Chapter Text
A small part of him must have known it was inevitable. Maybe that was why, when a memory of his time with the Dursleys came up during Harry’s Occlumency lessons with Snape, he simply stared back at the man. Defiance in his eyes after the spell got canceled. He stood straight and felt his face go blank in the way Slytherins used their so-called 'Pureblood Mask.'
He stood with his arms at his sides, the picture of blank nonchalance.
Spine straight, shoulders back. Maintain eye-contact.
It was unclear why today was the time when the unpleasant memories that Snape seemed drawn to were the ones of his home life. Harry was almost surprised that it had taken this long. Surely a place that made somewhere as dangerous as Hogwarts seem like his only home would have been on the top of the list? Or maybe it was Snape’s preconceptions about Harry’s home life that had kept him away. Doubting that anything there would be unpleasant enough to traumatize Harry a second time just by viewing it.
Whatever the case, it hadn’t stopped the rush of images this time. Every scolding, beating, and punishment being swept before his eyes until all he could do was stand there, breathe evenly, and pretend he was fine.
It was almost funny the way he could only seem to close off his emotions when it was related to something that he didn’t want to talk about, or even acknowledge.
As he stood there, Snape eyed him, still standing with his wand raised, looking almost as if he expected some form of retaliation. Which was honestly fair, considering Harry’s reactions to Legilimency in the past.
After what seemed like five minutes, but was likely only 30 seconds, Snape cautiously lowered his wand, not taking his eyes off of Harry. His abnormally good posture. His blank face.
Snape inhaled and opened his mouth as if to speak, but then let the breath go on a frown.
Harry still did not move.
After another moment, Snape flicked his wand toward the corner of the room, and a tea-service with two cups appeared, busying themselves with the making of tea.
Harry blinked, surprised, still showing no outward emotion.
Once the teacups had finished, Snape plucked both of them out of the air. He held one out to Harry. He didn’t take the cup, didn’t move at all, except to raise an eyebrow.
Snape sighed and finally spoke.
“No, it’s not poisoned.” He sounded tired and uncharacteristically unsarcastic. “I understand that those are not the type of memories that one wishes to discuss under any circumstance, and so I am offering tea.”
Harry shifted, his whole body seeming to thaw from its stationary state. He reached out a cold hand and carefully took the cup before cradling it in both of his hands close to his chest. He gazed into the amber liquid as if it held all of the answers he needed.
Snape took a sip of his tea, still carefully watching Harry. It was only after several minutes, once Harry had sipped his tea, that Snape spoke again.
“She wasn’t always like that.”
Harry’s head snapped up at the soft, nostalgic tone coming from the bitter potions master.
“When we were eleven, I remember Petunia being fascinated by magic. She desperately wanted to be a part of the world that her younger sister had been welcomed into.”
Harry felt both of his eyebrows go up. Snape was talking about his aunt as if he knew her. More than that, as if he had been friends with his mother .
“I heard she even owled Dumbledore to ask him if she could come to Hogwarts too.” There was a sad sort of smile on his face, and all Harry could think is that it didn’t look as out of place as it should.
“He, of course, told her no, that it wasn’t possible, and that was that for a while.”
Snape’s expression suddenly darkened, and Harry had the odd experience of having that infamous scowl being directed at a cabinet instead of his person.
“Over time, she became bitter. It didn’t help that Lily–” he seemed to run out of breath for a moment, and Harry realized that the Professor was feeling grief about Harry’s mum of all people."Lily was brilliant. People remember her now as your mother, as Lily Potter. But when we were in school, Lily Evans was talked about the same way many refer to your friend Miss Granger.” Snape took a sip of his tea, and his lips twitched in amusement, eyes lost in some old memory.
“I remember the first time Dumbledore called Granger the ‘Brightest Witch of her Age,’ Flitwick practically killed him on the spot. The reason being, that was what everyone called Lily during her time in school.”
