Snape cleared his throat. "Well. As you two seem to have matters well in hand, I do believe I'll have that early night Harry suggested."
Once he was gone, Draco turned to Harry. "Would you like to play some Wizard's Scrabble or something?" When the other boy shook his head, Draco wheedled, "I'll give you five points an E..."
"Another time, I promise," Harry assured him. Strange to think that Draco needed reassurance, too. "Right now I have some writing to do, that's all."
"Oh, very well. I suppose I should get caught up on my own correspondence. Shall we work at the table together?"
"Think I'll work in the bedroom."
"Love letters, is it?"
"I wish. No. Just... regular stuff."
Draco nodded, then got his things and settled in at the table. Harry went into the bedroom and shut the door. What he had to write was personal, but not because it was a love letter. In fact, it wasn't a letter at all.
He fetched the journal Dudley had given him from his overstuffed trunk. He'd never used it before, but now, he had a lot to think about. Writing it down, he thought, would help.
It did. As it turned out, it helped a lot.
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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:
Chapter Fifty-Seven: Missing
Comments very welcome,
Aspen in the Sunlight
Chapter 57: Missing
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=5036&chapter=57
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A Year Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter Fifty-Seven: Missing
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The main thing Harry learned from writing in his journal was that even though no dream could affect his relationship with his father, he still really did want to know if the stupid thing was going to come true. If it was... well, he could handle it. Maybe for some reason as yet unknown to him, Snape was going to have to adjust their legal situation. It wasn't a prospect Harry enjoyed contemplating, but neither was it the end of the world. After all, he and Snape would still be father and son where it counted. Nothing was going to alter that; he knew it right down to the marrow of his bones.
All the same, he wanted to be prepared. And that meant finding out, once and for all, if seer dreams were fated to come true. Was the future already written out in full? Could he do nothing but read it? Or could he alter the flow of time itself?
He knew from experience that Snape had no real answers, not to questions like these, and of course it went without saying that he was going nowhere near Trelawney with a Divination question. That left it to him to research the matter.
But that was all right with Harry. Actually, it was high time he did something about his own magical problems, instead of waiting for Remus or Snape or Draco to hand him solutions on a silver platter. The problems were his, and he'd just been drifting, letting everybody else suggest techniques for him to try. It was time to take responsibility for himself, Harry decided. And as the latest manifestation of his magic was this seer dream, he'd start there, and investigate his own powers as best he could.
The day after they'd shared cocoa and crumpets, Harry Flooed a note to Madame Pince asking for some books on prophetic dreams. It took him a few days to read the materials she'd sent and conclude that they weren't too helpful. They all did agree on one thing, though. Dreams and emotions were inextricably interwoven, and seer dreams were no exception. Begin a dream diary, the books invariably advised. Write down your dreams in as much detail as you can possibly recall. Write them down the moment you awake, and meditate upon the meaning of it all.
That last bit was a bit too Trelawney-esque for Harry's tastes, but he didn't think writing down the dream was a bad idea. Already, the details were starting to blur in his memory. He figured he'd better get things down on paper before they got even fuzzier. The journal would serve well enough for that, too.
That night after dinner--it was Ron's fifth night studying in the dungeons--Harry waited until Draco was out of the room, then quietly brought out his journal.
"Sir," he quietly said, taking the journal over to the couch where Snape sat reading Ron's latest Potions essay, "I need a spell."
"Your hands?"
"No, they're fine for the moment." He dropped his voice a tad. "Could you charm this so it will only open at my touch? And... well, just make sure that it's fortified in particular against Draco, all right?"
Ron definitely heard that, Harry thought. The guest in the dungeons snorted.
Snape didn't comment at all; he simply charmed the journal and handed it back. Then he was taking up the essay. "Mr. Weasley, a word if I may."
Ron lumbered over, his posture screaming resentment even if his words were carefully polite. "Sir?"
Snape glanced him over. "Don't stand there like a stump. Take a seat."
Ron slid into one the easy chairs but held himself tensely.
"Properties of Charmed Potions," Snape read the title of Ron's essay. "You've explored only two subtopics when the assignment specified four. Continue, if you will."
"It's twelve inches," Ron pointed out, his jaw clenched. "As requested, sir."
"It's half the assignment no matter what your ruler may have to say. The points you make are well-developed, but the topic as a whole is incomplete."
Ron took the parchment Snape was extending. "W... well-developed?"
Snape looked faintly bored. "Without belaboring the point, yes. You have submitted half of a good essay. Need I point out that half equals fifty percent, which is an abysmal grade. Hence the request to continue."
"Good essay." Ron still sounded gob smacked.
"Potentially," Snape corrected.
Finally getting over the way that had gone, Ron wandered back over to the table and chewed a quill as he looked through his Potions text again. After a while, he leaned forward a bit to peer at what Harry was writing. "Diary?" he whispered.
Harry glanced up in surprise. Ron had been carefully civil ever since his return, but this was the first time he'd shown a real interest in anything except doing his schoolwork and getting back to the Tower.
"Yeah. Dudley gave it to me," Harry nodded. "I... There are some things I have to work out, and I think writing them down will help."
A faint frown creased Ron's brow, but then a cynical light in his eye eased the worry from his features. "At least you've got enough sense to know that Slytherin would do practically anything to get his hands on your private thoughts."
Harry thought about saying that Ron's brothers would do just the same. He frankly couldn't imagine Fred and George not breaking their way into a sealed diary... and leaving behind a surprise or two, most likely. He knew he'd better not mention anything about Draco being his brother, though. It definitely wouldn't go over so well. Maybe later, much later... after Ron had gotten used to the whole Snape-as-father situation.
"His name is Draco, not 'that Slytherin,'" he merely commented, making sure to keep his voice nice and mild.
Ron still saw fit to huff. "What's this with him calling me Ron? I mean, when he did it before, at least he was smarmy. Now he's just acting... I don't know. Weird."
Harry shrugged. "I asked him to call you Ron, actually."
"What is he, your pet Slytherin? He just does whatever you say?"