That Saturday morning, Hermione kept shooting Harry suspicious looks across the table at breakfast. "I know what you're planning," she muttered. Harry grinned at her.
"It'll be fine, Hermione. Trust me." Maybe a little rule-breaking as a trio was just what Harry needed to stop feeling out-of-sorts. In the last few months, things had changed so much. Mostly for the better, but it was overwhelming at times. Some good old-fashioned mischief was just what the doctor ordered.
Harry pretended to see Ron and Hermione off at the Entrance Hall, then made his way towards the third floor, Marauder's Map in his pocket. As he reached the statue of the one-eyed witch, he checked the map quickly, cursing under his breath at the small dot labelled 'Neville Longbottom' rapidly approaching.
"Hiya Harry!" Neville greeted cheerfully. "I forgot you weren't going to Hogsmeade. Fancy a game of Exploding Snap?"
"Sorry, Neville," Harry said, keeping his voice casual. "I've, uh, got some work to do." He gave the other boy a pointed look, and Neville's mouth made an 'o' of understanding.
"Did you want any help with it?" Neville asked quietly. Harry made to reply, but they were interrupted by sharp footsteps approaching. Neville gasped, shuffling behind Harry.
"Potter. Longbottom," Snape greeted, staring Harry down with suspicion. "What are you two doing here? An odd place to meet."
Harry refused to let his eyes drift to the one-eyed witch statue, even when Snape's did. "We're not meeting here. We just— met here."
"Then I suggest the two of you return to Gryffindor tower, where you belong," Snape drawled, running his hand over the statue. Harry held his breath.
"Right. We'll, uh, do that, sir." The two of them left, and Harry told Neville he was going to the library, only to double back as soon as he saw the dot labelled 'Severus Snape' securely in his office.
"Dissendium," he whispered, tapping the witch's hump and climbing in as soon as it opened. He was running late.
.-.
Hermione wasn't with Ron when Harry found him. It was clearly too much to ask for the two of them to make up, even after Hagrid spoke to them. Harry was starting to regret going — all he was doing was following Ron around, letting the redhead show him all the things he'd seen when he'd visited by himself before Christmas, when Ron didn't know about the map. Exploding Snap with Neville would've been more fun. At least Harry got Ron to buy him some stuff at Honeydukes, slipping him money from beneath the cloak. Ron led the way up towards the Shrieking Shack, telling Harry all about the rumours of it being haunted, when he heard a voice from the other side of the hill. As the voice drew closer, Harry's stomach sank. "Father had to go to the hearing, of course, to tell them about my arm." It was Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, laughing over Hagrid and Buckbeak. It sent a sharp pain through Harry's ribs, but he shook it off. Draco had made it pretty clear that those two were as much his babysitters as his bodyguards, keeping an eye on Draco and reporting back to their fathers, who would turn to Draco's father if he didn't like what he heard. They weren't as dumb as they looked.
"What are you doing, Weasley?" Draco's voice cut through Harry's thoughts, and he saw Ron's hands clench into fists at his sides. Draco looked up at the shack. "Bet you'd love to live here, wouldn't you? Practically a palace compared to that hovel you live in now." Crabbe and Goyle both laughed, and Harry had to grab the back of Ron's robes to stop him from charging at Draco.
"Leave him to me," he hissed under his breath. Ron would never forgive him if he didn't take the opportunity. Besides, Draco was being a bit of a prick. Even if it was an act.
Sneaking off to the side, he flicked his wand from his holster, levitating a particularly gross patch of mud up. SPLAT!
It slammed into the back of Draco's robes, covering all three Slytherins in foul-smelling muck. Draco yelped. "What was that?"
SPLAT!
Harry sent another ball of mud flying from the other side, hitting Goyle clean in the face. "Who's there?" Crabbe called, whipping around with his wand in his hand. He started lumbering forward, half-blinded by mud, and Harry stuck a foot out to trip him as he passed. The enormous Slytherin went crashing to the ground — and on the way down, his foot caught on the corner of Harry's cloak. Suddenly, his head was exposed, and all three Slytherins and Ron were staring at him with varying degrees of fury and horror. Harry stumbled back, quickly pulling the hood back up, and without saying anything to Ron he sprinted back towards Honeydukes.
If it had just been Draco, Harry wouldn't have worried, but Crabbe and Goyle saw him too. There was no way they wouldn't tell a teacher. Shit, he was in so much trouble.
