Even with the minor upset of Percy Weasley's returned Christmas present, and the still-stewing anger of Ron and Hermione, Harry still managed to have an excellent Christmas morning. The pile of presents at the end of his bed was even larger than it had been the year before — and somehow, someone had snuck in his present from Draco, which was a gorgeous blown-glass fox figurine that made his heart ache fondly. He wondered how the blond was doing, back at Hogwarts.
At least he wasn't at home, with Voldemort.
Harry hoped Narcissa Malfoy was doing okay.
"Merry Christmas, Harry!" Ginny called as he headed down the stairs. "Thanks for the book!" He had given her a book all about the best female quidditch players in history, most of whom were Harpies players. Harry grinned at her, returning the sentiment.
"Merry Christmas, kiddo!" Sirius beamed, wrapping him in a tight hug. He'd been acting odd the last couple of days, but he seemed to be fine now, and Harry hugged him back.
"Thanks for everything. Merry Christmas." Harry had been truly spoiled by his godfather — both of them, in fact.
With Mrs Weasley commandeering the kitchen for an enormous Christmas lunch, they were all kicked out of the basement room; except Bill, who was trusted enough to help with the preparations.
Instead, they gathered in the bigger living room; Fred and George had a new board game from Bill, one that spewed brightly coloured smoke every time a player made a bad move, and they were delighting in playing that with Ginny, Charlie and Ron — the redhead couldn't be properly furious on Christmas, so he was just avoiding Harry. Hermione was sat nearby, reading one of her new books.
Harry made himself comfortable on the sofa between Sirius and Remus, relishing in the joy of being with his family at Christmas.
If only he could have all of them there. Next year, perhaps.
He wriggled round on the sofa, leaning his head on Remus' shoulder and peering at the pages of the book the man was reading. "I wish Snape could be here," he murmured quietly. Remus looked down at him, shocked.
"I— really?"
"Of course. He's family." He might be a grouchy bastard, but the worst of that was for show. Remus deserved to spend Christmas with the man he loved. The werewolf's face softened, and he dropped a quick kiss to Harry's forehead. "I'm glad you think so, cub. I wish he could be here too, but he's got Slytherins to take care of. He's with Draco." Harry was glad for that; glad his boyfriend had his godfather with him.
"Are you going to see him later?" Remus had been living at Grimmauld since Harry had returned.
"Tomorrow, I think. We'll both be busy today. I want to give that poor fellow in the ward with Arthur a bit of company."
Harry knew the one; the recently turned werewolf, who never said a word but always watched the family gather around Mr Weasley with sad, yearning eyes. Harry had never seen him have a visitor. "That'll be nice." Perhaps Remus could put him in touch with one of the packs.
Christmas lunch was exactly the chaos he expected, with the twins trying to sneak pranks into the food, aided by Sirius — and Charlie, though Mrs Weasley didn't seem to notice that child of hers getting involved. Harry ate until he was fit to burst, and regretted that slightly when he found himself clambering into the back of a magically-expanded car between Remus and Ginny. He was grateful when Remus discreetly slipped a vial of Stomach-Settling potion his way, labelled with Snape's spidery handwriting.
St Mungo's was appropriately festive when they arrived, heading straight for the Llewellyn ward. Mr Weasley accepted his pile of gifts with a bright smile — that quickly faltered under the keen eye of his wife, when she began to question his off-schedule bandage change.
The rest of them sensed the brewing argument, and Harry began to wonder if he could slip off and join Remus by the werewolf man's bedside, when Ginny gripped him by the wrist. "Let's go for a walk, yeah?" she hissed, dragging him backwards out of the ward.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked, once they were safely out of Mrs Weasley's explosion radius. Ginny shrugged.
"Bill said something about a drink. Should we go find the tearoom?"
It was as good a suggestion as any, so they set off for the stairs. "Neville's around here, somewhere," Ginny commented offhandedly. Harry's stride faltered.
"Yeah?" Harry knew only one reason why his blond friend would be in the hospital on Christmas.
