"He knows I'm sick to death of my friends treating my life like a dueling platform."
Ron jerked back in his chair almost as though he'd been slapped. "Friends? Him, you mean?"
"No, I meant you. Listen... I don't want to fight with you. Not about anything. But as long as he's treating you politely, you might consider doing the same."
When Ron rolled his eyes, Harry left it at that, and kept writing in his diary.
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He wrote down the entire dream once a day for three days in a row, completely from memory, and then compared the versions. Interesting to see how much more he could recall on the third retelling. He was sure the memory was accurate, though. When he wrote it out the next time, no further details emerged, so with that, Harry figured that he'd done all he could to reconstruct it.
So, now what? His books all stressed that some seers dreamed in symbols, but Harry suspected that didn't apply to him. His dreams so far, at least the ones that had come true, had been literal. Even the brothers one, though apparently it had been presaging something far more profound than mere brotherhood in Slytherin House. The books didn't address literal dreams, though, so Harry concluded that he what he really needed were some better books. Much better books, and in a place like Hogwarts, that meant just one thing.
The next night, he waited impatiently through Snape's explanation of retrograde motion, his mind really more on his plan than on the planets. At length the Potions Master snapped his fingers to vanish away the miniature solar system he had conjured, and told them to finish their Astronomy essays. Accurately, this time, he specified, but not as rudely as he might have. Harry couldn't help but notice that the man really was trying hard not to set Ron off again.
Once Snape walked away from the dining room table, Harry set to work, but not on his essay. Behind his propped up text, he was scratching out,
Dear Hermione,
Thanks so much for coming down here every couple of days for the last few weeks, and bringing so many different Gryffindors along. It's better having Ron down here now that he doesn't have to do those ridiculous lines. I'm not blind; I thought Severus was horribly mean-spirited about the whole thing. It turns out he also had some complicated scheme in mind that he thought would help me. Anyway, the whole thing was completely mental. Sometimes Slytherins are just too sneaky for their own good. We got in a big fight about that and about some other stuff --I was pretty miserable for a while--, but in the end we talked it all out.
Strange as it might sound, I'm sort of glad we argued. Because now, it's not like I'm waiting on pins and needles for the other shoe to drop. (Sorry about the mixed metaphor. Severus complains I use too many Quidditch analogies in my essays, which I thought was pretty funny considering that's what you always say. I guess I should stop now before I mention that you have a lot in common with him. Yeah, definitely I'll stop.) Anyway, about the fight. I have this feeling now that we can get through good times and bad, just like regular families do. And that's a good feeling, it really is.
Well, enough news. I actually do have a reason for writing instead of just waiting for your next visit. I need you to do me a really important favor. Remember how you told me that you had a pass into the restricted section for the rest of the term? I know, I know, it's a limited pass and you're only supposed to use it to work on your advanced Arithmancy studies. Turns out though, that I need some books for a project of my own. I've exhausted everything Madame Pince has in the general student section. Anything you could get me about prophetic dreaming or seer dreams would be really helpful.
It's good to know I have friends I can really count on. Since I need the books just as soon as you can possibly manage, do you think you could use your pass tomorrow, smuggle some texts out, and either bring them down here yourself or send them with Ron when he comes? Thanks, Hermione. Thanks a million.
Love,
Harry
P.S. Draco says you're cute.
He slipped the letter into an envelope and passed it across the table to Ron, then realized that maybe he should erase the bit about what Draco had said. Then he shrugged. He trusted Ron not to sneak a peek, so that was no problem, and Hermione wasn't likely to misunderstand the comment. She wouldn't think Draco liked her or anything. Harry wasn't even sure why he'd put that bit in. Maybe he just wanted Hermione to know that Draco wasn't quite as prejudiced as he liked to make out.
Clearing his throat, Harry whispered to Ron, "Could you make sure Hermione reads this tonight?"
Snape's sardonic voice broke in before Ron could answer. "So. Miss Granger is consulting with you on retrograde motion, is she, Harry?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "It's a letter."
"You have a penchant for dealing with your post at the most inopportune times."
"I'll write the essay in the morning. It's not due until Friday, anyway, and I'm in a mood tonight to do something besides study, I think." Harry gave his father a rather pointed look.
Snape seemed to understand the unspoken message. "Shall we play a round of Wizard's Chess, then?"
"Sure." Harry got the set from its place on a bookshelf and began tapping the pieces with a fingernail to wake them up. The white queen yawned and cradled her head in her arms, but came to attention at a baleful glare from Snape.
Ron pretended to ignore them as they began the match, but Harry could see him watching out of the corner of his eye. He winced the first time Harry moved a knight and actually groaned out loud when he castled. An amused glint lit up Snape's dark gaze.
When the match was over, Snape winning as usual, the Potions Master turned toward Ron. "So you believe you could do better, Mr. Weasley?"
Ron looked startled as he glanced up from his essay. Assessing the board briefly, he nodded.
"Should you like to demonstrate that?" Snape inquired.
Ron looked sorely tempted--no doubt he was fantasizing of soundly trouncing the Potions Master--but all he said in reply was, "No thanks. I've got this to finish and a big pile of other work."
"Ah, well, another time then." Snape went and sat on the sofa where he resumed flipping through a potions journal.
"Don't forget to give Hermione the letter," Harry reminded Ron. Then, taking up his Astronomy text, he went to sit beside his father where they proceeded to read in comfortable silence.
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The next afternoon, when Draco was in the Potions lab working up some new concoction, the Floo abruptly flared to life. Harry jumped about a yard, almost knocking his half-finished astronomy essay off the table.
When he turned toward the sound, he expected to see Snape. The Potions Master didn't often contact them during the day, but it did happen on occasion. It wasn't Snape's familiar features peering out of the fire, though.
"Harry," Albus Dumbledore requested, his features lacking their usual solemn smile, "could you please Floo up to my office for a chat?"
Harry's first reaction was shock to be invited at all; it seemed to him that the headmaster had been avoiding him for a long, long time. His second reaction was to remember how he'd gotten burned while talking with Hagrid. Instinct had him backing away from the fireplace.
The headmaster looked a bit impatient. "Now please, Harry," he prompted, sounding rather ominous. "I need to speak with you."