Chapter Two

Hermione met up with the boys in the common room, as she had said. She saw Ron’s appreciative gaze lingering on the fine cut of her robes – she knew she had never been the most beautiful of women, nor would she ever be, but she did know how to accentuate what she had. She smiled widely. Ron held out his arm to her, and she chuckled at his chivalry.

“Don’t you two look quite the couple,” Molly Weasley said, coming up to them with a rather great smile.

Hermione and Ron blushed slightly, but Ginny entered the room and saved them from having to answer. The youngest Weasley looked vibrantly beautiful, her red hair flaring and her eyes sparkling. Neville met her at the base of the stairs, taking her hand and kissing her cheek.

“You look lovely,” Neville whispered to Ginny, who smiled more widely.

When Arthur Weasley arrived, with Hermione’s parents in tow, the company of people made their way downstairs for dinner. Her mum and dad looked rather wide-eyed still, and Hermione placed herself between Arthur and her parents, to give them some room to breathe. Arthur took his place by Molly’s side, and they spoke and laughed with their children as they descended the stairs.

Hermione glanced back at Harry.

He looks so lonely, she thought. With the parents at Hogwarts, Harry probably felt like a third wheel. She would have talked to him, had she thought he would want to talk about it, but he did not seem to want anyone mentioning it. He might mistake her questions for pity, although it was not. She was simply sad for him, that he did not have family the way she and Ron both did. Mrs. Weasley did her best to include him, but it seemed that it was not enough. Hermione could not imagine being in his place – her parents had always been there for her, a quiet support, even as she spent nine months a year away at a magical school.

"Come on Harry," she said, holding her hand out. Harry took it, without hesitation, and she wondered if she had imagined the look of loneliness as his face once more settled into a small smile.

Severus Snape sat in his seat at the High Table, watching the chaos before him. Parents, students, and the occasional teacher who had yet to sit down mingled together. They were loud. Very loud. Laughter and talk mingled, each person trying to make themselves heard, making the volume grow. Severus wondered for a moment how angry the Headmaster would be with him, if he cast a Silencing Charm over the entire Hall.

It would probably not go over too well.

He sighed and shot another nasty scowl at some random student – he did not care much which student, nor whether they were doing anything in particular wrong; he just felt they all deserved it at the moment.

I feel a headache coming on.

His gaze landed upon the Gryffindor table. It seemed like a small sea of red in the middle of the table, with the Weasley parents visiting their children. Next to them sat a man and a woman, both obviously Muggle from their clothing, and both with brown hair. The Granger parents, Snape decided. Xenophilius Lovegood sat with his daughter, speaking to Augusta Longbottom.

Potter sat and played with his goblet, tipping it this way and that, not quite seeming to participate in the lively conversations going on around him.

Pitying himself for sure, Snape thought nastily. No parents to love him – poor Potter! As though he’s the only one who’s lost loved ones.

He gripped the goblet filled with water standing before him, and took several deep gulps. There was a slightly sweet taste to it, Snape noted, before going back to watch the scene before him.

Severus tried to avoid looking at the table of his own house, but his eyes were drawn there. Lucius Malfoy sat by his son’s side, looking like royalty. By his side, she sat silently, not speaking. Her hair fell gently down her back, like liquid, pale gold, and she kept her grey eyes cast downwards in submission. Graceful fingers wrapped around a goblet, bringing it up to her pale, full lips.

Severus tore his eyes away, busying himself once more with his drink, and he felt the eyes of Lucius on him, cold and harsh. He looked up, meeting the man’s eyes briefly in a challenge. The two had history, more than Severus cared to remember. Who knew what his life would have been like, had Lucius Malfoy never entered it, with promises of gold and power?

Dumbledore stood up just then, and as always when he did so, the room quieted down.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, smiling to the crowd. "I hope you have all enjoyed your first day here with your children, and that they have behaved themselves. We will soon be enjoying dinner, but first I would like to tell you what will be happening afterwards. The tables will be moved to the sides, and there will be some music. Not a dance per se, but still some time to enjoy with your children, unless you would rather take a walk through the castle with your children.

