263Chapter 7: Snape's Lesson
Chapter 7
Snape's Lesson
"I told you the dementors were a horrible idea," James said to the Minister. They were both in the Minister's Office, along with Lucius Malfoy, who was watching intently in a corner, as well as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, Dolores Umbridge. James was standing, his fists on the table as he leaned towards the sitting Fudge, whose eyes were glancing around.
"Yes, well—it was to be expected that there would be a few hiccups. …"
"Hiccups!?" James roared, slamming the desk with his fists again. "My son almost died Cornelius!"
"Yes, well Hogwarts can sometimes be a er dangerous place—why, why, just last month Lucius' son here was assaulted by a hippogriff, isn't that correct Lucius?" Fudge asked.
"Yes, Minister, and we are having the paperwork to deal with it done as we speak," Lucius nodded. "Though, I must admit there is a difference between hippogriffs and dementors."
"A difference in that one of them is a dark creature, Fudge," James said, gritting his teeth. "And it attacked my son during a Quidditch Match."
"Yes, well—"
"He was at least a hundred feet from the air, if Dumbledore did not intervene he would not have survived the crash!" James said.
"Yes, it is a fortunate thing that your son survived," Fudge said. "But one little incident should not ruin months of planning and preparations."
"Planning and preparation!? For what?" James yelled. "The dementors are only causing trouble at Hogwarts, and I want them gone before some dementors gives a student the Dementor's Kiss!"
"Hmm-hmm," a sickening sweet voice said, as she cleared her throat. The three men turned their attention to the sole woman in the room. She gave them a sweet smile, her toadish face stretching as her eyes landed on James. "I believe, that only the Ministry can order the Dementors to give the Dementor's Kiss, Mr. Potter. And if the Ministry does not give the order, than the Dementors would never give the Dementor's Kiss. We hold a tight leash on these creatures Mr. Potter, and lack of faith in that leash shows lack of faith in the Minister, and the Ministry as a whole. A quality that I believe is undesirable in one of our best Aurors."
James glared at Umbridge. "Have you dealt with dementors, Dolores?" he asked. She remained silent, so he continued. "Because I have, and let me tell you, the Ministry does not have complete control over these creatures. These are Dark Creatures, and they will only respond to having people to feed off of."
"It is, though I hate to admit it," Lucius said, "only logical that the dementors would go to where the most excitement is."
"Yes, yes, I have heard all of this from Dumbledore," Fudge said. He looked at James and said, "I cannot deal with this now, I have too much to deal with right now, including that rogue hippogriff that has assaulted Mr. Malfoy's son. I will deal with this situation later, so please go back to your office."
"Fudge—"
"Go back Mr. Potter!" Fudge roared. James gave one final huff and glare at both Umbridge and Fudge before leaving the office. He barely heard the door open and close behind him as Lucius followed him.
"That was a show you've played in there, Potter," Lucius said.
James just glared at Lucius. "What do you want, Malfoy?" he asked.
Lucius chuckled. "A simple talk Potter, surely you are educated enough for that. I just want to commend you on bringing the situation to the Minister. Though, it could use some certain tact." James just gave Lucius a sharp look. "You know that the Minister have been working on this little project for more than a year. Hogwarts will prove that he is wrong, though shoving it in his face like that… well, it will only make the bull more stubborn."
"So, why you telling me this Malfoy?" James asked, walking briskly. Lucius kept with the pace, his strides matching James's.
"You said that dementors are dark creatures, and I believe you are correct," he said.
"Yeah, you'll know a lot about dark creatures, don't you Malfoy?"
Lucius chuckled and said, "I have been freed of those charges, and you really should be more considerate to people trying to help you."
"Help me?"
"Yes," Lucius said. "I have agreed that the dementors at Hogwarts is a situation that needs addressing. But, Cornelius currently have other things to occupy himself as he ignores the problem."
"Really?" James asked in disbelief, suspiciously staring at Lucius. Lucius ignored the look and said, "Yes. Now, if you excuse me I am terribly busy. Good day Potter."