Harry swayed a little on his feet, shocked to be hearing so much about the parent that no one seemed to mention apart from the eyes he was told they shared.
Snape caught the slight movement, and a flick of his wand later, there was an armchair directly behind Harry. Unwilling to continue to unpack everything that was currently happening, Harry gratefully collapsed back into it and took another sip of tea.
Snape continued his tale. “I think their parents may have compared the two girls. Whatever the case, by our fourth? Third? I believe it was our Third Year the sisters were barely on speaking terms with one another.”
He gave a one-sided shrug. “It was essentially ex-communication after that.” He finally looked back at Harry.
“All this to say, your aunt has been bitter about magic for a while. I have no idea who in their right mind would not only put you in that house to begin with, but also make you continue to live there once you were a part of this world.”
Harry blinked.
Snape looked at the ground. “I also recognize that I have seen your father in your place and have not given you the opportunity to prove who you truly are to me.” He looked up, and onyx met emerald. “I also realize that this is a lot to take in.”
Harry nodded.
Snape frowned. “Who did decide where you live?”
Well, that was an easy question to answer. “Dumbledore.” Harry finally managed to speak.
Snape’s expression darkened. “And I assume he has some reason you must stay there?” There was a dangerous edge to his voice.
Harry shrugged. “He says my mother created some kind of protection when she died for me. He also kept repeating something about blood wards around the house, and it’s not like they would be anywhere else they are my only living relatives.”
Snape suddenly became very calm. “Would you have a problem with me leaving for a couple of minutes? I find myself with the sudden urge to light a colleague on fire.”
“If you’re already lighting people on fire, could you add Umbrage to the list?” The words are out of his mouth before he could think better of it. To his surprise, Snape merely chuckled and agreed.
“Well, something is bound to happen that parents catch wind of that will get rid of her.” Harry added thoughtfully, “and if not, well, I’m honestly starting to believe in the so-called curse on the position.”
Snape frowned. “What do you mean ‘catch wind of’?”
Harry opened his mouth to say something about his detention but found he couldn't talk about it. Damn secrecy spell. He frowned and tried again.
< She made me write with a quill that used my own blood as ink. > Harry blinked at his sudden ability to talk about the incident.
“As you suddenly switched languages, I’m assuming there’s some sort of secrecy spell on you.” Snape seemed bothered, and Harry wasn’t sure if it was because of the secrecy spell or his accidental switch to Parseltongue.
< Fuck. >
“Is there a way you could demonstrate or show me what it is you’re talking about?”
Harry wordlessly raised his right hand, the back facing Snape.
“That is… “ he trailed off as he studied the raised and red words on the back of Harry's hand.
When he spoke again, he was using the same deadly calm tone as when he mentioned setting the Headmaster alight. “Did she make you use a blood quill?”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “What’s a blood quill?”
“A highly illegal Dark Artifact which uses the writer’s blood as ink.”
“Ah. Then yes. Wait, illegal?”
“Very.”
“Wait, if it’s that Dark, how did it get past the wards? Like I get that Dark Creatures end up in here regularly, but surely they would at least have alerted Dumbledore.”
“While I have concerns about your confidence in the regularity of Dark creatures ending up in the castle, my main question is how you know that much about wards. It does not seem like something you would seek knowledge about, and I know there are no classes about them at your year level.”
“Hermione,” Harry explained. “She was talking about the Hogwarts wards earlier today. She was saying that for most wizarding homes, the wards are keyed to the head of the family. Or in the case of a couple living alone, sometimes both of them. At Hogwarts, the wards were created by the Founders, and they managed to alter them in a way where they will automatically key themselves to the current Headmaster or Headmistress.”
“I must confess that I am unsurprised she knows that.”
“She’s read Hogwarts, A History more times than I’ve nearly died at Hogwarts.”
“That is… a concerning comparison.”
“Fred and George created a self-updating sheet that they put up in the Common Room with a permanent sticking charm.”
“That is very... Gryffindor of them.”