When he reached the passage in Honeydukes' cellar, he did a quick cleaning charm to get the mud off his boots and scrambled back up to clamber out of the one-eyed witch, hoping he didn't look as out of breath as he felt. If anyone asked, he could just say he'd been out flying. He left the cloak and his bag in the passageway and shut the witch's hump behind him, hoping to slide right back into the trickle of students going about their day. He could come back and get them later. Quick footsteps echoed down the corridor. The blood drained from Harry's face.
"Potter!" It was Snape, his features set in a harsh glare, though there was a gleam of triumph in his eyes. Harry was well aware of his sweaty face and messy hair. "Come with me."
"Where are we going, sir?" Harry asked, playing innocent as he fell into stride beside the long-legged Slytherin, having to practically jog to keep up. Naturally, they ended up in Snape's office.
"Sit." Harry did so, trying not to stare too closely at the gross things in jars lining the shelves. "Mr Malfoy and his friends came to me with a rather interesting story."
"Sir?"
"Apparently, Potter, they came across Weasley in Hogsmeade. And he wasn't alone."
"Was Hermione with him, sir? I'm glad they're talking again." Snape's glare could've melted a cauldron.
"Mr Malfoy states that someone invisible was throwing mud at him and his two friends, while they were stood talking to Mr Weasley. And then, Mr Crabbe saw a very curious apparition. Do you know what that might be?"
"Can't say I do, sir."
"Your head, Potter. Floating in the middle of Hogsmeade."
"Perhaps he should go to Madam Pomfrey, sir, if he's seeing things," Harry replied neutrally. He thought Snape might explode with rage.
"Your head does not have permission to go to Hogsmeade. No part of your body has permission to go to Hogsmeade."
"I know, sir. I've been in Gryffindor tower all day, like you told me."
"Can anyone confirm that, Potter?" For a moment, Harry almost threw Neville's name out there. But as good as the boy claimed to be at Occlumency, he couldn't lie for shit, especially to Snape. Instead, he stayed quiet. Snape smirked. "I thought so. How very like your father you are. Believing yourself to be above the rules. Everyone from the Minister for Magic downwards is trying to keep you safe from Sirius Black, and you're just gallivanting off about Hogsmeade, because of course, Famous Harry Potter goes where he wants, with no thought to the consequences. Do you have anything to say for yourself, boy?"
Harry flinched. "Don't call me that, sir," he begged, his shoulders curling in to protect his ribs on instinct.
"I'll call you what I like, you arrogant little brat. Really, the resemblance is uncanny — James Potter also strutted about the castle with his friends, his head so swollen—"
"Shut up!" Harry yelled before he could stop himself. "Shut up about my father!" Lupin had told him Snape and his father didn't get along, and that James had been a bit of a prick in school, but to hear Snape talk about him like that…
"What did you say, boy?" Snape's voice was a venomous his. Harry took a step back.
"I asked you not to call me that, sir," he said weakly. His knees were starting to shake, his eyes darting about, expecting fists to fly at any moment.
"I hate to think of the stories Lupin's been filling your head with. Acting like James Potter was the best thing to ever happen to this school, telling you tales of glorious heroism. Did he tell you about the time your father and his saintly friends played a prank on me that almost cost me my life? Your father got cold feet at the last minute, but if he hadn't, they all would've been expelled." Snape smirked. "No, I don't suppose he did share that tale."
Snape straightened up abruptly. "Turn out your pockets, Potter!"
Harry startled, but didn't move.
"I said, turn out your pockets!"
Mentally cursing, Harry did as bid, setting a handful of Fudge Flies and the Marauder's Map on the table in front of him. "Ron gave those to me," he said hurriedly. "After the last Hogsmeade weekend. I was just— saving them."
"How touching. And this?" Snape held up the Marauder's Map. Harry swallowed, refusing to make eye contact with the man.
"Just a spare bit of parchment. I was doing my Charms essay earlier."
Snape turned the map over in his hands, studying it closely. "Rather old piece of parchment, isn't it? I should perhaps just throw it away." He made as if to throw it in the fire, and Harry lurched forwards. "Aha! What is it really, Potter? Another present from Mr Weasley? Instructions on how to get into Hogsmeade? Or— something else." He pulled his wand, placing the tip to the paper. "Reveal your secrets."
Harry watched in growing horror as the map's creators took turns insulting Snape, the man's face growing more enraged by the word. "I should've known," Snape murmured. He strode across the office, tossing a handful of floo powder into his fire. "Lupin!" he called into the green flames. "I want a word!"
Within moments, Professor Lupin was in Snape's office, looking pleasantly baffled as he stared between Harry and Snape. "Severus," he greeted. "Harry. What can I do for you?"