James watched as Lucius Malfoy turned a corner and walked away from him. James waited until Malfoy was gone before he softened his face, the glare going away. Suddenly feeling exhausted, he decided to go back to his office.
Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. He didn't argue or complain, but he wouldn't let her throw away the shattered remnants of his Nimbus Two Thousand. He knew he was being stupid, knew that the Nimbus was beyond repair, but Harry couldn't help it; he felt as though he'd lost one of his best friends.
He hadn't told anyone about the Grim, not even Ron and Hermione, because he knew Ron would panic and Hermione would scoff. And then there were the dementors. Harry felt sick and humiliated every time he thought of them. Everyone said the dementors were horrible, but no one else collapsed every time they went near one. No one else heard echoes in their heads of their dying mother.
It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday, where he was forced to think about other things, such as that bet with Blaise, or the odd look from Malfoy he was getting from across the Great Hall. He was happy to return to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but that happiness quickly evaporated when he saw Professor Snape standing behind the teacher's desk instead of Professor Lupin-Black. "Sit down," he drawled as the confused students filtered in.
"Where's Professor Lupin-Black?" Harry asked.
"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," Snape said with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down."
Harry did not sit, he stayed where he was. "What's wrong with him?"
Snape's black eyes glittered. "Nothing life-threatening," he said, looking as though he wished it were. "Five points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."
Harry walked slowly to his seat and sat down. He glanced back to where Blaise and Draco were sitting, both of them looked concern, though Draco was just staring at him. Snape looked around at the class. "Professor Lupin-Black has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far—"
"Please, sir, we've done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows," Hermione said quickly, "and we're just about to start—"
"Be quiet," Snape said coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."
"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," Dean Thomas said boldy, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class. Snape looked more menacing than ever.
"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you—I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss—"
Harry watched him flick through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which he must knew they hadn't covered.
"—werewolves," Snape said.
"But sir," Hermione said, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinkypunks—"
"Miss Granger," Snape said in a voice of deadly calm, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394." He glanced around again. "All of you! Now!"
With many bitter sidelong looks and some sullen muttering, the class opened their books.
"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" Snape said.
Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone expect Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air.
"Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione's hand. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between—"
"We told you," Parvati said suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on—"
"Silence!" Snape snarled. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are. …"
"Please sir," Hermione said, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf—"
"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," Snape said coolly. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."
Hermione went very red, put down her hand, and stared at the floor with her eyes full of tears. It was a mark of how much the class loathed Snape that they were all glaring at him, because every one of them had called Hermione a know-it-all at least once, and Ron, who told Hermione she was a know-it-all at least twice a week, said loudly, "You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"
The class knew instantly he'd gone too far, but Harry swore he heard a snicker and looked back to see Blaise, who was now looking at Ron. Snape advanced on Ron slowly, and the room held its breath.
"Detention, Weasley," Snape said silkily, his face very close to Ron's. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."
No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. They sat and made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin.
"Very poorly explained … That is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia. …Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it three. …"
When the bell rang at last, Snape held them back. "You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Wednesday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention."
Harry and Hermione left the room with the rest of the class, who waited until they were well out of earshot, then burst into a furious tirade about Snape. Draco and Blaise broke from the rest of the Slytherins, who were glaring at the Gryffindors. Draco and Blaise walked past Harry, and Harry felt a piece of paper in his hand. He watched as the two walked past the group of Gryffindors, and turn a corner. He looked at the piece of paper and read, "Classroom down the hall. Ten minutes."
Ron caught up with them in a towering rage. "D'you know what that—(he called Snape something that made Hermione say "Ron!") "—is making me do? I've got to scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wing. Without magic!" He was breathing deeply, his fists clenched. "Why couldn't the dementors attack Snape instead of Harry, eh? They could have finished him off for us!"
Harry looked at his raging friend and took a step back. "I think I forgot something… I'll meet you guys later in the common room, alright?"