Harry snorted, “you say that like those two didn’t almost end up in Slytherin.”
A look of what could only be described as fear crossed Snape’s face before it quickly vanished. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
A sharp grin suddenly appeared on the Gryffindor’s face. “They aren’t the only Gryffindors who the Hat said would do well in your house. None of them would ever admit it, of course, but that doesn’t mean the Hat forgot.”
“You make the Sorting Hat sound like the boogeyman.”
“I mean… “ Harry had several memories of the Hat flash through his mind. “As someone who immediately argued with the Hat, I think I have reason to fear it.”
His eyes suddenly open very wide. “Oh my god, what if all the students got re-Sorted every year. Like the Seventh Years would get to the feast first, get Sorted, and then sit, and then the Sixth Years, and so on.”
His face filled with horror, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “What if one year you argued with the Hat, and the next year it purposefully separated you from all of your friends? ”
Snape interrupted before Harry's eyes could get any more glazed with horror than they already were.
“While an intriguing concept, I do not believe you have anything of that sort to fear right now.”
Snape seemed almost amused at the concept. “However, if he got wind of it, I would not put it past Dumbledore to institute that idea.”
“Never mention this ever again, got it.”
Harry visibly hesitated before saying his next words. “When you were speaking earlier…" he paused.
“Did you know my mum?” He hated how vulnerable he sounded.
“She was my best friend for years.”
“I… what?” Harry's head snapped up to look at the dour Professor, only to quickly look back down.
“Unfortunately, I made a couple of terrible decisions, and she fully cut me off when we were in the Fifth Year.”
“… do I want to ask?” Harry looked up cautiously from his teacup, still clutched a little too tightly in his hands.
Snape sighed. “I was, and remain, a fool. I said something I deeply regret. I called her the M-word. And when she did what any sane person in that position would do, and cut me off, I just went Darker.”
He looked Harry in the eye. “I got the Mark. Now I’m stuck with it. I’m a spy for two men who see themselves as the players and the rest of us as chess pieces. I still blame myself for Lily’s death.”
His lips flattened into a thin line.
“It truly was my fault.”
Another deep sigh. Another flick of his wand to summon an armchair.
“Dumbledore does not want you knowing this because he believes your ignorance will protect you. Personally, I lean towards the more Ravenclaw belief that knowledge is power.”
He sat down.
Harry sat up straighter and tucked one of his legs onto the cushion of his armchair, hands relaxing to cup his tea instead of strangling it. It was rare that an adult was this transparent with him.
“None of this is fair, and part of me hopes it won’t come to pass, but…"
Snape refilled his teacup and drank half of it before continuing.
“There’s a prophecy about you and the Dark Lord. Trelawney gave it in Dumbledore’s presence. I overheard part of it. It says that one of you must die by the hand of the other. The Dark Lord assumed it was about you because it said 'the one to defeat him,'" he used one hand to sketch air-quotes, something that Harry realized he had never seen a wizard do in casual conversation before.
"Would be born at the end of July. It could easily have been Mr. Longbottom. That was when I opened my eyes, to be frank. Yes, I was bitter that she cut me off, but I wasn’t about to do nothing when someone told me they were going to kill my best friend.”
Silence pervaded the room.
After a minute, Harry broke it.
“Do prophecies always come true?” His voice was almost a whisper.
“Very rarely, that I know of.”
There was a comforting note to his tone. Harry wasn't sure if he was willing to be comforted by it yet.
“Many prophecies are self-fulfilling. Part of this one says that he will mark someone as his equal, so if he had chosen to, say, throw you out of the window, the way most people would attempt to kill a baby,” Harry snorted, “instead of giving you that scar, he probably wouldn’t have kick-started the thing in the first place.”
“That’s probably the only reason Trelawney still has her job.”
“I find myself unwilling to argue that point.” Snape eyed him before continuing.
“I have a question for you now.”
Harry tensed.
“What was your comment about dark creatures in the school about?”