"His gran doesn't let him visit too often. But they come every year on Christmas Day." Ginny sounded sad. Harry, very much out of his depth with this sort of thing, cleared his throat awkwardly. "He's, uh, told you a bit about his parents, then?" He knew Ginny and Neville hung out when he wasn't around — sometimes with Luna, sometimes not — but he had absolutely no clue what they talked about, considering Ginny was dating Michael Corner and Neville was pretending to be fine with that. It sounded unbearably awkward to him, but whenever he was brave enough to ask Neville about it, the other Gryffindor just said that his feelings weren't going to stop him being friends with Ginny.
Harry was very glad his own love life wasn't that complicated, threat of Lucius Malfoy aside.
"Yeah, he's told me. It's so sad."
Harry hummed in agreement. There wasn't much else to say on the matter. "And, ah, what's Michael up to, this Christmas?"
Ginny's face hardened. "I wouldn't know," she muttered angrily. "We broke up."
That was brand new information to Harry, and his eyes went wide. "What? Why didn't you tell me?" Why hadn't Neville told him? Did Neville even know?
"Never had the chance." Ginny glanced at the floor evasively, and Harry narrowed his eyes. There was a story, there; perhaps he could get her to spill it over a cup of terrible hospital tea.
But all thoughts of pestering Ginny for details flew from his head when they reached the fourth floor landing, and came face to face with the subject of their conversation. One of them, at least.
"Ginny!" Neville blinked, startled. "Harry! What are you doing here?"
"Visiting Dad," Ginny explained. Her cheeks gained the faintest red flush. "It's, uh, good to see you."
Neville blushed too, and then a throat cleared pointedly behind him. Harry looked past his friend, seeing a woman in a rather impressive vulture-topped hat that could only be Mrs Longbottom herself. "Neville. Introduce me."
Harry took a half-step forward, palms open. "Well met, Dowager Longbottom," he greeted, bowing in respect, hoping desperately he had the correct form of address.
A keen-eyed smile crossed the woman's age-weathered face. "Ah, of course. Well met indeed, Heir Potter." She held out a hand, and Harry kissed the back of it. "A pleasure to finally meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine," Harry assured her earnestly. "I know it's quite late, but I'd like to thank you in person for all the help you gave me in my third year."
Her smile widened, something like approval in her eyes. "The Potter-Longbottom alliance has stood strong for generations," she said. "I am glad to help it flourish for another."
Neville looked a mix of pleased and petrified, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot. "Um, Gran," he stuttered. "This is Ginny Weasley. My friend."
Ginny's face coloured further, but she managed a slightly clumsy half-curtsey. "Nice to meet you, Mrs Longbottom."
"Indeed," Mrs Longbottom said. "I've heard quite a bit about you."
Neville blushed brightly, making Harry wonder exactly what his friend had told his grandmother about the Weasley girl. "Come along, Neville. Visiting hours won't last forever."
Neville nodded, then paused, turning back to the pair of them. "Would you— I mean— do you want to come meet my parents?" He looked hopeful, and Harry's chest squeezed.
"We'd love to," he said immediately, and Ginny nodded at her side. "If— if it's alright, of course, Lady Longbottom." Harry added hesitantly, not wanting to overstep. Neville's time with his parents was precious; he didn't want to intrude.
"If Neville is happy with it, then that is alright by me. This way."
She led them in the direction of the Janus Thickey ward, and Harry stayed respectfully half a step behind her.
"How are you faring, Mr Potter?" she questioned, glancing his way. "I have heard some from Neville, of course — he's told me all about how enterprising young Miss Bones is." There was the faintest smile flickering at her wrinkled cheeks. "But with things the way they are at school, correspondance has been rather sparse. I have to make do with what I see in the papers, and I can't say I'm overly impressed."
By the look on her face, there were several things she'd like to say to Dolores Umbridge, and Harry wished he could sit in on the next Wizengamot session where both women were present.
"I'm preparing for my OWLs as best I can," he replied, not wanting to say too much in such a public place. "And helping my friends with their studies, too."
"Glad to hear it. Getting on well with your teachers? The headmaster?" Her gaze was shrewd. Again, Harry nodded.
"They're all rather busy, though, with the inspections happening. Especially Professor Dumbledore."
Mrs Longbottom harrumphed, removing her wand to unlock the door of the ward. Harry glanced over his shoulder — behind them, Neville and Ginny were walking close together; so close their hands were brushing. When Neville realised his gran was watching, he cleared his throat and put his hands in his pockets.