"Wha—yeah, alright Harry," Ron said, anger still in his voice. "Snape's gone so there's that."
Harry nodded and started to head back towards the classroom. He doubled back when he was sure Ron and Hermione wasn't in the corridor, and followed the path Draco and Blaise took. He went down the corridor, and found the classroom the note was talking about.
He opened the door to find both Draco and Blaise there, leaning against desks and talking softly to each other. "Harry!" Blaise said as Harry closed the door behind him. The Slytherin walked up to Harry, ignoring the glare Draco was giving him, and pulled the small Gryffindor into a hug. "Are you hurt? Are you all right? Draco and I wanted to visit you but with the Gryffindors swarming you, we didn't get a chance!" he said.
A smile broke Harry's face and his arms reached around Blaise's waist embarrassed. "I'm fine," he said. He looked over at Draco, and blushed when he saw an obvious look of jealousy on his face. "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" he asked.
"Mostly," Draco said, stepping towards them "But there is more, come sit." He indicated to his desk and gave Blaise a sharp look. He smiled when Blaise moved away from Harry, and Harry started moving to Draco's seat. Draco smirked when Harry sat down, and looked at him. "How are you feeling?" Draco asked softly.
"Fine… just very angry," Harry admitted.
"Because of Professor Snape?" Draco asked.
Harry nodded.
"Yeah, that… Snape," Harry said. He looked up at Draco with a small glare and said, "How can you guys defend that guy? He's vile! You saw how he treated Hermione and Ron!"
"Well—"
"No well!" Harry said, "It's cruel what's he's doing! Two rolls of parchment by Wednesday!? There's no way any of us can do that!" His cheeks were flustered as he ranted out his anger. "And do you know what he's making Ron do? He has to scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wing! Without magic!?"
"How is Weasley doing?" Blaise asked. Harry whipped his head as he turned to look at Blaise. "Is he… angry?"
"He's more than that," Harry told Blaise. "He's absolutely livid." Blaise frowned at that.
Draco got off of the desk and turned to face Harry. "Pot—Harry," he said. "Do you want to talk about what happened during the match?"
"I don't—sure… just don't laugh," Harry said. Draco smirked and said, "Me? Laughing at you Harry?"
Harry ignored the comment and said, "I couldn't see a thing, the rain was fogging my glasses and I could almost see the Snitch. Then, there was lightning and then I saw the dementors. They came close to me then… I err heard my mum. …"
"You heard your mother?" Draco asked softly.
"Yeah… I heard her begging You-Know-Who to kill her…instead, instead of me," Harry said. He looked up at Draco and saw that the Ice Prince was frowning.
"Didn't know that…" Draco murmured. Blaise took a step and said, "Harry… about our bet."
Harry looked at him and gave a smile. "Right, sorry bout that. Looks like I lost."
"Wait, you two had a bet?" Draco asked, looking between Harry and Blaise.
"Yeah," Harry said. "If I won the game, Blaise would do my homework, but if I lost we would have to spend time together down by the lake or something." He shrugged and looked at Blaise. "And he won."
"Really?"
"Yeah… well about that," Blaise said. "Since the dementors interfered… how about we hold the bet for the next game?"
"Are you sure?" Harry asked casually.
"Yeah," Blaise said. "Seems unfair, taking advantage of you like that."
"Yes, it would," Draco said, he turned to Harry and said. "You let him have a bet with you?"
"It's just a friendly bet," Harry said, looking at Draco confused. Draco shook his head as his nostrils flared. "Alright, but if he gets to have a bet with you, I would want one too."
"Umm okay…"
"The Slytherin/Gryffindor match is coming up," Draco said. "If we win, you'll do my Defense homework for three weeks."
"Okay…" Harry said, "And if I win?"
Draco smirked. "If you win, then we'll spend an entire day at Hogsmeade with use the two of us, and I will pay for whatever you want."
"In case you forgot, my dad didn't sign my permission form," Harry said. That caused Draco to laugh, his lips curved into a huge grin as he looked down at Harry. "You're a Potter," he said through his laughs. "And a Gryffindor. You'll find a way."