Harry relaxed and answered easily, ticking the years off on his fingers.
“First Year, that Cerberus that Hagrid thought was a good idea to name Fluffy, also a dragon named Norbert. Well, Norberta now. Second Year, the basilisk that was petrifying people,” he wrinkled his nose. “But technically Salazar Slytherin put that in here so I’m not sure that counts.”
He continued, “Third Year, Lupin brought in a lot of creatures for practical lessons and he's a werewolf, but I’m pretty sure all of that was approved by Dumbledore. Fourth Year was the tournament, and Professor Moody was actually Barty Crouch Jr., but there was so much going on then that who even knows what else was happening. This year," he paused to think for a second. "Well I haven’t encountered any dark creatures yet, but I’ve learned to not get optimistic about these things.”
“A dragon named Norbert. That is now Norberta.”
Harry grinned. “Malfoy was actually right about the whole dragon thing. Hagrid hatched it in his hut, and we had to convince him keeping a dragon in a wooden building was a bad idea. When Malfoy caught us, we had just handed the dragon off to a couple of Charlie’s friends who were on their way to the dragon reserve he works at. Charlie Weasley, Ron’s brother.” He added after a second, realizing that the clarification was needed.
“And that was when you got detention and saw the Dark Lord drinking unicorn blood.”
“Well, when you put it like that..."
“How else would you put it?”
“Oh, I’m not saying it didn’t happen, it very much happened, and it was very much horrible, but I guess I didn’t realize how… action-packed my school days have been.”
“Indeed. What has Dumbledore said about the blood wards around your relatives' house?”
Harry blinked at the sudden change in subject and the fact that, like Harry, Snape had said relatives and not family .
“That they are a result of my mother trying to protect me before she was murdered. That they keep me hidden from Voldemort. That's about it.”
“Has he, or anyone else, ever told you about the various types of wards and protections?”
“No, but that honestly isn’t a shock at this point.”
“That isn’t a good thing.”
It was unclear if Snape was referring to Harry’s ignorance or his lack of surprise about it.
“There are many types of wards, and blood wards are only truly effective if there is a strong emotional bond among those under its protection.”
“So you’re saying that Dumbledore has been unnecessarily forcing me to go back to that house every summer, even though every year I ask him if I can stay with literally anyone else.”
Snape blinked. “That is correct.”
Harry sighed. “How many types of wards are there, roughly?”
“Hundreds.”
“Great." He sighed, "you know this is where I ask Hermione to help me.”
He flopped back in the armchair, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.
Snape's voice was hesitant when he next spoke as if afraid to give false hope.
“There is also a possibility… a low one, that your mother was the one to give you that scar. Not the Dark Lord.”
Harry blinked and sat back up.
“People say it’s in the shape of a lightning bolt,” he continued, running a finger around the rim of his teacup and looking into the fire.
“However, it is also the same as sōwilō , the sun rune, for victory, guidance, and more relevantly, protection.”
“You think there’s a possibility that my mother used an ancient rune to protect me and that’s why the Killing Curse backfired?”
Harry was in shock. He was going to have to ask Hermione everything she knew about this rune as soon as possible.
“It’s small, but knowing Lily, I would not discount the possibility.”
“Can you… “
Snape raised an eyebrow. Harry didn’t see it, however, because he was staring intently into his tea.
“What was she like?” When he spoke, his voice was soft and quiet, as if afraid something would break if he articulated otherwise.
“Brave, kind, brilliant, and way too stubborn for anyone to tell her what to do. Some said too stubborn for her own good. She was fierce, loyal, and not afraid to be herself. She held herself and those around her to seemingly ridiculous standards. However, she also knew what people’s capabilities and limits were and would adjust accordingly. She always wore her hair in a high ponytail, and her hands were always ink-stained. She hit James Potter over the head with a book of charms that was, and I quote, ‘bigger than his ego,’ the first time he asked her out in the Second Year.”