"This," Snape said, shoving the map in Lupin's direction. "I found it in Potter's pockets."
For a moment, Harry could've sworn Lupin looked surprised. He read the words still on the map's surface. His lips twitched. "I'm not sure what you want me to do about it, Severus."
"Oh, you know exactly what I want, you—" Snape cut himself off, glancing back at Harry. "It's clearly some sort of dark magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you suppose Potter got such a thing?" He had his eyebrows raised pointedly. Lupin's lips twitched again.
Harry got the distinct feeling there were two different conversations happening at once.
"It seems like some sort of joke parchment, Severus. Designed to insult whoever tries to read it. Probably a Zonko's product."
"Really," Snape replied flatly. "There's nothing… familiar about it, to you?"
"Should there be?" Lupin asked, seeming utterly unfazed by Snape's anger.
Was Snape trying to imply that Lupin gave him the map?
"I will have answers, Lupin," Snape growled. Calm as you please, Lupin plucked the map from Snape's hands, offering the man a genial smile.
"Oh, I'd be delighted to give them to you, Severus, once I've studied it further. But I'm sure it's just a harmless prank parchment. Now, if we're quite finished here, I'm sure Harry has other places to be, don't you Harry?"
He wanted to ask for the map back, but he couldn't do that with Snape in the room.
"Right. Yeah. I'll just be going then…" He didn't dare look at Snape as he left the office, his heart pounding as he made for the third floor to go get his bag. Somehow, he'd escaped. He just had to ask Lupin for the map back, and then he'd be good.
"Harry!" His head snapped up, and he saw Ron sprinting down the corridor towards him, red-faced. "I tried… to get here… fast as I could… couldn't find you… you alright?" He was panting, having clearly just run the entire way from Hogsmeade.
"Fine. Had a run in with Snape, but… it's fine. I'll tell you later," he added, not wanting to linger too long in the corridor. He walked with his friend back towards Gryffindor Tower, his thoughts still back in Snape's office.
The Slytherin clearly expected Lupin to recognise the map. But why?
.-.-.-.
As soon as the door shut behind Harry, Severus rounded on Remus. "We both know what that is," he said bluntly. "I am astounded that you gave it to Potter, under the circumstances."
"I didn't give it to him!" Remus insisted, taking the map back out of his pocket and staring at it. "I had no idea Harry had it. I didn't even know it still existed! Peter got it confiscated by Filch a month before we graduated."
The words were still floating across the page, the familiar sets of handwriting making his heart ache softly. "I'm, uh, sorry about the nose comment," he added cheekily. "It was fifth year. After— y'know." The fight he'd thought would break them — until a year later, when Sirius almost ruined everything.
Severus' face shuttered for a moment. "Then it seems rather tame, considering," he remarked dryly. "You swear you didn't give it to Potter?"
"On my life, Severus," Remus vowed. "I have no clue how he managed to get a hold of it. Foolish boy. If he'd left this lying around…" He swallowed thickly. If the map got back in Sirius' hands, it was all over.
"Potter has never been particularly good at using his brain," Severus retorted acidly. Remus gave him a reproachful look.
"He's thirteen, Severus. How much did you use your brain back then?" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I suppose he was in Hogsmeade, then?"
"Somehow. Malfoy said it was just his floating head. I seem to recall several similar instances from our school years." Severus' gaze was pointed, and Remus chuckled.
"James' cloak. I didn't know he had that, either." He thought it over for a second. "That one must have been Dumbledore. James let him borrow it for an Order thing before he…"
Severus scoffed. "Of course. The headmaster does love to encourage Potter to get himself into trouble." With a sigh, Severus reached up for the hidden bottle of whisky on his top shelf. Remus' stomach warmed when the man summoned two glasses. "I take it Potter has no idea about the origin of the map?"
"If he does, he hasn't asked me about it." Remus accepted the whisky with a grateful look. "I'm going to have to tell him, if he asks. He'll need a good reason why I'm not giving it back." He perched in his usual spot on the edge of the desk, setting his glass down and stroking a fond hand over the map. "Why didn't you open it in front of him? I can't see you passing up a chance to terrorise the poor boy."
Severus' pale cheeks flushed faintly. "Despite many attempts, I never learned the password."
