For all that, though, Harry found he couldn't enjoy his Friday Potions lesson at all. No matter that they were making homemade marshmallows to eat with the fudge they'd cooked on Tuesday. Feeling jittery and full of dread, Harry did the only thing he could think of to calm him down. He snuck into the ingredients cupboard for a quick jab into both arms. There, that was better. He yanked his sleeves back down and buttoned his cuffs, weaving the needle back into the seam where he'd been keeping it.
It was working out really well to have it ready for use at all times.
As it turned out, though, the supply cupboard might not have been the most brilliant place to use the needle. When Harry turned around, Draco was there, right behind him. Harry couldn't tell how much his brother might have seen. Or understood, maybe.
Draco looked puzzled, but concerned as well. It gave Harry a horrible feeling, deep inside.
"What are you doing in here?" asked Draco, looking Harry up and down as if trying to figure something out. "We don't need any real Potions ingredients for marshmallows."
"What are you doing in here, then?"
Draco eyes narrowed, probably at Harry's annoyed tone. "In point of fact, I followed you. I've been trying to talk to you, in case you've yet to notice." Draco's voice grew even more petulant as he went on. "I just wanted to know if you're going to come down to dinner tonight, Harry. Severus did ask you, didn't he?"
Harry gritted his teeth. "You know he did. You put him up to it!"
"Yeah, because you're avoiding both of us! Did you think we wouldn't notice?"
"Just because I've been a bit busy lately--"
"Harry, I need to talk to you! As I believe I just mentioned?"
"Boys," interrupted a third voice, a blend of kindness and age. "I think that tasting has begun at your respective work-tables. Was there something in here you needed?"
"Just my brother," muttered Draco. "He seems to have gone missing."
Harry could only think that was a way of saying he wasn't quite himself. A reference to the needles?
"Maybe I know what you want to talk to me about," he retorted, the words so cool that he felt chilled just saying them. "Ever think of that? Maybe I'd rather not discuss it. Maybe my mind's made up!"
Draco's silver eyes hardened to grey. "Yeah, maybe it is. You know, I really did think I knew you well enough to . . . well just never mind, then!"
"Fine," said Harry, pushing past Draco to get out of the cupboard. "Never mind is fine by me!"
"Draco, my boy," Harry heard the headmaster say behind him. "Is everything quite all right?"
He tried to hear what Draco said in reply, but by then Hermione was at his side, pressing a freshly cut cube of marshmallow into his hand and chattering on about how she thought they might have used a touch too much orange-blossom water in their batch.
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Harry didn't want to go down to dinner at all, not after the argument in Potions class, but he didn't fool himself that he had any real choice. If he cried off, Severus would come find him.
And it wasn't like Harry had much chance of hiding from his father, not when Severus was the one who had the Marauder's Map, these days.
Harry scowled. Why hadn't Severus ever returned it? It wasn't like anybody needed to study it for evidence exonerating Draco any longer, now was it? Maybe Harry would just ask for the map back. He could use it to know if anybody was coming when he was using his needle in the loo.
When Harry arrived in the dungeons later that evening, his father was alone.
No Draco yet. Harry was a little ashamed to feel so relieved about that. He hoped Draco wasn't joining them at all, in fact.
Snape nixed that hope, though. "I told your brother I'd like a few moments alone with you," the man said as he led Harry back to his office and gestured for him to sit down. Snape had evidently just got home; he took a moment to sweep off his teaching robes before settling into the armchair opposite his son.
Harry was reminded of all the times he'd come in here to talk to Snape, just before and after his adoption. All the long chats they'd had, talking about everything and nothing. Just getting to know one another, really.
He'd kind of missed those since he'd moved back to the Tower.
But this wasn't going to be a chat about nothing. Snape made that clear from that start. "So," said the man as he crossed his long legs and peered intently at Harry, "I get the feeling you've been avoiding me."
Harry stiffened. "You get the feeling, or Draco's been saying so?"
Snape raised an eyebrow. "I happen to know that Draco senses something bothering you, yes. However, quite independent of that, I've noticed you moving to the opposite side of the room from me, all through each Defence class."
Harry hadn't been doing that deliberately. He hadn't even been aware of it. "Oh. Well, you do want us to rotate through several partners," he said, wincing at how feeble that sounded.
"Perhaps that's why I prefer to teach Potions. Much more difficult for the students to run away."
Sensing that had been an attempt at a jest, Harry made an effort to smile. "Sorry," he added. "I wasn't trying to run away. I think I'm just, you know, under some stress."
"Yes, I can see that." Snape gave him what Harry felt was a longish stare. "It occurs to me that when Draco recounted all that transpired at Lucius' house in France, he in fact could not tell me everything that had happened to you. He wasn't with you until Lucius released him from the snake pit."
Snape waited again, probably for Harry to respond in some way. Harry started to get the feeling that his father would wait forever, if need be. "Oh. Well, it wasn't so bad. I mean, it wasn't outright torture like Draco got." Harry swallowed. It was hard to talk about it, but he didn't want his father to know that. "Um, he just made a lot of really creepy threats about my eyes, and ended up destroying my crest, and made me undress--"
"Made you undress?"
That tone, just short of an outright roar, was enough to tell Harry that his father was getting entirely the wrong idea. "No, just my shirt!" he rushed to say, blushing at what Snape must be thinking. "And it was only to humiliate me, you know? It's not like he . . . uh, touched me or anything."
"Just your shirt."
Now Snape's voice was flat, like he found it hard to believe that Lucius Malfoy would stop at a shirt. A good point, considering. Harry figured he might as well explain the rest. "Well, he did threaten to make me undress some more. For his guests, he said. But then he decided he didn't want to alarm Draco. Lucius thought he could get him to switch sides, you know? But of course he was going to double-cross him afterwards."
Snape drew in a long breath, then blew it out so strongly that it made a stray lock of his hair waft upwards. "I am sorry the man abused you so."
Harry shrugged, trying not to think dark thoughts about how glad he'd have been at the time to loose his wild magic and burn Lucius to a crisp. "Well, technically, he didn't get around to any real abuse, Dad."
"You only think so because you have suffered far too much in your short life."
Probably true. "Well, I wasn't going to let him do anything really nasty. See, Lucius thought he had me under Imperius. I let him think that so I could wait for my best chance to do something to help Draco. You'd have been proud. I was being Slytherin."
"You are mistaken if you think I have pride only in your Slytherin tendencies," said Snape. "I told you from the start that your Gryffindor virtues have their uses as well."
Harry hadn't thought of that in a long time. The memory warmed him a bit, and helped him feel less fractured inside.