His eyes got wistful. “People were talking about it for months. I’m pretty sure that moment is why there is now technology that lets you turn memories into photographs.”
Harry’s brain whirred with all of the new information about his parents. “She hit him with a book?”
“Oh yes, he asked her out pretty much once a month for years until he figured out how to not be a stalker and let her do her own thing. They regularly got into arguments that would lose Gryffindor almost as many points as the various trouble your father and his friends did. It wasn’t until halfway through our Sixth Year that they went on their first date.”
“No one ever told me,” Harry mumbled.
Snape frowned at that. He casts a quick Tempus , before replying.
“Our lesson is officially at an end.”
He summoned a scrap of parchment and a quill from his nearby desk. The quill started writing a list while he continued to speak. “I am giving you this list of books on Occlumency, Legilimency, and Wards to browse in your free time. Underlined books are the most important. If necessary, give Granger the list, and have her summarize their content for you.”
He paused. “I will try and do something about Umbrage, but I’m not sure I can. Unfortunately, the fastest way to improve your living situation is to acquit Black and that will take…" he trailed off.
Harry just sighed. “Yeah, I know.”
“I will do what I can.”
Snape got a half-smile in return.
“Thank you.”
~•~
As he walked back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry read over the list that Snape had given him. There were only three books underlined on said list, one from each subject. When he looked at the bottom of the parchment, he saw a note.
“ This paper is charmed so that once you cross off the titles that you have read, it will self-update and pick either new books on the list or give you different underlined options."
“Huh.” Harry walked directly into the bottom step of the stairs leading out of the dungeons, making a scuffing thump that echoed off the walls.
“Fun times,” he muttered sarcastically. He heard a snort from down a side corridor and immediately started up the steps lest the unknown (probably Slytherin) student realized whom they were laughing in response to. He got halfway up the stairs before his scarf slipped off and somehow managed to fall most of the way back down the stairs.
“Really?” he muttered. He turned around, all ready to retrieve the offending garment when the Probably Slytherin Student came around the corner. Not only was the student Definitely Slytherin, but it was none other than Draco Malfoy. Harry groaned as Malfoy caught sight of him.
Before Malfoy had a chance to say anything rude, and therefore tempt Harry into hexing him, he cut him off.
“Look, I’m just trying to get back to Gryffindor Tower and pass out, but my scarf hates me, so if we could avoid the whole argument thing, that would be fantastic.”
“Why are you even in the dungeons to begin with?” Malfoy challenged.
“Oh, for- I had detention with Snape. He gave me a reading list,” here Harry waved the parchment in the air. “And now I wish to pass out before anything else goes wrong. Otherwise, I may just walk right up to Voldemort and tell him to finish what he attempted to start. Twice.” He felt his eyes flicker with something undefinable on the last word.
Malfoy’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t say anything else, so Harry picked up his traitorous scarf, turned around, and continued on his merry way.
~•~
Once he finally got back to Gryffindor Tower – thankfully without any more interruptions – Harry immediately went to the nearest couch and face-planted along its length. The parchment still clutched tightly in his left hand, right arm folded under his body.
He let out a deep sigh, muffled by the couch, and heard some unknown younger-year say “go get Ron and Hermione,” before the sound of quick footsteps scampered off. That’s reasonable.
Harry realized that very soon, panic that he had opted to ignore in favor of numbness and confusion was going to set in. He hoped Ron and Hermione would show up before then.
Just as he was worried his friends wouldn’t show up on time, he heard a “Harry? Are you alright?” from somewhere to his left. Hermione. Thank Merlin . He let out another groan in response, no longer having the energy to lift himself into a sitting position.
“You alright mate?”
Harry shrugged. He heard Hermione put up a Muffliato .
“Did something happen with Snape?”
He almost started laughing at the worried tone she used. ‘Did something happen’ indeed .
He let out another groan, and rolled onto his back, left arm now squished uncomfortably against the rear of the couch.
“I mean something always happens with Snape, technically.” He said to the ceiling.