“Tomorrow, the afternoon classes have been cancelled, so that we can have a small Quidditch tournament – parents versus students. Anyone wishing to join the teams, please sign up with Madam Hooch. Now, please, enjoy the feast."

Severus gave another sigh as the room once more was filled with noise. He would eat quickly, and then retreat to his rooms.

There were few people left in the Great Hall. Only the older students, Harry noted – all the younger children had been ushered off to bed by their parents. The ones remaining sat lounging in comfortable chairs, speaking to their parents about anything and everything. Molly shot glares at her husband. Arthur Weasley seemed oblivious, as he continued to question Ron, Harry and Ginny on just about anything that had to do with their school year. Ron did not seem to notice his mother's looks either, and just continued to tell some tale about Snape. Xenophilius and Neville’s Gran added their points here and there.

Hermione had left with her parents. She should be taking them back to their rooms, but Harry knew that she would take a good while doing so, as she would educate her parents in Hogwarts' history along the way. That was Hermione in a nutshell. With the best grades in school, Harry was certain Hermione could outdo even some of the teachers with her knowledge of Hogwarts.

Harry stretched and stood. "Well, I'm off to bed. Must be awake for the game tomorrow.”

He would be leading the Gryffindor student team – a larger team than usual, but no one had objected when the house had chosen him as leader.

Molly stood as well, and gave him a hug. "Of course, dear. Good night – we'll see you tomorrow."

Harry nodded, and said good night to the other three as well. Then he turned and walked out, heading for the Gryffindor dorms. He looked out the large windows as he went, watching the stars and the moon. He was deep in thought, which was why at first, he failed to notice the figure looming ahead. He only stopped when he got close enough to hear the heavy breathing.

The tall, black-clad man with oily hair was not hard for Harry to recognise.

Professor Snape, he thought, utterly confused. It was not so much the fact that Snape was in the corridor that puzzled him, because Snape always roamed the school, so much as the way he stood: One hand on the wall, seemingly for support, the other one gripping the clothes around his chest, his eyes closed. Even from several feet away, Harry could hear his professor's heavy breathing echo through the halls. His face seemed scrunched up in pain, eyebrows knitted tightly together.

Suddenly, Snape's head shot up, as though he had just noticed Harry's presence.

"What do you want, Potter?" he sneered.

For once, Snape’s cold tone did not faze Harry. A mild concern settled in his mind. He was not used to feeling anything but hate towards the older man, yet at that moment he could not bring himself to despise him as he had. He looked ill – lost.

I've never seen him look lost before, Harry thought. Hurt, bloody, angry, furious – never lost.

"Are you all right?" he asked, ignoring Snape's first words to him.

Snape, who seemed to suddenly realise that he still leaned against the wall, stood up quickly. Too quickly, perhaps, because he wavered. Harry, who had moved towards him, immediately reached out his hand to steady him.

As soon as he had made contact, Snape scowled. "Get your hands off me! Five points from Gryffindor for—being where you shouldn’t be."

Harry stared disbelievingly at him. “What?”

Professor Snape did not answer. Without another word, he turned around and stalked away. Harry stared after him, anger and curiosity fighting each other – was Snape's walk a little stiffer than normal? He shook his head as his professor disappeared from his view.

I must be imagining things, he thought to himself as he headed off towards the dorms again. Goddamn Snape. And what was that – being where I shouldn’t be? What kind of stupid bloody reasoning is that? It’s not even curfew yet.

He did not notice the head peeking out behind a statue. That figure, too, wore a confused look. He studied Harry until he disappeared from view.

The next morning at breakfast, Harry kept an eye on Snape. He tried not to make it obvious – the hatred between Severus Snape and Harry Potter was infamous at Hogwarts. Besides, he did not care about the insensitive bastard.