Remus barked out a laugh. "Really? I always assumed you must've heard us, one of those times. You always talked about it like you knew exactly how it worked." He pulled his wand from his pocket, setting the tip against the parchment. His gaze met Severus'. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Watching the ink flow out over the map was like a physical punch to the gut, and he had to close his eyes for several moments at the fresh wave of grief. Cool fingers touched the back of his hand for a brief moment. Enough to ground him in the present. "Our pride and joy," he breathed, opening his eyes again and looking over the map. Several floors above them, the dot labelled 'Harry Potter' walked alongside the dot labelled 'Ron Weasley', walking away from the statue of the one-eyed witch. Remus stifled a smile. Legacy of the Marauders, indeed. "Merlin, James would be thrilled. His little boy, using the map and cloak to sneak to Hogsmeade. That's all his dreams come true."
"Yes, I'm sure he'd be delighted to hear his son put himself in danger with a mass-murdering lunatic skulking about the place," Severus retorted sharply. Remus' smile faltered. "The map could be useful. If Black decides to return."
He wasn't sure what he'd do if he ever saw the little dot labelled 'Sirius Black' reappear on the paper. But he owed it to Harry to keep an eye out, just in case. "I'll keep it with me. Check it when I can."
"Not going to take it to Dumbledore?" Severus' voice was taunting, and Remus shot him a look.
"We both know that would be a terrible idea."
Silence grew between them, and Remus sipped his whisky, his eyes returning to the map. Merlin, that felt like a lifetime ago, enchanting that thing. He hadn't thought he'd ever see it again.
"He asked me not to call him 'boy'." Severus' quiet words made Remus jump, caught up in his memories.
"Pardon?"
"Potter," Severus explained at Remus' wrinkled brow. "I called him 'boy'. He had… quite the adverse reaction. I've never seen him like that before."
"When you say 'adverse'…"
"He acted like I was going to hit him." The words were resigned, and the bottom fell out of Remus' stomach. In the back of his mind, Moony growled.
"Petunia," he spat, grip tightening around his glass. "If she or that brute husband of hers have laid a hand on my cub."
"Calm yourself, Remus," Severus urged, his fingers brushing Remus' hand once more. He looked displeased as well, his lips curled in a sneer. "There will come a time when we will talk to Petunia. See how she's been respecting Lily's memory."
That didn't satisfy his inner wolf, but Remus knew he couldn't just run off to wherever Petunia lived and give her a piece of his mind. "I've failed him in so many ways, Severus," he breathed in anguish. "Ways he doesn't even realise."
"Dumbledore is the only one who has failed him," Severus corrected, "and we will do our best to rectify that."
Remus stared at the map, watching the dozens of dots flood the Entrance Hall as they returned from Hogsmeade.
He wasn't sure his best would be enough.
.-.-.
That evening after dinner found Harry knocking on the door of Professor Lupin's office, biting his lip anxiously. The professor had a knowing look in his eyes when he answered the door. "Professor Lupin, about that, uh, parchment that Professor Snape took from me. I was hoping I could have it back?"
"No, Harry, you cannot have the map back. Yes, I know it's a map," Lupin added when Harry's jaw dropped. "I'm incredibly disappointed in you, Harry; not only did you sneak into Hogsmeade unsupervised, where anything could've happened to you, but you've had this map for Merlin knows how long with Sirius Black on the loose and you never turned it in."
The way Lupin looked at him made him feel about three inches tall. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think it was that important."
"Not that important? Harry, you've already seen what Black can do with things left lying about!" Neville was only just allowed to be told the password to the common room, even now.
"But he wouldn't know how to use it! It'd just insult him, like it did to Snape!"
"Are you so sure about that?" Lupin pulled the map out of his pocket, laying it flat on his desk. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Harry gaped at him as the map jumped to life. "But… how…"
"When I told you months ago that you used to call me Uncle Remus, I suppose I was lying to you a little," Lupin told him, making Harry blink at the change of subject. "Remus is a little hard for a one year-old to say, after all. You much preferred to call me Uncle Moony. Well," he added, smiling wryly, "it came out more like 'Uncle Mooey', you struggled with your N's, you see."
Dragging his eyes down to the greeting at the top of the map, Harry stared back up at his professor in dawning shock.
"Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black and James Potter. Also known as Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. The Marauders," Lupin announced, offering a little bow. "At your service. Well, what's left of us, at least."
"What?" Harry could hardly believe it. "The map was my dad's?"
"Not solely his. It took all four of us to figure the spells out. Three, really; Peter was never that great with a wand. We finished it early in our fifth year, to help aid in our mischief-making ways. It got confiscated in our seventh year. I hadn't expected Filch to keep it." Lupin looked at him curiously. "I have to ask, Harry — how did you come to own the map?"