Harry couldn't argue with that, so he nodded. "Alright, it's a bet." He held out his hand for Draco to shake. Draco took it and brought it to his lips, kissing it. "A bet, Harry." He smirked.
Harry blushed as Draco pulled him up. "And after our bet," Draco added, "I would like for us to be seen in public."
"Y-Yeah… I'd like that," Harry said, his emotions controlling him as he blushed like a middle school girl. Draco smirked and said, "Good, I'd like that too."
Blaise rolled his eyes and groaned loudly. "I'm still here, idiots," he said. He turned to Harry and asked, "So… about Weasley… how is he? Does he normally get this angry or…"
"What? Why are you asking so much about Ron?" Harry asked, curious.
"Just am," Blaise shrugged.
"Well… not usually," Harry said. "But he gets frustrated easily with people like Snape." Blaise nodded and smiled at Harry, "Thanks—hey, we'll see you later? Alright Harry."
"Yeah, see you?" Harry said. Blaise left, leaving Harry and Draco by themselves. "Draco?" he asked, looking at him curiously.
Draco took a step forward and smiled at the teenaged Gryffindor. He looked as if he wanted to say something, and Harry waited until Draco talked. Draco opened his mouth and said, "Thank you Harry… for giving me a chance."
"You're welcome Draco," Harry said. Draco nodded and smiled. "I'll see you later Harry." He wiped his thumb across Harry's cheek and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Harry stood in his spot for nearly ten minutes before he felt his face was a reasonable non-red color. He felt his legs again, and made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He kept his breath somewhat calm as he played back what happened in the classroom. Draco touching him… kissing his hand. A thought past through his head, wishing that it was his lips Draco was kissing, or maybe… something else? Is that possible? A blush started to make its way across Harry's cheeks again, and he tried to control it.
"What happened to you?" the Fat Lady asked, noting Harry's blush.
"Fortuna Major," Harry said embarrassed. The portrait swung open with the Fat Lady laughing as he stepped through the portrait hole. He spotted Ron and Hermione by the fireplace and walked up to them.
"There you are, was wondering where you were, mate," Ron said as Harry sat down in an armchair. "Did you get your things?"
"What? Oh yeah… yeah, I got 'em," Harry said, momentarily forgetting the lie he told Ron and Hermione. Something sparked in him and he said, "I uh actually need to tell you something."
"What is it?" Hermione asked, looking up from her Arithmancy homework.
"Uhh…err—" Harry didn't know how to say it. He didn't know why he even was saying it. Just that Ron and Hermione were his best mates and this sneaking around… it felt like lying to them. "I honestly don't know how to say this," he admitted.
"Say what mate?"
Harry looked at both and them and leaned closer to the table. Hermione and Ron leaned closer as well and Harry opened his mouth and just blurted out, "I'm gay."
He wanted to close his eyes as he anticipated their reaction, but he didn't. His eyes refused to close as they roamed from Ron to Hermione. Ron's face was that of confusion at first, before he processed what Harry said, and a look of enlightenment emerged, a smile emerging from his face. Harry looked at Hermione, and frowned when she looked confused.
"That's cool mate," Ron said, nodding. "You're like George and Charlie." Harry just nodded and looked at Hermione. "Hermione?" he said cautiously.
"I'm sorry… but what's gay?" she asked. "I know that it can mean happy but… I don't think that's what you mean here. …"
"Oh," Harry said, embarrassed. "Well it uhh means that instead of liking… girls… I um like boys instead…?" He looked for Ron for help.
"It's like this Hermione," Ron said. "George explained it to me. He and Harry don't like girls… well not in the way our dads like our mums. Instead they like guys. Like Professor Lupin-Black and his husband."
"Ohh… I think I understand," Hermione said, looking less confused than she was. She looked at Harry and nodded. "So you like boys, instead of girls."
"Yes," Harry said.