I don’t, Harry thought. He’s a git. A slimy, greasy—

He ranted in his mind for a few minutes about how he much he did not like Snape, nor care what happened to him. Besides, Snape looked better today. His posture was as tense as ever, his hair a thick, greasy curtain around his face as it had always been, and the trademarked scowl did not look laced with pain the way it had the night before. Every now and then, he shot a sour look at the students and their parents, though Harry noted that Snape avoided looking at him.

"What's on the schedule today, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked her son, recalling Harry to the present.

"Mum, would you please stop calling me 'dear'?" Ron whined, instead of answering her question. Molly gave him a look, and he muttered, "We've got Transfiguration."

"Have you done the homework?" Hermione asked. "I did mine last week, though—"

"Hermione, I'm sure your homework is fine," Ron interrupted her. She gave him a look, at which he shrank back just a little. "Yes, I've done it. Harry and I both have, right Harry?"

When Harry failed to reply, because he was watching Snape out of the corner of his eye – not that he cared at all, because he did not – and had lost track of the conversation, Ron elbowed him in his stomach.

"What?" he asked indignantly, looking at Ron.

"Please tell Hermione that we did our homework like good little boys," Ron said, earning another sour look from Hermione.

Harry nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, we did it.”

"Harry, what are you looking at?" Hermione asked, noticing his inattention. She followed his gaze and landed on the Potions professor. "What did Snape do this time?"

"He—" Harry broke off as he remembered the parents. They did not need to hear about Snape being sick – then they would go to Dumbledore, who would ask questions, and Snape would hate Harry even more, especially if it had been nothing. Really, Harry saw no reason to tell Hermione or Ron either, because it had probably been nothing, but to sate Hermione’s curiosity, he said, with a sideways glance at the parents as an explanation, “I’ll tell you later."

Hermione, of course, caught the quick look he gave her indicating the parents present, while the redhead did not. "Why can't you tell us now?"

"Because I'll tell you later," Harry said, before going back to his breakfast.

Ron watched him for a second, then he shrugged and began eating his soggy pancakes.

"Good God, Ron, how much syrup do you have on those?" Hermione asked, as Harry stole another glance at the Potions master at the High Table.

The clear skies of the afternoon boded well for the upcoming Quidditch tournament. The games would not be quite as usual – to be able to finish the eight games in a single afternoon, they had a time limit. Thirty minutes per game, and if the Snitch was caught before that time, it obviously ended then. If not, then the goal scores would decide the winners.

“Lucky for the parents – I think there are a few who’d have a heart attack from flying ‘round much longer than that,” Ron said.

Even his girlfriend had to chuckle at that.

The parents had been divided into two teams, with a mixture of Houses and people who had gone to other schools. They would be playing with larger than normal teams, because Dumbledore wanted to allow as many as possible the chance to play. Hermione’s parents decided against joining – they had never been anywhere near a broom other than for cleaning purposes, and to start out with a Quidditch tournament seemed—ill-advised. Harry thought the decision wise.

“All right, Ginny, and Dean, you guys are Chasers as usual,” Harry said. “I’ll be Seeker, if no one objects to that.”

“No one who wants us to win will object,” Ginny grinned.

“There will be three Chasers, as usual – and since Professor McGonagall has been forced onto the team by our beloved Headmaster, she’ll get the final spot.”

“I swear, one day,” they heard McGonagall grumble about Dumbledore’s decision.

“All right, moving on – Ron as Keeper, Colin as Keeper, because we’ll have two of those as well,” Harry said.

“They’ll need to have at least three Seekers to win against you, though, so what’s the point?”

Ginny’s comment made people giggle.

“And finally, two Beaters – Jimmy and Romilda, you wanted to try this?”

Two nods met him.

An hour later, they had gone through a bit of tactics – since half the team consisted of people who usually played, they did not stray too far from the way they normally played.