"They're, uh, over here," he said, leading the way towards two curtained-off beds in the back corner. Harry tried not to stare at the rest of the patients — though he did a double-take at the sight of Gilderoy Lockhart, sat writing his name over and over with a peacock feather quill, smiling happily to himself.
He didn't have long to think about it, though; Neville stopped in front of the beds and pulled the curtain back carefully, a shaky smile on his face. "Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad. Merry Christmas." He reached into his grandmother's large handbag, pulling out a pair of squashy packages in shiny paper. "I brought you these. And, uh, I've got some friends with me, too. They'd like to meet you."
Harry shuffled closer, peering over Neville's shoulder. Mr and Mrs Longbottom were a far cry from the happy, rosy-cheeked couple Harry had seen in Moody's picture of the original Order of the Phoenix. They were worn and gaunt-faced, bodies frail and hair pure white. But when they looked at Neville, even though their eyes were unfocused, they both beamed.
Neville set a present each on their laps, leaning in to kiss them on the cheek one at a time, heartbreakingly soft. Harry stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Hello, Mrs Longbottom," he greeted in a hoarse almost-whisper, stood beside the woman's bed. She looked at him, though her eyes were blank. "I'm Harry Potter. I think you knew my mum." He knew from stories that Alice Hopkins, as she had been before she married, was one of Lily Evans' Gryffindor roommates, and best friends.
Alice Longbottom continued to stare at him, her fingers digging weakly into the paper-wrapped present.
"I just wanted to say," he continued, speaking loud enough for Frank Longbottom to hear, too — he was looking over, curious in a sort of dazed way. "Your son is the best friend I've ever had, and you both should be very proud of him." He heard Neville gasp softly, but didn't look away from Alice's vacant gaze. She reached up, patting him on the cheek.
"James," she muttered, letting out a feeble little giggle, then turned to focus on opening her Christmas present.
Harry stood there, shocked, for several moments. Eventually, an aged hand curled around his shoulder. "That was a very fine thing to say, Mr Potter," Mrs Longbottom said quietly. The pair of them watched as Neville introduced Ginny to his dad, and Harry wondered if Ginny saw the adoration in Neville's eyes as she didn't hesitate to begin chattering to the man like an old friend.
"It's the truth," he said, looking up at the woman with challenge in his eyes. "Neville's brilliant. And you should see how well he's doing in our defence club."
The old woman sighed. "Sometimes I fear in trying to teach him how wonderful his parents were, I put far too much expectation on that boy's shoulders. He's lucky to have a friend like you, Mr Potter."
"Im the lucky one," he insisted. "And— I know it's not my place, so please excuse my impertinence, but Neville needs a new wand." He had to take his chance, while Neville was distracted. "His father's wand isn't suited to him at all, and it's holding him back. I know you want to honour your son's memory, but… being friends with me is dangerous. I wouldn't want Neville to get into trouble and have a spell fail him because his wand isn't truly his."
It was mean, perhaps, to play on the old woman's fear for her grandson like that — but it was also the truth. In the last few months, Harry had seen Neville's spells go awry for no reason whatsoever, even when he was doing everything right. It was the wand's fault, and that could get him killed.
Mrs Longbottom's mouth tightened, and Harry wondered if he had gone too far. Then, she nodded tersely. "I shall look into it. Thank you for the recommendation." She looked down at him, grey-blue eyes betraying her amusement. "That impertinence of yours could make life difficult, when you come of age."
Harry grinned back. "Sometimes, difficult is necessary."
"As is impertinence," Mrs Longbottom agreed knowingly.
Harry suspected that had been some sort of test, and he hoped he passed muster. Mrs Longbottom was a very intimidating woman, even without all the stories Neville had told him. But Harry would not be cowed, not when his friend's life was at stake.
"It never gets easier, seeing them like this," Mrs Longbottom sighed.
"Harry, come meet my dad," Neville urged bright-eyed, and so Harry didn't reply, instead smiling at his friend as he went to gently shake Frank Longbottom's hand.
He thought, perhaps, that the reason Mrs Longbottom did not allow her grandson to visit his parents often was not because she wanted to keep them separated, but because it was too painful a reminder for herself.
.-.-.
He and Ginny didn't stay too long with the Longbottom family, not wanting to intrude on their entire Christmas visit. Frank seemed far more entertained with the shiny paper of his present than the soft cardigan inside, but Alice immediately wrapped herself in her brand new yellow shawl with a sunny smile.
