30. Chapter 30

Thank you all for your reviews! I hope this next chapter answers some questions and gets some things moving.

Chapter 30

Suffice to say that Harry's brief but emotional encounter with James Potter was more than enough motivation he needed to get right back to work on the potion. As much as he would have preferred to skip class altogether the next day, he knew that his father and master would never let him live it down, so he had to painstakingly make it through the day. Time passed by slowly, except in potions class.

They were creating a level ten antidote that would work on even the foulest of poisons. Exceedingly difficult to make because the ingredients needed to be added rather swiftly and in the correct order. Sometimes it was a matter of seconds in which the ingredients needed to be absorbed by the fluid so there was absolutely no room for contemplation.

Not a single student was talking and even Professor Slughorn kept his mouth shut as he moved about the classroom, not quite as silently as Snape would have, but almost equally so.

As far as Harry was concerned, this potion – though definitely one of the more complicated ones – was no problem at all. He had practised brewing it many times under the watchful eye of Snape. And he was grateful to have done so because the first time he had attempted this particular brew, his cauldron had spat blue fire all over the lab because he hadn't added the chimaera hoof in time.

It was almost like a competition. More and more students had to give up as Slughorn needed to intervene to prevent disasters from happening. The number of things that could go wrong was astounding! So far, one cauldron had exploded while another had imploded. One student had produced the same blue fire Harry once had and one Hufflepuff's concoction suddenly started overflowing excessively, coating the floor in horrible blue sludge.

Near the end, even Hermione needed to be rescued when she added the fire-lizard tales just a tad too quickly and black smoke erupted from the potion. Slughorn banished it immediately and told Hermione to clean her station.

"It's quite alright, Ms Granger," he told her as she was no doubt pouting about the mishap. "For getting this far, you at least deserve an Exceeds Expectation. I hardly expected anyone to get to the last step."

Harry heard Hermione sigh and mumble something under her breath but was much too focused to care. As far as he could tell, there were only three people left in total who were still brewing. Him, Draco and Michael Corner, his defence partner.

Harry stirred the potion feverishly. If he stirred too calmly, the entire potion would harden like cement and be ruined. His arm was starting to hurt but he would not let up now. He would definitely not be outbrewed by a Slytherin.

He heard swearing coming from Draco and glanced over. His stirrer was standing upright in his potion, seemingly stuck. Like cement.

Alright, time for the gryphon feathers. Harry needed to add twelve in total, but not at once. Slughorn had come to stand between Harry and Michael, carefully surveying the both of them. The other students were standing on the side-lines, silently watching on as if Harry and Michael were the last contenders in an amazing competition.

Harry threw in the fifth feather. He had arranged them carefully according to size beforehand and was throwing them in from smallest to largest as to not upset the concoction too much at once, much like when you add warm milk to a mixture of beaten eggs. Only a bit at a time or the eggs would react. But his potion didn't. It kept bubbling gently, as Harry stirred with all his might.

He grinned as he thought that maybe seventh-year potions class was not at all boring, after all.

When the last feather was absorbed into the potion, Harry kept stirring feverishly, carefully diminishing the ferocity as the seconds passed by. Eventually, he found himself stirring very slowly until he finally stopped. Rather than hoisting his cauldron of the fire, he doused the flames with a basin of water he had kept nearby. It wouldn't do to reintroduce movement to the potion now.

When it seemed that the potion was perfect and would not still implode nastily, Harry wiped his brow with his sleeve and looked over at Michael. He too was dousing his fire, an intense and focused look in his eyes.

"Well done, boys," Slughorn said enthusiastically, "Harry, I knew you would be able to do it. Well done to you and Michael, I see that you've studied hard!"

"Thank you, Professor," Michael said, "I did indeed."

"Twenty points to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw," Slughorn said happily, "And we will be using those potions to restock the infirmary. As for the rest of you –" he turned to face the rest of the class. "- I assure you that failure in this potion's completion did not lead to a failing grade. You will all write an essay on the creation of this potion and where you specifically went wrong and how to prevent that in the future. This will be the deciding factor of your grade for today."

He winked at Harry and Michael. "You two don't need to write the essay, of course," he said, "And you both receive an Outstanding for your work. If there were a grade higher, you would have received it today."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, happy with the praise. "Now, run along. You wouldn't want to keep your next professor waiting, now would you?"

Slughorn received a general murmur in response as students packed their bags in a hurry and left his classroom.

"Is something wrong, Draco," Harry asked as they walked to their charms class.

"Wrong?" Draco asked, "No, why do you think so?"