“I’ll just stay out of the way,” McGonagall said, resignedly. “There was a time when I enjoyed a Quidditch game, but this is a few decades too late. I’m sure several of the parents will feel the same way.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Ginny said. “Dad looked like he was looking forward to slamming some Bludgers.”

The Gryffindor team had gotten wind of the setup for the two parent teams – Arthur Weasley would be playing Beater. Padma and Parvati’s mother would be playing Seeker on one of the teams, and Lisa Turpin’s parents would both be joining as Chasers on one of the teams.

All in all, Harry did not fear the competition, save for one player – Lucius Malfoy would be playing Beater on the other parent team. It would be the last game of the day, and Harry had a bad feeling about the cold-hearted former Death Eater.

The afternoon passed pleasantly. The Gryffindor students won the first game after eighteen minutes, when Harry caught the Snitch. His competition, the parent Seeker Mr. Zabini, seemed long lost and had been on the other side of the pitch when Harry had set off after the small golden ball.

Afterwards, Harry and his team mates had joined the rest of the student body on the stands, watching the rest of the games – their next game would be the last game of the day, as they only played the two parent teams versus the four Hogwarts teams.

“Well, it’s not like the result’d be any different if we played the other houses,” Ron said. “You’d catch the Snitch anyway and we’d win.”

Harry watched the game going on before them – the Slytherins versus the parent team the Gryffindors had yet to meet. Aislinn Finnigan played Seeker on the team, and her eyes searched the skies for the Snitch just as Draco Malfoy’s did. Malfoy looked far more at ease on a broom – Seamus’ mother did probably not spend as much time on a broom these days as anyone on a Hogwarts Quidditch team did.

The blond boy’s hair, though mostly slicked back, had been loosened by the wind. Harry thought him to be a pleasant thing to rest his eyes upon – the lithe body, the slender hands, which he had no doubt inherited from his mother.

When did I start thinking of him as pleasant to look at?

Harry turned his eyes away to take in the rest of the team. Snape, who had been forced onto the team just as McGonagall had, played Keeper. Studying him briefly, Harry thought he looked paler than usual, though he could not be sure – perhaps it was only the unusual setting; Harry rarely saw the Potions professor outside the castle.

“Mr. Malfoy doesn’t look like he’ll play nice,” Hermione said, nodding towards Lucius Malfoy, flying on the other end of the pitch.

“Well, he is a nasty git, that one,” Ron said.

Ginny nodded. She had an odd look on her face and Harry knew why – Lucius had been the reason for her near tragedy in her first year. The diary and Tom Riddle had all been Lucius Malfoy’s fault.

“He’s a jerk,” she said, unusually quiet. Harry reached out and squeezed her hand in comfort, and she looked gratefully at him.

Neville came up behind her, hugging her. She melted into his arms, and Harry wished for a moment that he could feel jealous of Neville. It would have been much easier, to be in love with Ginny – he already felt like part of her family. But as Neville kissed her forehead, Harry felt no stirring jealousy, no annoyance that it should be him. Ginny was like a sister, just like Hermione – he wanted neither romantically, and was only too happy to see them find love for themselves in their respective boyfriends.

“I don’t know why Dumbledore’s allowing him to play,” Ron said.

“Probably because he can do less damage from there, than from the stands,” Hermione said. “At least in the air, he doesn’t have much of a possibility to curse anyone. And he’ll have everyone’s eyes on him.”

“True,” Ron said, “but he’s playing Beater. That means lots of chances to hurt others, and pretend it wasn’t really on purpose.”

Harry nodded to Jimmy and Romilda. “You two will have to keep him away from everyone else. He’s the only one out there that I think might be in it with an intent to hurt.”

Jimmy and Romilda both nodded.

Harry turned back to the game. He saw Snape, who had not done a particularly good job of guarding the goal posts – he and his counterpart had allowed seven Quaffles to get past them so far. Snape’s face was resentful, and pasty white against his dark clothes. He had donned as little as possible of the Quidditch gear. 

Suddenly, he caught sight of the Snitch, at the other end of the stadium. It glinted in the late afternoon sun, buzzing teasingly from side to side.