When they left, Ginny kissed Neville on the cheek, and Harry squeezed his shoulder. "I'll see you back at school," he said, and Neville nodded.
"Thanks for this. It's nice, I think, for them to meet new people."
"Thank you for letting us meet them," Ginny returned. She, likely even more than Harry, knew how important Neville's parents were to him, even though he rarely spoke of them at school.
"I hope your dad gets better soon. I'll write to you, yeah?"
Harry let Neville and Ginny smile and blush at each other for a bit, and then he gently took Ginny by the arm, leading her out of the ward and back to the stairs.
"His parents are so sweet," Ginny murmured sadly once they were alone. Harry nodded. He could only imagine what Frank and Alice Longbottom had been like before the Lestranges had stolen their minds. "What was all that weird formal stuff with you and Mrs Longbottom, though?"
Harry froze — with all the secrets she did know, Harry forgot that Ginny was still mostly unaware of Harry's political standing. She knew that Dumbledore had blocked his family magics, but she didn't know what that meant in the context of the wizarding world. She didn't know anything about what he and Neville were up to with Susan and the other heirs.
"I'll tell you later," he promised; they were getting closer to Mr Weasley's ward. "I think we've got a lot to talk about, anyway." He gave her a pointed look, and she flushed and clenched her jaw.
"Don't know what you're talking about," she lied weakly. Harry let it slide, as they returned to the Llewellyn ward where Mrs Weasley seemed to be done yelling about stitches.
They could talk back at Grimmauld.
.-.-.
With most of the occupants of Grimmauld Place out at the hospital visiting Arthur, it was the perfect chance for Sirius to go to Seren Du for a bit of fresh air. The Welsh countryside was blanketed in thick snow, and there was nothing he loved more than running through it as Padfoot before coming indoors and warming up by a nice toasty fire. It would have been better with Harry, but he was happy enough alone.
He was in high spirits when he returned to Grimmauld — though they sank immediately when Tonks hurried into the kitchen. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You didn't go out, did you?"
Sirius gave her a considering look. His little cousin was proving herself to be a fine member of the Black family — what the family had once been, before the darkness and madness. What Sirius wanted the family to be again. She had kept all his secrets so far… perhaps it was time to trust her with a little more.
"Has your mum ever told you about the Black family summer home?" he asked casually. Tonks looked bewildered.
"You what?"
"The family summer home. We used to spend a lot of time there as children. It's really quite something." He met her eyes, bright purple today, and drew his eyebrows together. "You should really ask her about it sometime. Remind her of the teas we used to have. Four o'clock, every Sunday afternoon." His smile was perfectly innocent, as if he was just reminiscing on a fond childhood memory. But he could tell from the way Tonks' shoulders shifted that she'd caught on.
"I'll do that," she promised. "Sounds like a fun place to be."
Sirius smirked. "It certainly was," he agreed.
Remus might get angry at him for being too hasty, but Sirius knew what Black family loyalty was like. If he could trust Cissa, he could trust Andi.
And maybe in time he could get them to trust each other once more.
.-.-.-.
To her credit, Ginny didn't try too hard to avoid Harry in the days that followed. He let her have Christmas, and Boxing Day, but on the 27th he shot her a loaded glance over lunch, and when he went up to the little-used parlour on the family floor, she came with him.
He warded the room discreetly, not wanting Ginny to realise he was using magic outside of school. Then he gestured to the sofa, a hand-knitted blanket draped over the back. "So," he began, once they were both sat down. "Tell me about Michael."
That didn't seem to be what Ginny was expecting. She blinked, thrown off-guard, then bit her lip. "I… I did like him, at first. Not as much as… I did like him." Harry wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him or herself, and stayed silent. "He was sweet, and he wasn't expecting any promises or anything. But it was nice, y'know? At least at first. Then… When I was with him, I just started feeling this awful guilt. Like I was cheating even though I wasn't. And sometimes I would see Neville look at me…"
She shuddered. Harry knew the looks she was speaking of.
"I talked to Nev a couple of times, and he said I should just do what made me happy. That he could wait for me to figure out what I wanted. But even just sitting and studying with him made me feel ten times better than anything I did with Michael."