"You seemed a bit distracted today," Harry shrugged, "It doesn't seem like you to botch a potion just because of a lack of stirring."

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's nothing," he murmured.

When Harry looked closer, he could see the dark circles beneath his friend's eyes. With a surge of determination, he grabbed Draco's wrist and stopped walking, glancing at Hermione to signify that she should keep going.

"Harry –"

"Don't lie to me, Draco," Harry said softly. He waited until everyone had passed and then let go. "Something's wrong and I'm not going to wait forever for you to tell me."

"I told you that nothing's wrong," Draco snarled.

"You look like death warmed over," Harry pointed out, "And you can't focus." He moulded his facial expression into one that conveyed concern. "Draco," he sighed, "I know what it's like to struggle with certain things on my own. And it's not healthy."

"Oh yeah?" Draco growled, "I know for a fact that you have been keeping secrets from me. So why should I tell you mine?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked in genuine confusion.

Draco laughed bitterly. "I noticed when I was at your house," Draco said, "You mentioned something about your relatives and closed off immediately after that. In fact, you never did tell me why you went to live with Snape."

Harry took a step back and glared at Draco darkly.

"But it's fine for you, is it?" Draco snapped. Harry thought he looked like he was about to burst into tears but said nothing of it. "You can keep your secrets but I should just tell you whatever is going on in my life? It doesn't work like that."

"Draco," Harry sighed, "I haven't even told Ron or Hermione the full story."

Draco glared at him and then smiled cruelly. "Then I think you're in no position to lecture me."

He picked up the bag he had dropped on the floor and hoisted it onto his shoulder, starting to walk off. Harry grabbed Draco's shoulder and pushed him roughly against the wall.

"Fine," he spat, "But if I ever hear you repeating this to anyone else. Anyone at all, we are no longer friends." Harry noticed Draco's sharp intake of breath and worried eyes.

"Of course," Draco said, "That's only fair."

Harry realized that they were probably running late for class by now but he didn't care anymore;

"The reason I live with Severus now is that my family… well –" Harry sighed and averted his eyes, "They beat me up. They starved me and they locked me in my room or my cupboard. I've come close to death on more than one occasion."

Harry let go of Draco's shoulder and took a few steps back, licking his upper lip nervously.

After a long pause, Draco finally spoke. "Harry –"

"Don't," Harry urged him, "It's all in the past now. I don't need any reassurances and I don't need your pity."

Draco sighed and averted his eyes, clearly not sure of what he should say.

"What I do need from you, Draco," Harry said, "Is for you to trust me and tell me what is wrong. Waiting for the problem to resolve itself does not work."

"Severus already knows," Draco said, "He's trying to help me."

"With what?" Harry urged.

"My mother," Draco said softly, "She's having problems. The healers think it's because of the stress of everything that's happened with my father; the prosecutions; the stares…"

Harry furrowed his brow in sympathy. "What problems?" he asked.

"They call it stress-induced dementia," Draco said, "It's quite uncommon but of course, the Malfoy family should be so lucky." Draco laughed bitterly. "Severus gave me something that might help her."

"Does it?" Harry asked.

"A bit, I suppose," Draco sighed, "But not that much. I think she's getting worse."

"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry said, putting a comforting hand on the blonde's shoulder. He shot Harry a challenging look.

"So, now that I've told you, how are you going to help me?" he asked defiantly.

"By being here for you," Harry said without skipping a beat.

"That's not enough," Draco replied softly, his voice quivering. And yet, he leaned into Harry's touch.

"No," Harry agreed, "But that won't stop me from trying."

Draco chuckled. "You really don't leave someone alone once they've become your friend, do you?"

"Never," Harry said truthfully.

After the last lesson of the day – which was the charms class to which Draco and Harry had shown up exceptionally late – Harry had gone straight back to the dungeons where he would continue working on his potion. He would absolutely need to substitute some of his ingredients. Perhaps if he –

He walked into the potions lab, and stroked Hedwig absentmindedly in passing, walking straight over to the ingredients cabinet. He perused them all as if hoping that one of them might tell him that it was what Harry needed.

"Hi, Harry."

Harry bumped his head harshly against the shelf when the voice startled him. Groaning, he pulled back and turned around, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

"Luna," he said in surprise.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Luna said dreamily, "Do you have a guilty conscience?"

"What?" Harry protested, "No, I just don't expect anyone to come here.

"But Hedwig is here."

Harry stared at her for a moment before laughing softly. "Yes," he agreed, "Hedwig is here."

