By then, his vision was largely recovered; he no longer needed any help reading and writing. He didn't even need the Elixir except once each morning. Sometimes when he woke up in the night needing to go to the loo, he thought he was blind again, but since he didn't have a light to see by in any case, he couldn't be sure.
"Book not keeping your interest?" Snape casually inquired one evening in his office.
Harry realized that he'd been staring into space for a while. He wondered how long ago Snape had noticed. Disconcerted, he dragged his gaze away from his teacher's piercing black eyes. "It's the book," he murmured, finally gaining enough presence of mind to look down at the passage that had sent him into a blue funk. One finger indicating a passage, he flipped the book around and leaned forward to push it across Snape's desk.
Snape raised an eyebrow and read out loud, "Dreams reveal the focal points within us, showing in concrete images our hopes, dreams, loves, and fears."
"I was wondering how much of the dreaming stuff in this book even applies to me," Harry admitted, "considering... um, how much did Remus tell you about my seer dreams?"
Snape set down his quill and capped the bottle of red ink he'd been using. "Enough."
Harry looked up, his eyes haunted. "The only thing that kept me sane on Samhain was believing that my dreams had to be right, Professor. They'd said I'd live past it, no matter what Lucius Malfoy did to me. I clung to that with all my strength."
"Excellent stratagem, in the circumstances."
"Yeah, but now I don't want the rest of the dreams coming true."
"Harry. I am certain that your friendship with Mr. Weasley can withstand a bit of fisticuffs."
Harry sighed. "Remus really did tell you everything, I guess. But see... just the day before yesterday, I almost did hit Ron. Thanks for letting my friends come down more often, by the way."
Snape inclined his head slightly.
"Anyway," Harry rambled. "that was great of you, but sometimes I just can't believe how stupid and immature Ron can be. Almost the first thing he said to Dudley was, How's the tongue? which is just really cruel. It goes back to a joke the twins played on Dudley one time; they got him to eat some candy that made his tongue grow really long. Ten feet! Anyway, I just could not believe he would say that! I almost slugged him right there on the spot!"
"But you didn't."
"No. And see, I wonder if that was just it, then. That was my chance to punch Ron, and I passed on it. Would the future be that simple to change?"
"Quite possibly." Snape steepled his fingers together. "Divination isn't like Potions. I can't advise you with exactitude."
"Yeah, well I'm not asking Trelawney."
"No," Snape agreed. "Don't."
Harry nodded, and resumed his reading.
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"This letters business is getting really old," Draco complained over dinner a few nights later. "Honestly, Severus, I need to talk to some of these people!"
"No," Snape replied, shaking his head for extra measure. "The mood in Slytherin is still too dire. Someone will provoke you, Draco. We don't need that."
"Look, I lost it with Pansy. I admit it. Shouldn't have hexed her so hard she flew into the wall and cracked her head open. What do you want, a gold-plated apology? It won't happen again!"
"A cranial contusion was the least of what you did to her," Snape asserted as he calmly set his spoon down beside his half-finished bowl of vichyssoise. "Lucius trained you for battle, I know. But this isn't battle, Draco, it is war. Sometimes the most substantive results come from working behind the scenes."
"And you don't trust my impulse control," Draco sniped, slamming his own spoon down so hard that Dudley flinched.
Severus raised an eyebrow. "When you have just dented my antique mahogany table? No, I don't."
Draco snatched his wand out of his pocket and repaired the damage. "You say I have to stay here until there's no more danger, but the danger won't lessen until you let me out, Severus. I used to have a lot of sway in Slytherin, you know. I could get it back if you'd let me apply my charismatic charm to the problem. I could convince people that Potter here's not so bad."
"Call him Harry," Snape instructed, reaching for his wand. "Ten points from--"
"I'm just saying it how I'll have to say it to them," Draco stressed.
Snape didn't finish the command to the House counters.
"We're never going to get out of here at this rate," the Slytherin boy continued. "You have to let me do something--"
"Mr. Malfoy," Snape icily broke in, "You are laboring under a misapprehension. I do not have to let you do anything. You have to abide by my requests if you wish to continue living here. That decision is yours since, as you well know, you have been emancipated from all parental authority."
"I appreciate what you did, Severus--"
"Thank the headmaster. He is the one whose influence overcame your father's strident objections."
"I appreciate everything you're doing, Severus," Draco went on, raising his voice. "It's just... I want to do my part, too! Like I said I would! And I can't, not so long as I'm penned up in here."
Snape rose to his feet. "For now, your part consists of doing what I say, Draco. Write your letters. Keep up with your studies, and see to it that Harry gets caught up. I will know when the time is ripe for more direct action." Without another word, he strode toward his office.
Harry finished his grilled cheese sandwich and drank some milk. He wasn't sure what to say, especially not with Draco still fuming. Besides, he was getting a little desperate for some fresh air and sunshine, too. He could understand Draco wanting out.
"Christmas isn't too far off, you know," he finally thought to offer. "You know how most students go home for the holidays? Well, maybe the professor will let us out a little bit, then."
"Thank you," Draco sourly returned, "for pointing out that I no longer have a home to go to, for holidays or anything else. And what makes you think Severus wants to be stuck here?"
"Hey, Harry never got to come home at Christmas, either!" Dudley began, but Harry waved for him to fall silent.
"I didn't mean it that way."
"Well you wouldn't, would you? No offense, but the way this one talks," he hitched a thumb toward Dudley, "it sounds to me like you've never had a home at all. Some of us don't relish being stuck in the dungeons all through vacation."
"My point was that maybe we won't be."
"Yeah, sure," Draco muttered.
"Now who's being defeatist?" Harry lightly jeered, though Draco had given him something to think about, he really had.
Later, when Draco was reading and Dudley was moving wizard chess pieces and watching them smash each other, Harry went and knocked on Snape's open office door.
His professor shook his head at him. "I've told you before; you needn't knock."
Harry closed the door after he went in, which made Snape's brows rise up a tad. "Problem?" he inquired with deceptive mildness.
"Not really." Harry sat down in his usual chair and gravely regarded his teacher. "Just thinking. You're actually related to Draco, aren't you?"
"I'm sure I could ascertain the exact degree given an extensive family tree and several hours with which to peruse it," Snape dryly admitted. "But yes. How did you come to this stunning bit of knowledge?"
"Sirius told me that all the pureblooded families are interwoven."
"As indeed we are. The Potters included."
"Right," Harry agreed. "But see..." He leaned forward. "I was thinking about Christmas, actually. I've always stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays. Much better than going to the Dursleys, not that they ever wanted me to, of course. But... er..." Harry took a breath, then plunged ahead. "Well, I was thinking that you shouldn't be stuck here on my account, and Draco's bound to get pretty depressed when it really hits him that he can't be at his usual family whatever, besides which he's already depressed being down here so long with just me for company all day long."