"Please don't go into detail," Harry urged, looking a bit nauseous, and Ginny giggled.
"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies," she teased. Then she sobered once more, tugging at her braid. "I think Michael could tell something was off. He started getting… weird. All possessive, wanting to know way too much about who I was with and what I was doing all day. Trying to tell me who I could and couldn't hang out with." Her brown eyes flashed angrily. "Then about a week before we came here, Michael and I had this horrible fight. He got really jealous about how much time I spent with you and Neville. Said that he hated when I was in my common room instead of in the library or wherever because he couldn't keep an eye on me, that he couldn't trust me when I wasn't with him. I yelled at him about it — we agreed when we got together that it wouldn't be anything serious. We both said terrible things, but he said some really gross things about me and I just couldn't take it anymore, so I dumped him."
Her eyes began to water, and suddenly she let out a sob. "The worst part, though, was when he said I'd been leading him on, and I couldn't even deny it because fuck, I was."
Ginny started to cry, and Harry shuffled closer to wind an arm around her. She fell into him, tears seeping into his t-shirt. "You said you told him it wasn't serious," Harry pointed out.
"Yeah but I still agreed to be his girlfriend knowing it wasn't going to go anywhere! Knowing I didn't feel about him like I was supposed to."
"Maybe that wasn't the smartest idea," Harry agreed, wincing. "But that doesn't give him the right to be a prick about it. That stuff about keeping an eye on you in the common room is way out of order."
"He was right, though," Ginny sniffed. "I mean, Neville and I never did anything, not while I was with Michael. But I wanted to. Isn't that bad enough?"
"I'm not gonna sit here and tell you you're a bad person, Gin," Harry sighed. "I think you've done some stupid things, but that doesn't mean you deserve to be treated like that by anyone. Get George to give you his lecture about consent sometime; it's a doozy." Ginny giggled weakly.
"I never should've dated Michael in the first place."
Well, Harry wasn't going to argue about that. "Why did you?" he blurted. "I mean, I know it's none of my business, but… I thought you and Neville really had something, after the Yule Ball."
"We did," Ginny groaned, shaking her head against Harry's chest. "Merlin, Harry, Neville is… I'm in love with him. I know I am. I think I've known since the Yule Ball, deep down. But I've definitely known since I kissed him on the Express at the end of last year."
Harry went wide-eyed. "Nev didn't tell me about that."
"Really?" Ginny looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Oh. Well, yeah. I kissed him, before the train pulled in to the platform. And I spent all summer thinking about him and I just got so scared because I am way too young to be in love. Like, I always dreamed when I was a kid about finding Prince Charming, y'know? The one man who would sweep me off my feet and that would be it, forever. All those fairytales mum would tell me — the ones where the prince would have black hair and green eyes."
Harry made a face, and Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.
"But I always thought I'd find him, y'know, when I'm twenty-five and playing for the Harpies or whatever. When I've got my life together. When I've had the chance to fail at dating and make stupid decisions about boys for a few years. Not at the age of bloody thirteen."
"Well, I don't know about having your life together, but I'd say you've managed the whole 'fail at dating and make stupid decisions about boys' part," Harry said dryly, earning a whack to the shoulder. "Look, Gin… if Neville is your Prince Charming, then that's that. Maybe he is, and you'll never date anyone but him. Maybe he isn't and you'll break up when he graduates and then when you're twenty-five and playing for the Harpies you'll find some other Prince Charming. But is it really fair on either of you to keep pushing him away and dating boys you don't even care about just because you're too scared of your own feelings? I thought you were a Gryffindor." The redhead snarled at the insinuation she wasn't meeting house standards, but then her face fell. "It doesn't matter anymore, anyway. I've been such a shit to Neville, dating Michael, flirting with all those other boys right in front of him. Just telling him to wait until I was ready. He's probably sick of waiting by now, after me stringing him along for almost a year."
Privately, Harry doubted Neville would ever be sick of waiting for Ginny Weasley. But he didn't deserve that treatment, and he would never say that himself. So Harry would do it for him. "Yeah, you have been a shit to him," he agreed. "And if he's not interested anymore, that's just something you'll have to live with." Ginny looked heartbroken at the prospect. "But dating more random guys isn't going to help that. It's not going to make you any less in love with him. And it's certainly not going to convince him that you're ready to give things a try."