"Are you going to brew that potion again?" Luna asked, "I would very much enjoy meeting the ghosts as they come here."

"I'd rather not repeat that, actually," Harry chuckled, "And no, there won't be any brewing today. I need to revise some of my ingredients."

He took a seat and unfurled his theorem. He barely even noticed when Luna took the seat next to him and stared at the parchment in his hands.

"Vulture tongues do not seem right," she mentioned.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Vultures aren't welcoming to the dead at all," Luna pointed out, "They would rather feast on their flesh, wouldn't they?"

"Hm," Harry agreed, "So perhaps Jackal fur instead?"

"That does seem like a splendid idea," Luna said as she clapped her hands together.

"Anything else that seems dodgy to you?" Harry asked, extending the paper so Luna could take a closer look.

"The white cloves seem too narcissistic," Luna said, "This shouldn't be about you but about them."

"Well –" Harry said thoughtfully, not finishing his sentence.

"I am very fond of ghost pipe," Luna said happily.

"Monotropa Uniflora," Harry said eagerly, "Unpollinated, of course. Luna, you're a genius!"

"I'd really rather not be," Luna said evenly, "Genius inspires resentment. I wouldn't want you to resent me."

"I would never," Harry replied seriously.

"Oh, well that's good," Luna replied, joyously accepting Harry's words.

Harry regarded her for a moment, seriously wondering what Luna was even doing in the potion's lab. She wasn't brewing anything nor had she brought any books to study.

"Have people been bothering you again?" he asked as he carefully changed some of his arithmetic formulae.

"Oh no," Luna said, "Not at all. People are usually kind, aren't they?"

Harry looked up from what he was doing. "Are you sure?"

Luna nodded peacefully. "I am quite content, actually. And I think other people might have noticed that. I've been left alone."

"It's a pity that those idiot's don't see how wonderfully your mind works," Harry growled. It was out before he had thought about it.

Luna chuckled. "Eventually, everyone is able to see what sits in front of them," she says, "It takes those that look to others just a bit more time, that's all."

After a long day where he had been hard at work, Snape liked going to his quarters and sit there in peace, reading a book and indulging himself with a singular glass of Fire Whiskey. But for a while now, the solitude and calm of his private quarters had obviously been disturbed and he was getting increasingly annoyed.

McGonagall had called him crazy or sleep-deprived but Snape knew for a fact that his stack of essays had been rearranged. He knew with one hundred per cent certainty that some of his potions appeared to have been relabelled and it was beyond clear that his books seemed to be moving of their own accord, never respecting the order in which Snape had so carefully placed them.

Today, the glasses Snape used to pour himself his beloved Fire Whiskey no longer sat on the top shelf. No, instead, they were moved to the bottom one. Why would anyone go this far to torment him? Initially – when it had all began – he had suspected Maya to be behind this all but he had to reconsider. These were his private quarters and Maya did not have the ability to get in here without enlisting Harry's help. And Snape knew for a fact that Harry had been engrossed in his studies and hadn't been in his quarters for a while now.

Snape huffed, and with a wave of his wand, he moved the glasses to their rightful place, foregoing the fire whiskey for now since his mood had been dampened considerably.

He was just about to read through one of his novels 'The Signal-Man' by Charles Dickens when he heard a knock on his door. Annoyed to be disturbed when he desperately needed some alone time, he considered simply not opening the door. But the knocking resounded a second time. Snape sighed, put his book aside and stalked over to his door.

"What?" he asked as he opened his door rather swiftly. He was more than a little bit surprised to see Maya standing at the other side. He raised an eyebrow and smirked at her.

"Are you lost again?" he asked.

Maya chuckled but it sounded a bit forced. "Not this time," she said, "The signs you put up have helped me greatly in manoeuvring through the castle."

Snape took in Maya's fidgety appearance and frowned. "Is something the matter?" he asked.

"May I come in?" Maya asked in return.

"If you are not planning on releasing a family of mice or anything of the sort," Snape said evenly.

Maya chuckled again and Snape noted that it still didn't sound genuine. "Very well," he said, "Come in and have a seat."

"Thanks," Maya said, sitting in front of the fireplace. "Oh," she added as she noticed the book on his side-table. "I didn't peg you for a Dickens-enthusiast."

"On occasion," Snape told her, pouring her a cup of tea. "Now," he said sternly, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I believe we need to talk," Maya said.

Snape was genuinely confused. "About what?" he asked, "Did something happen with Alex?"