Malfoy reacted immediately. Harry had to admire his skill on a broom, as he stretched out as though he rode a horse, allowing it to stretch its legs and move impossibly quickly. Mrs. Finnigan did not stand a chance. Draco reached the other end of the stadium, and his fingers closed around the Snitch, effectively ending the game.

Lucius Malfoy landed and Harry saw him shake hands with the Slytherins. He stopped for a second when he stood in front of Snape, and even from the distance of the stands, Harry could see the challenge on Malfoy’s face.

“Well, one more game and then it’s our turn,” Ginny said. “Perhaps we should head down.”

“Good luck,” Neville said, and Ginny pressed her lips against his.

The parent team that the Gryffindors had already defeated managed, by pure luck it seemed, to win the game against the Hufflepuffs. The Hufflepuff Seeker had been on the other end of the pitch when the Snitch had practically flown into Mr. Zabini’s hand.

When the teams of the final match made their way up onto the pitch, the crowds cheered wildly. The two teams greeted each other – Harry realised that Aislinn Finnigan barely reached his shoulder, but her grip felt firm when they shook hands. In her eyes, he could see a challenge, though he doubted she would pose much of a problem.

Lucius Malfoy regarded him coolly. “Good luck, Potter.”

“This doesn’t have to do with luck,” Harry replied.

“Are you certain?”

Harry felt a jolt all of a sudden, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. He glared at Mr. Malfoy, wanting nothing but for the man to leave Hogwarts. He would not mind in the least if the Ministry sent him to Azkaban for life.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the balls were off, the Snitch disappearing from view immediately.

Harry zoomed around the pitch, looking for it whilst keeping a lookout for stray Bludgers – or not-so-stray Bludgers for that matter, as Mr. Malfoy seemed quite intent on sending them his way.

“And that’s a score for the Gryffindors, who seem to be in fine shape today – especially Miss Ginny Weasley, who is certainly a fine shape to look upon—”

Harry chuckled as Ginny blushed – Neville was not the only one taken with her. Blaise Zabini, who did commentary, did not seem to mind inter-house relationships at all, and today, no McGonagall stood beside him to guard him.

“And there goes another Bludger in the direction of the Gryffindor Seeker – one of the Beaters on the parent team certainly seems intent on knocking him off his broom, although the success rate isn’t so high. But then, Harry Potter has survived things far worse than Bludgers—”

Too true, Harry thought with a shake of his head.

“Sixteen minutes have passed – a little less than half the game remains, and the parents have the Quaffle – Mrs. Patil seems to be aiming for a score for her team—she sends the Quaffle to her husband and there, zooming very nicely indeed – that’s a move I didn’t think I’d see from someone over forty – and no, Weasley is lost and the Quaffle is in—the parents score, reaching thirty points. Still a while to go to Gryffindor’s sixty, but a very nice goal indeed.”

Another five minutes of relative calm – as calm as any Quidditch game could ever be – passed, before Harry suddenly saw the telltale glint of the Snitch. He set off, and as soon as he did, Aislinn Finnigan set of after him. He wondered briefly if she had seen it at all, or if she simply followed his lead. It did not matter – he was closer to it than her, and he would catch it.

“Potter has seen the Snitch and is going after it in the same fashion as always – breakneck speed. The parents don’t seem too happy – and there’s a Bludger heading the way of Potter—”

The Snitch turned, and Harry turned.

Or he tried to.

His broom did not budge under his shifted weight – it continued straight forward, under its own will. Harry looked around, searching for Lucius Malfoy, who was no doubt behind this.

Below him, Harry saw Mrs. Finnigan heading after the Snitch,  but Harry had bigger troubles at the moment.

“Harry, look out!”

He realised a moment before it hit, that the Bludger was still coming right at him. He tried to swivel to avoid it, but his broom would not change its course.

Everything became deafeningly silent.

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Chapters

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | epilogue