Harry had a sudden, ugly suspicion. "Has Snape been picking on Gryffindor like he used to?"
"What made you think he ever stopped?" Hermione erupted.
Ginny glared at her, and corrected, "He's been picking on everyone lately, Harry. Not just Gryffindor. He's been in a really foul mood. You haven't noticed?"
"Uh..." Harry didn't know what to say to that, since it made him sound so completely stupid to admit that no, he hadn't. What sort of son didn't even notice when his father was out of sorts?
"We had an accident in here and a bunch of Severus' books got destroyed," Draco saw fit to share. "Rare books. Probably some of them are irreplaceable, so chalk it up to that."
"He did throw Neville's book across the room," Ginny thoughtfully remarked.
Harry couldn't help but goggle. "He did what?"
"Well, Neville had let his potion boil over onto it. Snape really lit into him about showing a bit more respect for tomes of knowledge, as he put it... So I really do have to get going, Harry. I don't fancy a detention."
After the girls had gone, Harry flopped back down onto the couch and stared up at Draco. He hated that he had to ask something like this, but the question just wouldn't go away. "Um... you know, sometimes I think you know Severus better than I do... so anyway, did you mean what you said? About his books? Is he mad that I destroyed his own... er, tomes? I mean, he hasn't said so to me, not once..."
"Harry, I had to tell them something," Draco exclaimed. "Think strategy for once, will you? If Severus is out of sorts it's probably because he doesn't particularly enjoy class each day, knowing that after he leaves, he has to take us to Devon so he can hex and attack and pummel you! I'm sure you didn't want me to tell Granger that. She's a bit too curious about your injuries as it is! I think you'd better have Severus start healing anything that shows, all right? Otherwise she might decide you've been dueling, and we do not need her to start asking questions about your magic being back. What if she asks Weasley what he might have seen down here, eh?"
"I'll have Severus heal anything serious," Harry compromised. "But I can't go to him for every last thing. Some of those healing potions are built on an opiate base, you know--"
"Yes, I know," Draco drawled. "I thought you liked to dabble in the Muggle drugs?"
"Not opium," Harry laughed. Then he sobered. "And not since Severus lectured me about it."
"Yeah, the drugs-are-bad-for-you lecture. Second only to the revenge-is-bad-for-you lecture. I've been there. Although with me he tends to veer toward proclaiming that drugs are potion ingredients, not opportunities for recreation."
"Haven't heard that one," Harry admitted.
"You don't want to; it goes on for hours," Draco moaned. "Anyway, just make sure your friend," he sneered the word, "doesn't see any more bruises, all right? Hmm, I wonder if she's so curious because Weasley did say something to her about that Lumos. I knew we should have Obliviated him--"
"Ron's as trustworthy as they come," Harry sighed. "Listen, he had to explain why he was down here all night, so he told her he I'd gotten a concussion but he didn't know how, not exactly. He told her it happened before he ever showed up to visit."
Draco seemed to scowl at Harry's defense of Ron, but brighten at the information itself. "Oh. Well, that's all right, then. She might be smart, but even she can't reason things out without any evidence at all, so your secret's safe." He looked over toward the table where their schoolwork was scattered. "So, Transfiguration next? You're only up to third year spells in that one."
"Yeah, all right," Harry agreed, his mind still on Hermione. And Snape.
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It didn't take a genius, Harry realized later that night, to figure out that Ginny was right; something was bothering his father. They'd gone to Devon as usual, taking advantage of the lengthening twilight that heralded the approach of spring, but Snape had seemed on edge. The man was never very generous with praise, but he usually gave Harry some sort of encouragement. That night though, it was nothing but criticism and mocking disdain.
When Harry thought about it, he realized it had been coming on for a while. Yeah, Snape had been out of sorts for a bit. He probably should have noticed sooner, but it was hard to notice much when you were being hexed from all around. But even when they'd gone back home, Snape had been a little... standoffish, hadn't he? Like he had something on his mind. Something big. Evidently it was getting bigger.
That night after they returned home, Snape hardly spoke at all, except to demand that Harry show him his latest Potions essay as soon as they'd finished dessert.
A frown creasing his brow, Snape read the scroll from top to bottom in under a minute. Then he snorted and tossed it back toward the table with a contemptuous flick of his wrist.
Harry swallowed. "It's not that bad, is it?"
Snape glared. "Did you by any chance destroy your own books while you were destroying mine? Because this," he actually slapped the parchment, "certainly shows no sign of having been researched!"
Harry flinched, but tried to be fair. "I didn't check as many things as I should have," he admitted. "I've been busy with the spell lexicon and trying to figure out ways to word charms, things to try when we go to Devon each afternoon. I mean, I'm trying my best to make sure I can do something useful in this war--"
Snape abruptly stood up and stalked from the room.
Horrified, Harry jumped to his feet and called out, "I didn't mean that potions weren't useful, honest! Oh, come on, Dad!"
Snape turned back, his features schooled into hard lines, though what he said was, "Harry. You worry too much. Now attend to your studies." With that, he was closing his office door with such a definite thud that Harry knew better than to go after him.
"Maybe the books bothered him more than he was willing to say," Harry said, his eyes confused as he met Draco's gaze. "But what can I do? He won't let me have my key, so it's not like I can try to replace them."
Draco was looking at him like he thought Harry was brainless, which made Harry abruptly realize there was another solution at hand. "Um, Draco..." he ventured, more than a little uncomfortable. "Do you think you could lend me some money?"
The Slytherin boy's only reply was to burst out laughing.
"Well, sorry!" Harry snapped. "I know you think borrowing money is vulgar--"
"That's not it," Draco managed to choke out. "It's... oh sweet Merlin, have you always been this... dense? You don't need money to order things, I told you that."
Oh, right. Harry Potter could just say he'd pay later, Harry realized. He hated the idea of trading on his name, absolutely detested it. But if it would help Severus.... Sighing, Harry drew out a blank sheet of parchment and began to wonder how he was going to figure out exactly which books had been destroyed. Hmm.... the house elves had magicked the walls whole again, and repaired the charred furniture... maybe they had cleared away the damaged books? Dobby might be able to find out some of the titles...
Draco put a hand on Harry's wrist as the Gryffindor boy reached for the quill. "I didn't mean you should order any books. I don't know what's on his mind, Harry, but it's nothing to do with your Lumos, all right? He's glad your magic's back and told me a few books were a small price to pay."