters or… or anything else. Just the thought of the thought of them made him sick to his stomach. Now, because of - laughter, grass - he had to come up with a plan before summer. And it had to be a damn good one too.
A plan that got him away from the Dursleys without ever saying why he needed to be away from the Dursleys. If such a thing existed.
~0~0~0~0~
It was a long weekend and Severus had taken Draco back to Malfoy Manor for the three days. It wasn’t common practice, but Draco being his Godson did give him a few privileges, despite what he’s told the boy. In the eyes of the law, a Godparent is second only to the actual parents, above even a grandparent.
Severus had the option to take Draco with him, off school grounds, if he so chose. He also had permission to allow Draco in his private chambers and his potion lab - perks that Draco had enjoyed since his first year.
“He’s got that book again, Severus,” Lucius said quietly to him. “He’s certain about it all. I’m worried it’ll crush him if he doesn’t inherit.”
Severus nodded. Ever since Draco had learned his parents had both come into their Veela inheritances, he had been obsessed with the concept. And he had the features - the moonlight blonde hair, the silver eyes, the porcelain complexion, the slender build. However, those were all also features of his parents that could have nothing to do with being a Veela. The boy had Veela blood either way.
“You’ve spoken with him?”
“Numerous times,” Lucius tapped his cane. For appearing in public as such a strict and distant man, Lucius spent a good lot of his time worrying over his son. Severus was certain he mothered the boy more than his actual mother did. “He won’t even accept the possibility that he isn’t a Veela.”
“I wonder why he’s so enchanted by it,” Severus mused. “He knows he wouldn’t disappoint you or Narcissa.”
Lucius nodded his assent. “I think it’s the idea of a mate.”
Severus turned to his friend. “Is that so?”
“He talks about it,” Lucius admitted. “He… and I haven’t said this to him of course… but he sounds like a Veela when he talks about them.”
“Perhaps he’s already met them, if he is a Veela, that is.”
“I don’t know,” Lucius said. “Maybe. If he regularly spoke with them it might push him into an early inheritance, like what happened with Cissa. It would be harder to tell if he’s just been passing them in the halls.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him - and anyone he’s keeping an eye on.”
“Thank you, Severus.”
~0~0~0~0~
Herbology had been a nightmare and Harry prayed that potions would be slightly better. In the term of their short class, the Five and A Third Petal Grymgrass had reached the end of its life cycle. It had been on Hogwarts grounds for 43 years, he had heard another student say.
Neville had been in a sorry state once he realized what was going on. The plant had gone from its vibrant purple to a rotten brown in only a few minutes. So today’s Herbology was a plant funeral instead of a lesson. Not that Harry minded too much, it gave him a break. He just wished it hadn’t made Neville so upset.
Potions still had a good five minutes before the bell, which would hopefully give Neville enough time to pull himself together.
“Heard what happened in Herbology, mate,” Ron said apologetically when Harry slid into the seat beside him. “That sounded rough.”
“You should’ve seen Neville,” Harry said, setting out his books. “Where’s Hermione?”
Ron rolled his eyes. “With Neville. He came in a few minutes ago asking if she’d help bury it.”
“I think it’s called retiring.”
“Merlin, just because Hermione’s not here doesn’t mean you have to start sounding like her.”
“You don’t mind the way she sounds when she’s doing your homework for you,” Harry shot back.
Ron glared at him but before he could form a retort, the Slytherin side of the classroom spoke up.
Why Snape scheduled doubles with Slytherin and Gryffindor, Harry would never understand. Probably for the sadistic pleasure of taking all the lion’s house points and giving them to the snakes.
“I bet that’s not all she’s doing for you, Weasley!” A fifth year Slytherin - Eli Lendergrass - called out, causing an uproar of snickers.
Ron’s face flushed as Harry muttered, “ignore them.”
“Yeah, Weasley,” Pansy piped up. “I bet that Mudblood of yours-”
“Shut your mouth!” Ron shouted at her. “How dare you, you pug-faced -”
“Mr. Weasley.”
And then, of course, there was Snape, coming in at just the wrong time. Or maybe he had been listening behind the door until the moment Ron retaliated to come billowing in.
“Professor,” Ron scrambled to explain. “She was calling-”
“I don’t remember asking you,” Snape said, his tone clipped. “15 points from Gryffindor for insulting a fellow student. Another ten for shouting in my classroom.”
Ron looked ready to kill someone, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Eli and Pansy both smirked at him, knowing they’d gotten away with murder, again. But oddly enough… Harry caught Malfoy’s silver eyes for just a moment. He wasn’t joining in on the smirking and teasing as usual. His face was unreadable, to Harry at least, but he didn’t look amused.
Maybe Malfoy was having an off day. Did entitled Slytherin Princes get off days?