"I see… okay then." Hermione said. "I didn't know that was a thing before here… is that just a wizards thing? Or are there gay muggles as well?" She asked, a curious look glinting in her eyes.
"Oh, err I don't know?" Harry said. "I guess so… obviously?"
"It's just that I never heard of such a thing," Hermione said quickly. "I mean, mum and dad may have mentioned it somewhere, but this is the first time actually experiencing such a thing—Do you think Professor Lupin-Black will answer a few questions for me?"
"I don't know," Harry shrugged. "Maybe if you asked."
Hermione nodded and went back to her homework, mumbling that maybe she should ask him. Harry looked at Ron who just looked back at him. "Charlie is too?" he asked.
"Yeah. Was the first to tell us," Ron said. "Should have seen mum's face. Looked like she would cry a lake and wouldn't let Charlie go."
"How did she handle George?" Harry asked.
"Same thing," Ron chuckled. "Though she looked at Fred expectantly."
"What did Fred say?" Harry said.
Ron smiled wide and said, "He waved his arms real fast and said, 'Just him mum just him!'" Ron and Harry laughed together, which got Hermione to scowl at them and tell them to start their homework.
"If Snape's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I'm skiving off," Ron said as they headed toward Lupin-Black's classroom after lunch. It was Wednesday, and Harry and Ron barely finished one roll of the assigned two rolls assignment. "Check who's in there, Hermione."
Hermione peered around the classroom door.
"It's okay!"
Professor Lupin-Black was back at work. It certainly looked as though he had been ill. His old robes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes; nevertheless, he smiled at the class as they took their seats, and they burst at once into an explosion of complaints about Snape's behavior while Lupin had been ill.
"It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?"
"We don't know anything about werewolves—"
"—two rolls of parchment!"
"Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" Lupin-Black asked, frowning slightly.
The babble broke out again.
"Yes but he said we were really behind—"
"—he wouldn't listen—"
"—two rolls of parchment!"
Professor Lupin-Black smiled at the look of indignation on every face. "Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay."
"Oh no," Hermione said, looking very disappointed. "I've already finished it!"
They had a very enjoyable lesson. Professor Lupin-Black had brought along a glass box containing a hinkypunk, a little one-legged creature who looked as though he were made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless-looking. When the bell rang, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door, Harry among them, but—
"Wait a moment, Harry," Lupin called. "I'd like a word."
Harry doubled back and watched Professor Lupin-Black covering the hinkypunk's box with a cloth. "I heard about the match," Lupin-Black said, turning back to his desk and starting to pile books into his briefcase, "and I'm sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?"
"No," Harry said. "The tree smashed it to bits."
Lupin-Black sighed.
"They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gungeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance."
"Dad told me about that too," Harry said. "You and he were in the same year right?" Lupin-Black nodded. Then, with great difficulty, Harry said, "Did you hear about the dementors too?"
Lupin looked at him quickly.
"Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time. … furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds. …I suppose they were the reason you fell?"
"Yes," Harry said. He hesitated, and then the question he had to ask burst from him before he could stop himself. "Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just—?"
"It has nothing to do with weakness," Professor Lupin-Black said sharply, as though he had read Harry's mind. "The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have."
"When I go near them," Harry said, staring at Lupin's desk, his throat tight. "I can hear You-Know-Who murdering my mum."
Lupin-Black made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Harry's shoulder, but thought better of it. There was a moment's silence, then—
"Why did they have to come to the match?" Harry said bitterly.
"They're getting hungry," Lupin-Black said coolly, shutting his briefcase with a snap. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of humans prey has dried up. …I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement… emotions running high …it was their idea of a feast."
"Azkaban must be terrible," Harry muttered. "Dad hates going there." Lupin-Black nodded grimly.
"The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks."
Harry nodded. "Whenever dad visits… it takes days before he's his happy self again."
"Yes, well, dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long. …"
"You made that dementor on the train back off," Harry said suddenly.
"There are—certain defenses on can use," Lupin-Black said. "But there was only one dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist."