"I know," Ginny agreed plaintively. "I'm done, with all that. After Michael… I don't want a boyfriend just for the sake of having one. Just to try things out. I want a boyfriend that matters, or none at all." She took a shaky breath. "I want Neville," she admitted in a small voice.
"Then when we get back after Christmas, you go and apologise to him, and grovel if you have to, and tell him how you feel. All of how you feel. Or write it in a letter, if telling him is too scary."
Ginny's hand gripped his, knuckles turning white. "I didn't mean for things to get this complicated," she insisted quietly. "I just — it felt so big, so much, and I thought for sure it couldn't be that so I flirted with all those other boys to try and prove that I wasn't some silly little girl who falls arse-over-teakettle for the first boy to actually pay attention to me. I thought I'd start feeling for them like I felt for Neville and it might get a little less scary."
Harry pursed his lips, thinking it over. "Gin," he said slowly. "You remember the Yule Ball, when I disappeared for a bit?"
"And came back looking like you'd been ravished?" she teased. He nodded, and her eyes widened. "Is this about your secret boyfriend that the twins and Neville know about but you won't tell me."
"You can't tell anyone, I mean it," he said seriously. "He could be killed if anyone finds out."
"I won't tell a soul. Not even Charlie." Considering the dragon tamer was her favourite brother, that was a strong promise. "I've been dating Draco Malfoy since the first task," he admitted, getting the familiar happy butterflies in his belly when he remembered their first kiss, over a year ago now. Ginny gaped.
"Malfoy? But— oh my God, him coming to talk to you on the train makes so much more sense now." Harry nodded.
"We started being friends in my third year. In secret, obviously. His dad's an absolute piece of shit, and he'd kill Draco if he knew we were even civil, let alone how important he is to me."
"And you've kept it secret, all this time?"
He nodded again. "You're now the fourth person at school to know." He didn't count Snape. "Sirius and Remus know, too. Sirius is cousins with his mum, Narcissa. She knows; she's really nice, she's just stuck married to a Death Eater."
"That's awful," Ginny murmured sadly.
"The point is," Harry continued, "I'm in love with Draco. Completely besotted, absolutely embarrassingly in love with him. And yeah, it terrifies me," he said freely. "I've never kissed anyone but him, and if I have my way, I never will. But I don't think I'm missing out. I can't talk for what it's like to do anything with anyone else. And I'm not saying you should only date people you're in love with, or whatever. But knowing how amazing it feels, just being with him… I don't understand why you're denying yourself that." He gave a rueful smile. "We could both be killed if the wrong person finds out about us. Hell, I might get killed by Voldemort before I graduate. So maybe the fear of losing him is greater than the fear of loving him. But, look at it this way — you're gonna feel the way you do about Neville whether you're dating him or not. Isn't it better to just… accept it, and be happy?"
The redhead was silent for a long time, leaning gently against Harry's shoulder, her fingers twisting in the edge of the blanket on the sofa. "I think I've fucked it all up, Harry," she said in a heartbroken whisper.
"I don't know about that," Harry mused. "Nev's a good bloke. And he cares a lot about you. Hell, the fact that he didn't even blink when you dated Michael proves that. Maybe the two of you need a bit of time to straighten out some hurt feelings, but I don't think it's ruined. It might be, if you keep acting like he's always going to be there, though. Like he's your back-up choice, or your afterthought."
She looked horrified. "I don't think that!"
"Well it looks like it, sometimes," Harry said bluntly. She needed to know how much she'd hurt Neville. Even if it hurt her in the process. "It looks like you're gonna go off and have your fun and when you're bored of all the other boys you'll come back and settle for Neville." Ginny looked like she was going to be sick at the very idea of it. Harry squeezed her gently, kissing her head. "If you love him, tell him. It'll eat you up inside if you don't." He knew that from experience. "I'm gonna leave you to think for a bit — we've been up here long enough, and if your mum figures it out she'll either castrate me or start planning the wedding," he said with a grimace. "But I'm always around if you need to talk, yeah? And if not me, you've got four other brothers in this house who are probably less useless with relationship advice and have way more experience."