Snape got on with the lesson after that, barking orders at people and glaring over his and Ron’s cauldron like he was willing it to explode.
“This should be simple to those of you who read last night’s chapter,” he nodded to the Slytherins with that. “And exceedingly difficult for those who thought it below you,” and he glared at the Gryffindors with that. “Just remember to crush the bettleworms before adding them. I have no desire for a trip to the infirmary today.”
And then something really interesting happened. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry caught sight of Eli rolling a not crushed beetleworm between his fingers and eyeing their potion. Harry was just getting ready to cover the top of the cauldron, when he realized he didn’t need to.
Malfoy had snatched the ingredient from and was saying something to the other Slytherin - and he didn’t look happy. Eli looked like he was explaining, but Malfoy wasn’t budging. Did Malfoy have some sort of monopoly on causing Harry and his friends trouble? He never made a fuss about it before.
Harry caught Snape eyeing the exchange, but like with most actions from the Slytherins, he didn’t intervene.
Malfoy couldn’t have stopped him from the kindness of his heart - so why did he? He’d consult Hermione about it later. For now, he had to focus on ensuring Ron didn’t blow them both up.
~0~0~0~0~
Harry was at the lake again, a book open beside him and a notepad balanced on his knees. His grades had actually picked up with the extra studying he had been doing. He thought Hermione was going to explode from happiness when she saw his first round of essay grades. Then she had started in on Ron with see, if Harry can do it, so can you.
Thanks, Hermione.
“Dirty humansss,” Harry watched a small black snake hiss as it slithered by. He usually let them go without saying anything but…
“Hey, I just showered today, you know.”
The little snake whipped around and regarded Harry with intelligent yellow eyes.
“A sssspeaker?”
“A sssspeaker,” Harry confirmed. “How’ssss it going?”
What else was he going to say to a snake?
“The hunting issss fantasssstic today, ssspeaker.”
“Sss’good to hear.”
“Why are you ssssad, powerful sssspeaker?”
Harry looked at him. What was he going to do - tell anyone else? Judge him?
“Life’ssss been hard lately,” Harry told him, tapping his quill against the paper, little ink dots appearing in the top corner. “With my family.”
“Leave them,” the snake advised. “Familiessss are for egg-nests.”
“I’m trying, but it’ssss not ssso ssssimple for me. I don’t know how to leave.”
“Poissssson them. Ssssstart a new family with a larger mate.”
Harry laughed. If only his life was as simple as a snake’s. Don’t like your family? Poison them and find yourself a new, larger mate.
Well, it was better than half the plans he came up with by himself, anyway. There was a pile of books by his bedside that would make Hermione proud. He was a wizard for crying out loud - there had to be something within one of Hogwarts prized books that allowed him to give muggles the slip.
Only the problem was, after he gave muggles the slip, he had to hide from the world’s most powerful wizard and… everyone else for that matter.
~0~0~0~0~
Draco had walked out of class confused. Not by the subject material, of course. The potion was rather easy in the grand scheme of things. Just a freshening potion that his Godfather had tweaked to last longer. When he had noticed Eli - Pansy’s new boyfriend - aiming to sabotage Potter and Wessel’s potion, he had felt a surge of anger filter throughout his person.
Which was odd, because he had sabotaged the Golden Trio’s potions plenty of times himself. Maybe it was due to the fact he didn’t particularly like Eli Lendergrass. But that’s not what it felt like. The problem was he didn’t know what it felt like.
“I cannot believe that wolf is teaching us Defense again,” Blaise was walking with him, grumbling about Lupin again. The other Slytherin had been furious when news dissolved around the train about Hogwarts new old DADA Professor. “He’s even got himself a little assistant for the younger years.”
“So I’ve heard.” Draco said. The younger years had been whispering about Defense all year long. As much as he resented Lupin being a Professor, he had to admit his lessons weren’t terrible. “Do you know who?”
“Who else,” Blaise asked sarcastically. “Potter. Which Professor’s playing favorites now, right?”
So Potter was the assistant he had heard about. Interesting. He knew first hand that Potter was skilled at DADA, but usually positions of teaching assistance were reserved for seventh years. Though he couldn’t be too surprised, as he knew Potter and Lupin had some sort of personal relationship.
Though, with the way the younger years spoke, Potter was doing a good job.
“Draco?”
Draco glanced over. “Yes?”
“I say we, em, interfere?” Blaise smile with Slytherin wit. “How does a slow-acting tripping spell on Potter’s shoelaces sound?”
“Have you lost the plot, Zambini?” Draco whispered angrily. “You could kill him that way.”
Blaise raised an eyebrow. “I think a tripping spell is a far throw from murder.”
“Not if he’s teaching Defense ,” Draco said. “He’ll be demonstrating spells, perhaps even dueling.”