"What defenses? Harry said at once. "Can you teach me?"
"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry … quite the contrary. … Your father on the other hand—"
"He won't teach me." Harry said, "And what if a dementor come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them—"
Lupin looked into Harry's determined face, hesitated, then said, "Well …all right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."
James Potter walked into his office at home, still fuming about what happened in the Minister's office.
"Hmpt, you look like you're brewing," said the portrait of Fleamont Potter, James's father and Harry's grandfather. His portrait consists of a single, very comfortable looking armchair which he liked to reside in, and a small table on which sat Fleamont's favorite books, most of which were about famous duels that changed the world. Fleamont himself looked strong for an old man, wearing a scarlet robe and matching hat, which covered his baldness. He was short, and looked to have knobby knees.
"Hello dad," James said as he sat down in his chair with a groan. He looked at the portrait and said, "What you're here for? Why aren't you in your painting at Potter Manor?"
"Because there are no Potters living in that place," Fleamont said. "And I have decided to come here and talk to someone living, instead of our ancestors. There are only so many times you can hear my great grandfather Charlus tell the same story without going mad. I mean, I developed the Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, and more than quadrupled our wealth, but you do not see me talk about it every day."
"That's because you would rather talk about the duels you fought in dad," James sighed as he turned towards his desk again. He opened up a drawer and pulled out some papers with a frown.
"So? They are more interesting than almost sleeping with a banshee," Fleamont chuckled. He looked at his son and frowned. "Tell me what's wrong."
"Where to begin?" James muttered bitterly.
"No muttering! Didn't your mother and I taught you that?" Fleamont snapped.
"Sorry dad," James said with a yawn. "Not in the mood. The Minister decided to put dementors in Hogwarts."
"What!? That's ludicrous! Dementors should stay at Azkaban where they belong!" Fleamont yelled.
"No need to tell me," James said. He turned to look at the portrait and said, "I told the Minister and Shaklebolt that it's dangerous countless times. And you know what happens? First Quidditch match of the season, and the damn dementors almost killed Harry!"
"They didn't!?" Fleamont said, getting outraged. "Why if I had a portrait at the Ministry I'll—well, times were so much better under Leonard Spencer-Moon, and Wilhelmina Tuft! Especially Wilhelmina Tuft … son was an idiot though, breeding Dementors, pah!"
"Dad, focus," James said. "Dementors made Harry fall from his broomstick during the match."
"Is the boy alright?" Fleamont asked.
"Yes he is, Dumbledore stopped his fall," James said. Fleamont nodded and muttered "Good man… good man. …" James ignored Fleamont's interruption and continued. "Yes, and after I made sure he was all right in the hospital wing, I went to Dumbledore's office to see him and the Minister having a shouting match."
"I hoped you added your mind there, boy," Fleamont said.
"I did," James said, "and this morning at the Ministry. You know what is strange though, is that Malfoy was there and he was agreeing with me!"
"A Malfoy agreeing with a Potter!" Fleamont exclaimed. "Why I thought I never see the day! What did you say that made the slimy snake to agree with you?"
"Basically that the dementors are dark creatures that the Ministry cannot fully control," James said.
"And you are right!" Fleamont said. "Those dementors are truly uncontrollable. They only move by instinct. It is almost laughable seeing the Ministry trying to control them like that. Laughable!"
"Yes, well it cannot be laughable when those fucking creatures almost kill my only son!"
"Language James!" Fleamont said, standing from his chair. "You are angry at your pitiful Ministry, but that is no reason to curse at your father."
"Yeah, well you're right I am angry!" James said, his anger slowly taking the best of him. "My son almost died because of Fudge's stupidity and instead he's looking at Malfoy's case where his idiot son went and got himself slashed by a hippogriff!"
"Did he die?" Fleamont asked.
"No, Malfoy's son is alive. Though, they're now talking about killing the hippogriff," James said.
"Shame. World could use one less Malfoy in the world, oh well," Fleamont shook his head. "Anyway, how is Harry doing in school? He better be doing better than you, James."