Hermione let out an irritated huff. “You know what I meant.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I do. And no, not exactly. He acknowledged that he has been treating me as if I was my father, and he gave me tea. So, yes, something happened. Oh!"
He held up the parchment that was being crinkled in his left fist.
“He also gave me a reading list, mentioned setting two members of the faculty on fire, and told me more about my mum than I’ve ever heard from anyone else.”
Silence greeted his tired but energetic little speech.
“You sure that was him, mate?”
Ah, Ron. Always one to remind one of reality.
Harry snorted. “Yeah, it was him. I mentioned The List,” here he gestured to the parchment that Fred and George had tacked up on the wall, “and his response was ‘how… Gryffindor of them.’” Harry imitated the Professor with startling accuracy.
Hermione, who had been trying to process and analyze everything that Harry had said during this time, interrupted amid Ron’s laughter.
“I’m guessing whatever prompted this change has something to do with your parents?”
Harry’s face made a complicated expression.
“Well…" he hedged. “Something like that.”He stayed lying on his back, but Hermione could see the tension in his body had pressed him further into the couch. She frowned. There was only one thing that made Harry tense up like this around her and Ron, and it was–
Oh no .
“He saw your summers.” It wasn’t a question.
Harry’s flattened lips and averted gaze, however, were more than enough of an answer.
“What?” Ron somehow hadn’t caught on. He was a brilliant chess master. However, when it came to people and their emotions, he could be almost impressively ignorant.
Hermione forged ahead, knowing that Harry was, in his own way, giving her permission to continue asking yes or no questions. It was up to her to read the answers from his body language. This was, after all, the way he had opened up to her about the Dursleys, to begin with.
They didn’t talk to Ron about it, but at the end of First Year, she had found him on the verge of a panic attack at the prospect of going back. Since then, they had talked about ways to make it easier for him but had yet to find any real solutions. It was why they were so close— something that Ron sometimes seemed to be jealous of.
“Did he see anything specific?”
A slump. That meant he was ready to talk. Sure enough, he lolled his head toward her, and anguished eyes met her own. “He saw everything, ‘Mione. All of it. It was like a speedrun of all the greatest hits of my childhood, and then some. The only thing missing was the snake incident. There was only the consequence part and the letters.”
“Oh, Harry.” She dropped down to her knees and pulled him into a hug, holding him tighter than necessary. They both knew it was because she wished she could have protected him from that particular horror.
His arms slowly came around her, and that was when she felt him shaking.
She pulled away, and without looking up, said “Ron, can you get a calming draught from Madam Pomfrey? Tell her I said it’s a Code Scorpion. She’ll understand what I mean,” hands still resting on Harry’s shoulders.
“But-"
“Ron. Now.”
He huffed out a “fine,” and left the Common Room to the sound of Harry muttering “it’s more of a Code Lobster, ‘Mione, I’m fine, really.”
After Ron left, Hermione got a soft “thank you.”
Hermione knew Harry wasn’t comfortable talking about his home life with Ron. He only felt comfortable talking about it with her because of the bullying she had also endured at the Muggle school that she had gone to. Both of them had dealt with racism before Hogwarts. It was part of the reason why both of them were so bothered by the obsession over blood status, even if only Hermione was actively harassed about it.
Although Harry’s blood was Indian and Hermione’s African, they both knew a similar impact of Britain’s colonization of what they viewed as 'lesser' countries.
Not only was Ron white, but he also had grown up in a large and loving family. Neither of them was used to having many friends, so they had an odd solidarity that many people, especially those from wizard families, didn’t understand.
She sat with him on the couch now, curled up against her side, one hand running through his hair. She was pleased to have introduced the concept of conditioner to him back in Second Year, as it was deceptively soft now but still messy as ever.
“Do you want to speak, or for me to ask questions?” She murmured once she felt him relax a fraction and nuzzle into her warmth. He got cold easily, so he was always a little cuddly after having been in the dungeons.