“If a tripping spell is enough to do him in-”
“I said we aren’t doing it,” Draco’s eyes dared his friend to say otherwise. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Blaise spoke up again.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you this year, Draco,” Blaise said. “But, frankly, it’s concerning.”
“What is?”
“You.” Now that there were in a more secluded stretch of hall, Blaise stopped and turned to him. Those dark eyes looking for something, but obviously not finding it. “First you won’t let us go confront Potter on the train, then you stop Eli from messing with him in potions, and now you won’t even entertain the idea of playing a little joke on him?”
“Perhaps I’ve grown out of those games,” Draco said stiffly. He didn’t want to be asked these questions because, well, he couldn’t answer them.
“I don’t believe you,” Blaise said. “I’m asking as your friend, Draco. If you want us to lay off Potter, we will. You know that right?”
Draco nodded. Did he want them to lay off Potter?
“I’d just like to know why, that’s all,” Blaise shrugged.
Draco couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit bad about keeping his friends out of the loop. Even if, as it stood, he himself was also out of the loop. Blaise was his closest friend in Hogwarts - ever since he sat next to the boy on the train in their first year.
They had grown even closer after Blaise hadn’t passed Severus’s medical spell. Blaise had spent a fair amount of time at his parents house while his home situation was worked out. Even now, Blaise usually stayed over for a few weeks in the summer.
“We can discuss it more later,” Draco settled on and Blaise accepted the dismissal for what it was.
The walk back to the dorms was a silent, contemplative one.
Draco had tried to dismiss the incident and put everything with Potter out of his mind. He still hated the castle’s most famous celebrity, but maybe he had been truthful when he told Blaise he was growing out of their little school years rivialy.
Why the hell did that make him so dejected?
He remembered the first time he ever saw Potter, running around with that blood-traitor his father was always going on about. He had offered his friendship - which wasn’t something a Malfoy did easily - and he was rejected. Flat. Outright. Rejected.
He had been upset over it for weeks. Even though his parents assured him there were much better friends awaiting him at Hogwarts. Even though his Godfather had growled out that the boy sounded just like his father had - spoiled, entitled, and arrogant. Their words emboldened him - he didn’t need to be friends with Potter. But… he couldn’t help but find himself around the boy all the time. So, if he couldn’t be friends, he made them enemies.
It made sense anyway - the Great Rivalry, Slytherin and Gryffindor, Half-Blood and Pureblood, Silver and Black, Potter and Malfoy.
Maybe they were too old for the Great Rivalry now.
It was just his luck that Potter was making use of the Quidditch field when he wanted to use it. But, Potter had already seen him and Draco wasn’t about to back down from a confrontation. Perhaps breath some life back into the great rivalry.
“Well, Potter,” Malfoy stepped forward. The Gryffindor was on the ground, fiddling around with his broomstick’s tail. “Trying to polish up, are we? Not that you have much to polish.”
“What do you want, Malfoy?” The other boy asked tiredly. It was wrong. Potter wasn’t supposed to be tired. He was supposed to jump up and start fighting with him.
“Use of the field, what else?” Malfoy tapped his foot.
Potter looked at him like he was dumb, waving his hand behind him. “Have at it.”
“Aren’t you practicing?”
Potter smoothed out his broomstick once more before standing. “I just finished.”
“What has been going on with you, Scarhead?” Malfoy eyed him suspiciously. “I know you’re up to something. And, trust me, Potter, I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m not up to anything, Ferret,” Potter glared, which was more like it. “When’s your daddy going to tell you the world doesn’t wake up just to please Draco Malfoy.”
Draco’s shoulders tingled. Draco Malfoy. Had Potter ever said his first name before? Draco couldn’t recall.
“Whatever,” Potter tucked his firebolt under an arm and started to stomp off.
Draco was not finished with this conversation. Draco didn’t really intend to, but as Potter walked by him, he grabbed the other boy’s arm, intent on spinning him around to continue their not-really-but-sort-of argument.
He hadn’t expected Harry to stumble towards him.
“Ah ,” Potter gasped, just barely catching himself. His firebolt clattered to the ground as he pressed his right hand against his left shoulder.
“I didn’t grab you that hard, Potter!” Draco defended. His hand felt like it had been burned and heat spread out across his neck and back. Had he grabbed him too hard - he couldn’t have! He wasn’t trying to hurt Harry.
“It wasn’t you,” Harry said through his teeth. He was taking deep, body-steadying breaths. “It’s fine.”
“I’ve always assumed you were dull,” Draco said, his eyes on the crazy Gryffindor before him. “But now I have proof. What happened?”
“And you care because…?”
“Because I…” Because he made it worse, he caused him hurt when he didn’t mean to, he had no idea what was going on. “Because you look like you’re about to faint on the grass and I will not be charged with the Golden Boy’s untimely death.”