"Of course he is," James said. "He has his mother's talent in potions, and mine in Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Which you got from me!" Fleamont said. "Don't you be taking all the credit."
"Of course dad," James said dismissively. "Other than that… he's doing okay in his other subjects. He really likes Care of Magical Creatures, but I think only because Hagrid is teaching it."
"The half-giant, yes," Fleamont nodded. "You better tell me he's coming over for Christmas."
"Of course he is!" James said. "He came home his first or second year. Though, he might stay at Hogwarts… now being a teenager you know," he smirked at his dad.
"No I wouldn't, I haven't been a teenager in over eighty years," Fleamont declared. "Well, if he comes home, he better be talking about a girl. Nice to know the Potter line will be continuing."
"I'm sure it'll continue dad, don't worry," James said, not feeling like working anymore.
"Hmpt. Well, hopefully he won't be indecisive like you were!" Fleamont said with a sudden distain.
"I wasn't indecisive!" James said.
"Of course you weren't," Fleamont nodded. "Do you to tell the ancestors anything?"
"Just tell mum I love her, and still working on getting her portrait here," James said.
Fleamont laughed. "Great! Now we can both annoy you while you work. See you James." And with that, the old man stood up from his armchair and walked towards the edge of the portrait, disappearing as he walked through it. All that was left was an empty armchair, and the small pile of books on a small table.
James gave an exhausted sigh and looked down at the picture of Lily on his desk. "Saw Remus yesterday," he told the motionless picture. "Must have been a full moon recently. … He's married now you know? He and Sirius. … have a kid." The room turned quiet as he stared at the photo. "Think I should write to them?"
There was a meow and he looked down to see Snuffles brushing against his leg. James bent down to pick him up. "What do you think Snuffles?" he asked.
The cat just meowed again and he nodded, "Yeah… nah."
He dropped his cat near the floor, and watched as he ran away out the door. With the cat gone, and his moment of reflection done, James bent his back and started again on his work, uninterrupted by distance thoughts and cats.
Harry's mood took a definite upturn the next few days. Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match at the end of November, and Professor Lupin-Black had agreed to give him anti-dementors lessons. Gryffindor were not out of the running after all, although they could not afford to lose another match. Wood became repossessed of his manic energy, and worked his team as hard as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December. Harry had received and given multiple letters to his dad, the last one asking if he was coming home for Christmas. Harry had thought about it, but decided to stay in the castle, though he was worried that his father would be alone with Snuffles on Christmas. James responded that he wouldn't, though he loved his son's concerns, and that he would spend Christmas Eve with some friends, and possibly visit Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for a bit on Christmas Day. He promised to send them Harry's love, and wished him a Happy Christmas.
Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays. Both Ron and Hermione had decided to stay at Hogwarts with Harry, Ron saying he couldn't stand two weeks Percy, and Hermione insisted she needed to use the library.
To everyone's delight except Harry's, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term. "We can do all our Christmas shopping there!" Hermione said. "Mum and Dad would really love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!"
The day before the trip, Harry and Draco met in secret, sitting in a deserted corridor. The statues and suits of armor all were dusted with snow. It seemed that someone had turned the statue's weapons into giant candy canes, and charmed them to sing Christmas carols whenever a student passed by. "So… Christmas is coming," Draco said.
"Yeah," Harry nodded. He looked at Draco and frowned, "It feels like I'm lying."
"What does?"
"Everything. Hanging out with you in secret, not telling dad that I'm friends with Slytherins, … telling him that I like boys rather than girls. …"
Draco frowned and said, "Harry, one rule is that you must never be sad in my company."
Harry smirked and couldn't help but snicker, "Excuse me?"
"See, better. As for your… lying. You're not lying Harry," Draco said. "You're just not telling the true yet. But if it bothers you so much… I'll find a way to help it."
"You will?" Harry asked.
Draco nodded. "Sure. In fact, I think I know the perfect thing that will help."