“I don’t know where to start,” he admitted softly.
“How about we start by either moving closer to the fire or getting you a sweater?”
He grinned. It was the type of comment he responded to with “yes, mum” around Ron, but with just them, it was okay for him to acknowledge how much it meant for someone to care about him like that.
“Just cast a warming charm ‘Mione.”
She rolled her eyes but did as requested.
“He knew my mum.” Hermione was almost surprised that Harry was capable of sounding that vulnerable. “They were best friends, ‘Mione, and no one ever told me .”
She waited for him to continue, pained by the rawness in his voice.
“Apparently, when he first asked her out, she hit my dad over the head with a book.”
There was a smile in his voice. She knew that it was because these little tales, these snapshots in time, are what was most important to Harry. Not the grand things. The everyday stuff.
Hermione chuckled. “So that’s where you get your stubbornness from," she teased.
“Apparently it is!” He was genuinely animated, and it had warmed her heart.
“He said that she was known for being stubborn. He also offered to light Dumbledore on fire for not properly educating me about Wards.”
“Did you tell him I know a good spell for that?”
Harry snorted and shoved her shoulder. “No, smartass, otherwise he would have figured out who lit him on fire First Year. He said that blood wards are only effective when those protected by them have a strong emotional bond.”
“Can you tell him I’ll help him set Dumbledore on fire?”
“Sure. Umbrage is also on the list, by request. Also,” he held up his hand, the raised red marks still slightly raw.
“Apparently, the thing she made me use is called a Blood Quill. It’s illegal and Dark.”
Hermione had pulled out a piece of parchment by now and was taking notes, a habit she often took up to figure out what to research next. These notes, however, were more of a to-do list.
“Also, wards bring me to the reading list.” He held out his hand, and she massaged the cold fingers open to take the list.
“It’s titles on Occlumency, Legilimency, and wards. Underlined most important. Read bottom note.” His speech was getting clipped, with shorter sentences, and she knew that he was running out of steam.
She read the note on the bottom, then added a point to her list about looking into the charm mentioned. Under that, she put another note to schedule a meeting with Professor Snape for herself. There were things about Harry that few people knew, and she wanted to make sure Snape didn’t endanger her friend in any way. Harry’s secrets were few, but they were important to him.
Speaking of , she made a note to look into libel laws. Another, about lawyers.
“Do you want to hold onto this list, or do you want me to keep it for you?” She kept her voice soft, knowing his exhaustion was only amplified by loud speech and noises.
She felt him shrug against her, eyes closed and all but asleep on her shoulder.
“I’ll keep it for now, and then I’ll ask you again tomorrow, okay?”
She waited until he let out a sleepy “mm-hmm,” before continuing.
“I think Ron will be back soon, and then I’m making sure you get to bed.”
Few people would recognize the last part as a threat even fully awake. Harry was one of the even fewer, who recognized it in his current state, half asleep. He let out a grumpy sound in response and shoved his face further into her shoulder to fight off consciousness, glasses all but cracking under the pressure.
Hermione gave an affectionate roll of her eyes before abruptly standing up, causing him to fall face-first into the couch. He whined into the couch cushions before blearily glaring up at her, his glasses falling off of his face.
“I stand by the theory of your animagus form being a black kitten.”
“I resent that,” he grumbled.
“McGonagall might try to adopt you.”
“I will hate crime you,” Harry responded to Hermione, just as Ron appeared, walking back into the bubble of her Muffliato .
He raised his eyebrows. “Should I be worried?”
“Nah,” Hermione said. “I just told him that his animagus form is probably a tiny black kitten. Also, that a certain cat animagus that we know might try to adopt him.”
Ron looked like he very much did not want to even begin unpacking that, and instead reached out his hand and gave Harry the box he was holding.
“Pomphrey gave this to me with the instructions that it’s keyed to your magical signature so only you can open it, to visit her tomorrow at some point, and also that I tell you to ‘not downplay hardships or validity.’” He quoted in a poor imitation of the matron's voice.