"Oh no," Maya said, "Nothing of the sort. No, I meant that we needed to talk about that article. You know, -" she added when Snape raised an eyebrow, "-The one in Witch weekly."

"Ah yes," Snape smirked as he sipped his own tea, "It was a nice try but you forget that you're dealing with the head of Slytherin house."

Maya regarded him carefully, staring as if Snape had grown a second head.

"What?" Snape asked.

"Do you truly not realise?" Maya asked, "Or are you being deliberately obtuse?"

Snape furrowed his brow at the History Professor and gently placed his cup on its saucer. "Surely, I have no idea what you're implying," he said carefully.

Maya turned rather red as she too set down her cup. She clasped her hands firmly in her lap and breathed in deeply as if she was gathering courage.

"Maya –"

"I like you," Maya blurted out. Snape's eyes widened slightly and he found himself staring at the woman in front of him.

"All those things I wrote in the article – well – I believe them all to be true," she said, "I really admire you and I have for a while now."

Snape's lips tightened and his stare hardened. Up until now, their pranks had all been innocent and fun but this? This went too far.

"That's a rather cruel thing to say, don't you think?" Snape said harshly. "I would think that an intelligent woman such as yourself would understand such a thing as boundaries but clearly you do not."

"Severus, I-"

"No," Snape interrupted coldly, "I don't know who put you up to this or what gave you this idea but you can consider this relationship we've had between us to be over."

To Snape's shock, Maya actually began to cry. A fine actress indeed.

"You don't understand!" she pleaded, "I never –"

"Spare me your redundant excuses," Snape snarled, "I've heard enough. Please leave."

"But I-"

"NOW!"

Snape had never seen a fellow teacher scatter before his gaze as quickly as Maya did at that point. Usually, it was only the students in which he could instil such fright. But frankly, she deserved it. Harmless pranks and jokes were one thing. But playing with a man's heart like that. A man that knew very well that he was unlovable and would remain alone at that. Well, it was beyond cruel. And Snape didn't want a thing to do with a woman that would think such actions funny or acceptable.

Beyond angry, Snape aimed his wand at the book that lay waiting for him and blasted it into a million pieces. Bits of parchment floated around him as he sunk into his chair, burying his face into his hands.

At breakfast the next morning, Harry had piled a lot onto his plate. He was absolutely starving, possibly due to the excitement of the day before.

"So the Monotropa Uniflora has white blossoms when it's unpollinated," Harry explained to the only ones that would listen: Hermione and Neville. " But when its pollinated, the blossoms turn brown."

"Fascinating," Neville said sincerely, "Which blossoms would you need?"

"The white ones would be best, I think," Harry said easily, "Just to preserve purity."

"I think there might be some in greenhouse three," Neville told Harry, "If you want, I could ask Professor Sprout if I can harvest some later."

"That would be great, Neville," Harry said, "Thank you."

"Owl post," Ron said, glad to be able to interrupt their 'boring' conversation. Harry glanced at the owls but didn't see his own snowy white among the mix. Of course, she would still be in the dungeons. What he did see was a very formal looking barn owl head his way.

Without much ado, the owl dropped the next issue of 'The Practical Potioneer' next to Harry's plate where it wouldn't get dirty. Harry glanced at the head table to see if Snape received his issue as well. He saw that he did but frowned when he saw Snape sitting there, looking utterly forlorn. For some reason, Bell sat quite a few seats away from the dour man, seemingly just as depressed.

'What's wrong?' Harry wrote on his cuff.

After a second, he saw Snape look at him with a dark scowl. Harry pointed at his own cuff as a signal and Snape sighed exasperatedly before looking at it. He took much too long to read the short sentence and did not bother replying. Instead, he looked at Harry pointedly before turning his attention back to his eggs, though they were untouched.

'Staring at them isn't going to get them into your stomach.' Harry wrote.

This time Snape didn't look at him or the cuff. Instead, he got up from the table and left the great hall.

What in the world?

"Harry, I can't believe you got published again!" Hermione said.

Momentarily distracted, Harry looked at Hermione to see that she was already leafing through his magazine.

"Did I?" Harry asked in surprise. "What with? The magic muggle potion?"

"The potion that lets you summon ghosts," Ron said as he glanced over Hermione's shoulder, "Useful for clearing out old haunted houses, I'd wager."

Harry could not bring himself to feel too happy about this new publication. Something was wrong with Snape. Wrong enough to not even smirk at Harry in satisfaction as he found out about the article. What was going on?

Oh goodness. Do let me know how you feel about this chapter if you can. The next update will be on Monday. *dodges rocks*