"You're not useless, Harry," Ginny insisted. "I— I think I needed to hear all that. Even the hard bits. Go on, I'll be fine. Might just have a cry for a bit," she said, wiping at her eyes. Then she managed a grin that was a shadow of its usual cheeky self. "But later you're gonna tell me all the juicy gossip about Draco Malfoy, yeah? And whatever you didn't want to tell me at St Mungo's."
Harry grinned — it would be nice, having a new person to gush about Draco to. Everyone else was a bit sick of it. "Deal," he agreed, getting to his feet and leaving her in the parlour by herself.
He just wanted both her and Neville to be happy. Whether it was together, or not.
.-.-.-.-.
Severus had been expecting the summons from the moment he'd heard about Arthur Weasley's attack.
"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"
Albus smiled genially at him across the desk. "Ah, Severus. Come in, come in. Lemon drop?"
Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes, sending the bowl of sweets a disparaging glance. Albus just chuckled. "I have a request to make of you, my boy. A rather necessary one, I'm afraid." The man's twinkling gaze grew serious behind his glasses. "I must ask you to teach Harry Potter Occlumency."
Severus let his face twist in outrage. "Albus, you cannot believe Potter has the brain capacity for such a thing? The boy is barely more intelligent than a flobberworm."
"Now, now, Severus; Harry has been doing remarkably well in his classes, lately." Severus hid his smirk; a little too well, for Albus' liking. "Regardless, it is imperative that he learn to close off his mind. This vision he suffered, from Nagini's mind… it speaks of dark forces at work. I'm afraid I have recognised Voldemort behind Harry's eyes, and we must make sure he is not able to get a proper foothold. Harry has seen too much — Headquarters, the faces of the Order members, even beyond that. We cannot allow that information to get into the wrong hands."
"Albus, you can't be serious," Severus continued to protest. "Why don't you teach the boy? He will trust you far more."
That made Albus smile, false concern hiding his satisfaction with Harry's perceived loyalty. "I would if I could, but I'm afraid the Dark Lord's anger at my person is enough to bring him to the surface. I attempted Legilimency on young Harry after his vision — to try and see for myself, of course, to find a way to help him — but the mind that rose to fight me was not his. I fear my presence within Harry's mind will merely draw Voldemort through even stronger. It must be you, Severus."
Severus did not point out that, should Voldemort actually be residing in Harry Potter's mind, having him — a spy, supposedly loyal to the Dark Lord — enter it with the intention of doing anything helpful was as good as signing his own death warrant. Perhaps Albus was finally trying to dispose of him.
"I know it will be difficult to get Harry to trust you, but you must try. He needs to learn to close off his mind. And… you, my boy, need to learn how far Voldemort has his claws into the boy."
Severus' spine tingled. Ah; now they were reaching the heart of the matter. "Pardon?"
"Harry has been… unlike himself, this year. Withdrawing himself from Miss Granger and young Mr Weasley. Spending a lot of time alone. Improving extraordinarily quickly in his classes. Quick to anger, and convinced of his own correctness. He is, perhaps… a little too mature, for his age. I worry about the side-effects of the Dark Lord's resurrection ritual. If there was any backlash."
…Albus was trying to make Severus believe that Harry Potter was some sort of shade of Tom Riddle, a puppet walking around the school.
How stupid did he think Severus was?
"That would be concerning," he agreed, frowning. He played out his anger, though he knew he had no choice. He never did, when it came to this man. "If you insist, Albus, I will attempt to teach the boy. And I will check his mind for outside influence, while I'm there." He would not crack the child like an egg and take those secrets straight to the headmaster, as Albus so clearly hoped.
"Excellent. Thank you, Severus; your dedication is, as always, greatly appreciated. You will go to Harry with the news the day before he is due to return to school. No need to dampen his festivities with such things, after all." The twinkle was back. "I would not ask this if it were not of utmost importance — we must stay abreast of Voldemort's plans, especially if they involve Harry."
Yes, because then they might interfere with your own, Severus sneered in his own mind, while his face stayed passive.
"If the boy is hiding anything, Albus, rest assured I will find it."
And there was that smile, that twinkle that Severus so hated. The one that said everyone was playing perfectly into Albus Dumbledore's hands and they didn't even realise it.
"Thank you, my boy. I knew I could count on you."
Severus bowed his head to disguise the hatred twisting his lips. One day, the old fool would get what was coming to him. Severus longed to be there to see it.