“Thanks,” Harry clutched the box like it was a lifeline.
“Okay,” Hermione made a shooing motion with her hands.
“Up you get, you need rest.”
Harry didn’t argue and let her herd him up to bed without complaint.
Ron had felt a certain amount of jealousy about Harry and Hermione’s relationship. Looking at them now, however, he realized that they reminded him of the way his mother would fuss over him and his siblings.
He wasn’t completely clueless. Hermione hadn’t been all that surprised at the beginning of their Second Year when he told her about the bars on Harry’s windows.
In all honesty, she had been angrier than anything else. But she hadn’t treated Harry any differently, even when the twins had been kinder to Harry and, hell, even Ron himself had tiptoed around the subject. Watching her herd him up to their dorm, force him to brush his teeth even through all of the sleepy grumbling, and change into pajamas, made Rom realize that Harry needed someone like that. He needed someone to take care of him in all the mundane ways that Hermione did to both of them. Ron himself saw it as nagging, but for Harry? It was proof that someone cared. He watched Harry pull out a Dreamless Sleep potion from the box and down it immediately before handing said box and his glasses to Hermione. It made Ron realize that he needed to be there for him too. There were things that Harry only felt comfortable talking to Hermione about, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be supportive in his own way.
~•~
Ron’s thoughtful expression had made Hermione slightly nervous. As she gently set the box and Harry’s glasses on his bedside table, she heard a soft, “I hadn’t even noticed.”
She turned around cautiously. “Noticed what?”
She kept her voice low, even though she knew the potion would keep Harry under for as long as he needed to sleep. She was glad tomorrow was Saturday. He needed the rest.
“How much he needs it.” Ron was frowning. “How much you’re there for him. And how much he needs that. For there to be someone to look after him.”
He looked up at her, and there was anguish in his eyes. “I haven’t been doing nearly enough.”
Hermione smiled and sat down on the edge of Ron’s bed, hands propped on either side to balance her. “It’s not a surprise that you never noticed.”
He seemed a little affronted, so she continued, counting off on her fingers to make a point, feet pushing into the carpet to take the weight that her hands had held.
“Both of us didn’t know magic was real, we went to a Muggle school, we both experienced bullying and racism at said schools. We both have had fears of not being good enough to stay in this world that provided us with friends, and neither of us really had friends growing up until Hogwarts.” She paused, and when she looked at Ron, he felt as though she was looking into his soul. This time when she counted off on her fingers, it hurt even more somehow, even though it really shouldn’t.
“You grew up in a large family. You have supportive siblings and plenty of role models. You’ve never known a world without magic. Never even had to contemplate it. Even if you had grown up in a place where racism was relevant to you, you’re the second whitest person I know. You’ve never been told that the circumstances of your birth are going to dictate your life or your career. Harry and I both have that on two counts, maybe even three. You’ve never had to question these things because no one has ever told you about them or shown them to you before.”
She punctuated her words with a shrug. “And honestly, the saying that only privileged people can afford to not care about politics is true. You don’t have to care about it because the government won’t try to imprison or kill you just for being. Which, for you, is a good thing. But for the rest of us, we don’t always feel safe talking about it with people who aren’t affected by it. Even though Harry and I know we can trust you,” another shrug.
“There’s always that fear.” She gave him a sad smile, and all Ron can do is stand there because he had no idea, and she was still saying that it wasn’t his fault, but all he could think was that he should’ve known and that he should have done something .
She seemed to clock his reaction and gave a tired sigh. “I’ll talk to you about the important points tomorrow, but it’s late now and we need sleep. Just know that if you were being actively problematic about anything, you would not still be around. You’re honestly shockingly supportive for your profile.”
And with that, she was gone. Leaving behind only a reminder of her presence in the form of Harry’s folded uniform and Ron’s books being piled carefully in a neat stack on his desk without his notice.