"What is it?" Harry asked. Draco smirked at him and shook his head. "Sorry Potter, but I will not tell you."
"Why not?"
"Because you'll have to wait till Christmas, you impatient brat," Draco chuckled.
"If I'm so much of a brat, then why you hang out with me?" Harry smirked. The more Harry and Draco hung out together, the more Harry got used to the Slytherin's snide comments.
Draco smirked and said, "Well, brat, it may be because you're a cute lion whom would get me in so much trouble with my parents." Harry blushed at being called 'cute'—" And also because, believe it or not I genuine enjoy being in your company, Harry."
"Well… I enjoy being in your company as well," Harry admitted.
"Of course you would," Draco said. "I am the Ice Prince of Slytherin! I practically run the entire House."
"Oh really?"
"How else did I get Crabbe and Goyle to keep them from following me?" Draco asked with a cocky smirk. "I command, they do. Simple as that."
"Even Blaise?" Harry asked chuckling.
"Blaise? No I can never control Zabini," Draco said. "I can never control my friend."
"Really?" Harry asked. Draco shrugged, "I'm a nice guy Potter, honestly."
Harry laughed and said, "I know you are Draco. It's just surprising how much power you have in Slytherin."
"What can I say?" Draco said, with a smirk, "I love being in control." A shiver went down Harry's spine, though he does not know why. He just smiled and nodded, feeling like Draco had another meaning to his words, but Harry couldn't understand them.
"So what do you want for Christmas?" he asked Draco.
"You don't need to get me anything," Draco said.
"I want to, it's unfair if I don't," Harry said.
Draco gave Harry a sharp look. "I do not want anything from you for Christmas Harry. Do not worry about it."
Harry returned the look and shook his head. "Whatever you say Draco."
Draco, believing he had won, smirked and stood up. He pulled Harry with him and again kissed his hand, an act that was quickly becoming a habit between the two. "Well then Harry, I will see you after holidays. Happy Christmas Harry."
"Happy Christmas Draco."
A/N: Took a while but we are here! Sorry for the break, really wanted to finish my year-long fic first. Thanks to everyone who have read and reviewed!
Poesjoeban: Hello my new friend! I'm so happy you're enjoying my works! And of course I'm continuing this story! Just took a little while writing this. As for chapter lengths… these are usually 5 thousand to 6 thousand words long (this one is almost 7!) But if you would like longer… I'll try! Who knows, next chapter might be Harry discovering something fun.
Laura: Yes, this is a Draco/Harry story. Blaise has eyes for another, though he doesn't know it, and I was actually thinking of making this a Draco/Harry/Blaise before I found the fourth boy.
MiniMarauder5: Yes, our sweet Harry is totally innocent and James is totally over-protective. But don't worry, that will all change! You'll see, it'll be great!
Kigen Dawn: You would think so, but no the bet is moved! And how can a cat buy a broom? You're so silly!
Littlesprout: Well, there's always next game lol
MagnificentFern: Hello old friend! And you're right, at this point Blaise would make a better boyfriend. Hopefully Draco can change his ways! Or, you know, threesome relationship.
Sasuhinas fan: Ah yes, very sweet lol. And yeah… the wedding ruined their relationship, but there is one more factor… a factor that I will not reveal until later.
Jokul Frosti: I love chocolate! In more ways than one. And James would have some very pretty words.
Annabeth Volturi: Hello, yeah half the reason is obvious, and maybe we'll see where he got that part from. And Ron and Hermione will learn in time with Harry's friendships, right now Harry wants to revel in his rebellion against his father. And you're right, James really needs to have someone knock him over the head. Who will that someone be? Hmmmmm….
Super MKatR: If you don't mind me asking, why would being a girl prevent you from reading slash? Did you know that the main audience of slash is girls? (Though I secretly wish it was cute guys)
Zatsune D LawLuFan: You're very welcome. And yes, Draco is very juicy. If you know what I mean.
Ern: You're great!
Flye Autumne: I'm glad you like the way I'm characterizing James. For some reason, it's rare.