But what about the pattern? some thought snuck through to ask. The past. The spinning. The future. If it was just an average dream, why did it follow that particular pattern? Why did the dream disguise itself as something more than it was?
Good question, but when Harry thought about it, there was indeed an answer. Because the seer dream pattern is known to me by now, he firmly told himself. It was my.... what did that book say?... it was my subconscious, taking hold and making the dream the worst sort of nightmare I could have, the kind I'll actually wake up still believing. Or maybe it was my subconscious trying to warn me, even. Like... look out, Harry, this could end up happening... if you let this latest fight get out of control. Maybe my mind was trying to tell me that I'd better work harder to work this all out, or I could lose my father.
And I don't want to lose him.
I really, really don't.
So, Harry realized, whether the dream was a warning or just a nightmare, making the first move toward a reconciliation would be the mature thing to do. It seemed like forever since he'd thought about it, but he'd started this year trying to be a bit more mature, hadn't he? Lately, in the upheaval of the adoption and everything else, he'd lost track of that.
But Draco had been right; hiding in his room sulking--yes, he recognized it now, he had been sulking--was pretty childish behavior. Even if he'd sort of been trained to make himself scarce when Uncle Vernon was on a rampage. Snape wasn't like Uncle Vernon; Harry knew that.
Of course, Harry told himself, he hadn't been completely juvenile the day before. He had in fact already tried to work things out with Snape, but the man had locked the lab and then later, hadn't answered the knock on his bedroom door. Well, maybe he'd still been too angry to talk. Or maybe he hadn't even been home. How would Harry know? It wouldn't be the first time Snape had worked in his classroom office, or the larger potions lab that adjoined it, until the wee hours of the morning.
Give the man the benefit of the doubt, Harry decided.
Give the dream a good dose of doubt, too, he mentally added. Until he had some real reason to believe it, he was going to assume the dream had just been his own wandering mind. Because that's what most dreams were, right? They reveal our deepest fears.
So... he'd work hard to get back on good terms with Snape, and try his best to stay that way. And then the man wouldn't have any reason to unadopt him, right? Everything would be fine.
But your seer dreams always come true, a nagging little voice whispered in his mind. Always. Always always always.
Harry mentally shouted back at the voice: Shut up.
Because he wasn't going to think that way. He just wasn't. Rolling out of bed, he fetched some clean clothes, and went into the bathroom to shower and change.
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When he emerged, Draco was sitting up in bed. "You're up early."
The Slytherin boy's voice was matter-of-fact, holding none of last night's scathing scorn. Maybe he'd gotten it out of his system and was ready to be friends again? A bit encouraged by that, Harry made sure his own tone was level as he admitted, "Yeah, I didn't sleep so much."
"Nightmare?" Draco's voice that time was actually concerned, which of course made Harry feel like even more of a jerk than before.
"No, just... feeling guilty, I guess," he quietly admitted. "I shouldn't have said that, about your money. I'm very sorry."
Draco gave a shrug as though it wasn't any big deal, but to Harry the gesture seemed deliberate, not relaxed.
At a loss for how to proceed, Harry ventured, "What would you like for breakfast? I could Floo for whatever suits..."
"You go have breakfast with Severus," Draco advised. "I have a feeling the two of you are overdue for a little father-son chat."
Now Harry was left feeling like a total heel. "Oh, no... I mean, I don't want... well, I do, but..." He started over. "I really do think that Severus would have liked to adopt you, too--"
"I know," Draco interrupted. "We had quite a long talk about it."
"So come on out to breakfast," Harry urged. "I don't want you to feel excluded."
"Are you afraid to go out there alone and face him?" Draco challenged.
Hearing it put that way made Harry realize that he actually was. It was one thing to tell himself that he hadn't really had a seer dream about being completely rejected, but it was quite another to believe it. If he went out there to breakfast, and the man was still hateful and awful, still telling him to get out of his sight... well, that would be bad enough news that Harry was frankly reluctant to leave the room at all.
Giving up on waiting for an answer, Draco went on, "Listen, I shouldn't have said you were a coward, all right? I know for a fact you aren't. Your bravery on Samhain was impossible to miss, and it showed the Death Eaters up for the weaklings they are, and that's what opened my eyes to what I was about to choose." The Slytherin boy met Harry's eyes. "I somehow doubt I'd have lasted long in his service, which means your lack of cowardice saved my life. So.... what I said about your magic... I just meant, I'm really frustrated and worried that it's taking so bloody long to get it back, and I guess I think you have some... issues, getting in the way."
Yeah, issues... like dreams predicting an unadoption. If Harry was sure of anything, it was that he definitely had some issues. Starting with, how was he going to approach Snape to get them past their awful fight? What if his father still hated him?
"I'm not afraid to face Severus," he lied, biting his lip. "But um... just for reference, do you know how mad he still was last night? I mean, did he say anything about it?"
"We were actually pretty wrapped up in a Potions project."
Harry wasn't sure what he thought about that. He decided the best thing he could do was shelve it. "Are you sure you won't come out and have breakfast with us?"
"Think I'll have a lie-in," Draco said, faking a yawn. He slid back down into his bed, and waved a laconic hand for Harry to leave. "You go on."
So, Harry did, wondering all the while what sort of reception awaited him on the other side of that closed door.
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"Good morning," Snape calmly said when Harry emerged from the bedroom. The man had been perusing the Daily Prophet, but he laid it aside as Harry slid into his seat at the dining table.
"Er... good morning," Harry slowly answered. He wasn't quite sure how to act. Snape didn't seem boiling over with fury, certainly, but Harry still felt apprehensive. He poured himself a cup of tea, only to stare into his cup when he realized it was actually coffee. Ugh.
"Not your preference, I take it." Snape conjured a pot of tea along with a new cup, then poured and added milk, just the way Harry liked it.
"Thanks," Harry murmured, glancing at Snape over the top of his cup as he wondered what else he should say. Small talk, maybe. Before he could come up with anything, Snape broke the silence.
"Has your scar been bothering you?"
Harry almost flinched. All he could think was that Snape was trying to see if his magic was finally starting to stream back. Was he so eager to be rid of Harry?
"No, sir." Something inside him seemed to deflate with the quiet words, and it only got worse when Snape pressed:
"Are you certain? Not even a twinge?"
Shaking his head, Harry decided he'd better change the subject. "Er.... anything interesting in the Prophet, sir?"