“I fell wrong,” Harry mumbled, his breath finally even. “Just now, during practice.”
“The field is empty , Potter, and you still manage to knock yourself out, huh?” Draco shook his head. Gryffindors. “Well, I’m sure Madam Pomfrey will have room for her favorite idiot.”
“Right.”
“Do…,” But then he stopped short. Was he just about to ask Potter if he needed help going to the infirmary? “Are you leaving or do you plan to take up the field all day?”
“Leaving,” Harry scooped up his broom. “Watch your left, Malfoy.”
“Pardon?”
“You drop it,” Potter considered. “When you make a right turn, you always drop your left.”
“Oh,” silver eyes met green. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
Draco watched the injured boy leave. He wasn’t walking like someone with an injury as severe as Potter’s seemed to be. Draco had seen Potter get hurt over the years, but he never had that kind of reaction.
Draco didn’t think of Potter as someone who exaggerated an injury for sympathy. But it’s not like he cared . Madam Pomfrey could deal with whatever was bothering him.
Draco mounted his broom and for the entirety of the time, he kept a close eye on his left.
~0~0~0~0~
Harry wasn’t exactly feeling confident in his plan, but it was better than nothing. In the library he had found The Brilliant Young Witch’s Guide to Nights Away . It was mostly filled with social protocols of pureblood nightlife - which in itself was odd - but there was one chapter that had caught Harry’s eye.
Chapter 13: Clever With Lies and Illusions
There was a holographic spell that was meant to trick The Brilliant Young Witch’s parents into thinking she was asleep when she wasn’t. What was very interesting about the spell is that it could bear physical weight - such as a blanket, but it couldn’t be touched by human hands, or it would dissolve.
If Harry could find a way to tie his magical signature to this spell, he could trick the wards into thinking he was still there. And if he put his invisibility cloak over the illusion, the Dursleys would be none the wiser. He’d have to figure out some way to test it, but he had all year for that.
Though, the sooner the better, just in case it needed touching up. Not for the first time, he wished he could consult Hermione about this.
With that thought in mind and with classes done for the day, Harry slid the book in his backpack and slipped out of the library.
The Astronomy tower was the best place to test his theory, Harry thought.
Harry just needed this to work. Everything felt so different lately. Ron and Hermione were still as they always were, but they felt more distant this year. Although, that distance was probably his own doing. Luna was… she scared Harry. She knew things that others didn’t and she could see things others couldn’t. She had caught onto his shoulder immediately. He was worried about what else she knew and if she would tell anyone. Especially after that ‘Professor Snape helped me’. Which, in itself was concerning because it told him that Luna had needed help but he respected her enough not to ask. He didn’t know what Luna thought she knew, but when she had said Snape could make sure he wasn’t hurt again… well, he’d have to keep a close eye on her.
Then there was Malfoy and his odd behavior. Between him saving his potion and him urging him to see Madam Pomfrey, Harry didn’t understand the Slytherin anymore. He wondered if Malfoy would keep the shoulder injury to himself. Harry probably wasn’t that lucky.
It wasn’t that he was… embarrassed, per say. About his shoulder. It was just that these things usually healed. This was a Dursley-injury and he had never needed magical healing for one of those before. And this particular injury… he was...fuck, he was scared as hell that Madam Pomfrey might know how he got it - as ridiculous as that sounded. But Harry didn’t know the ins and outs of magical healing and…
Breath. Harry wasn’t thinking about the Dursleys, therefore he wasn’t thinking about his shoulder. His attention turned back to the task at hand.
He had a basic idea of how the wards Dumbledore put up informed him of Harry’s presence and safety. They couldn’t possibly tell the man when he had been hurt, but they told him if he had died. If he tied his magical signature to the hologram and then pushed it off the Astronomy tower, it should make the wards go off. And if the wards went off, that meant they worked.
Hopefully.
Relaxing his shoulders with a slight wince, Harry drew his wand and waved it in front of himself.
Up with a sharp curve left - Illusio
Down and to the right - Incarnate
Flicked straight ahead - Persona
There was a flicker of light and then - he was staring at himself. Only, upon closer inspection, the colours were faded, like an old blanket ran through the wash too many times. His face was also a little blurry, like looking into a foggy mirror, but it didn’t need to be perfect. It just needed to be able to be traced with magic.
Harry raised his right arm, almost expecting the spell to act like a mirror, but it stood unmoving. It was the strangest thing to be staring at himself - a dull, washed out, dead - version of himself. He wondered if that’s what he’d look like when he died.
Harry cast the warding spell over the illusion and watched the red light settle and sink into it’s fake skin. Fingers crossed, Harry pushed the illusion over the Astronomy tower’s edge.
Then he heard the scream.
“Harry!”
~0~0~0~0~