"A friend gave it to me," he said evasively, not wanting to get anyone in trouble. Lupin stared him down for a long moment, then smiled.
"The Weasley twins, I presume? That would explain an awful lot about them. Well, I suppose I can't ask for a much better successor. Some of their work is really quite fantastic. I thought Severus would never get his hair back the right colour after that little prank they pulled before Christmas."
"They worship you," Harry blurted. "The Marauders, I mean. Think you're the best thing ever." He wondered what the twins would do if he told them they were being taught by a real live Marauder.
That made Lupin chuckle. "I'm glad our good work is being continued. But that doesn't mean you can tell them, Harry," he added. "I'm telling you because it's James, and because I need you to understand why it's so dangerous to have this map. Sirius Black helped create it. If it ended up in his hands, he could find you anywhere in the castle. I can't let you have it back, I'm sorry."
Harry winced; if he'd known, he never would have kept the map. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Don't take it to Dumbledore."
"Beg your pardon, Harry?"
"Don't take the map to Professor Dumbledore. Please." If Dumbledore found the map, if he had another way of monitoring Harry… he was screwed. Lupin's brow furrowed.
"I wasn't planning on doing so. But why don't you want it going to the Headmaster?"
Harry glanced down at the map, then back up at Lupin, deciding to throw caution to the wind. Lupin had been good about being honest with him so far. "Professor Dumbledore put a curse on my magical core to block me from my family magics."
Lupin's eyes went wide in alarm. Harry blurted out the whole story of his trip to Gringotts, including the Compulsion charm, explaining why he thought Dumbledore was the one who did it. "And I shouldn't have told you that, because he can read minds, and if he finds out then he'll know I know, and I'm done for!" he finished, somewhat panicked. Lupin's hands came down on his shoulders, squeezing gently.
"You're fine, Harry. Your secrets are safe with me. I have… let's call them natural mental defences. Dumbledore has never been able to read my mind." Harry let out a sigh of relief, and Lupin let him go, turning to pace the length of the desk. "Of all the things… I knew he was bad, but I never thought… Merlin, to block your family magics!" He turned to Harry abruptly. "You're sure the block is gone?"
"The goblins said it was, yeah."
Lupin sighed in relief. "Good. Good. When James turned seventeen, the boost in magic from his family line just about cracked all the windows in the dorm. That combined with the Black family — and Slytherin! Good grief, to have that sort of power surge trapped inside you with a magic blocker could level the school when you come of age!" His head snapped up, colour draining from his face. Harry's heart skipped a beat, his blood turning to ice.
Was that what Dumbledore wanted?
"Who else have you told?"
"Neville knows about almost all of it. The twins know I'm taking up my family seat, but they don't know about the block. And a few other kids — apparently word got around amongst the heirs that the House of Potter is back on the playing field."
"You have to be incredibly careful, Harry. If the wrong person should find out what you know… I don't have to tell you how badly that could end up for you." Lupin's words made Harry's stomach churn. No, he was well aware of the line he was treading.
"I don't know what to do," he admitted in a meek voice. "I've been reading up as much as I can about the old bloodlines, and what it means to be an heir, and family magic, but… I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't know why Dumbledore wants to keep it from me, and I don't know who I can trust and if I tell the wrong person I could die!"
All of a sudden, Lupin's arms were wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him in close. Harry couldn't help the way he buried his face in the man's robes, eyes squeezed shut against the tears threatening to spill forth. "Easy, cub, easy. It's alright," Lupin soothed, one broad hand rubbing across his shoulders. It was a hug unlike any Harry had experienced before. Lupin looked like a strong wind would blow him over, but there was wiry muscle in his arms, and it made Harry feel safe. Secure. Like… like a parent would. Not even like Mrs Weasley hugging him, where she tried to crush the life out of him. Just… warm.
"Albus Dumbledore is not going to hurt you anymore, I promise you that," Lupin vowed fiercely, his lips pressed against Harry's hair. "You've done so well, cub. You've been so brave. But you don't have to do this alone anymore."
"I'm always alone," Harry muttered bitterly. Lupin pulled back enough to look Harry in the eye, and he could've sworn the man's eyes flashed gold for a second. It was probably just the light.
"Not anymore," he growled firmly. "Never again. I've let you down for far too long." He seemed as reluctant to break the hug as Harry was, but they parted nonetheless, Lupin unsuccessfully smoothing Harry's hair down. "That's a lost cause," he said ruefully, making Harry snort. "Just like James'." Stepping back, Harry took a breath. "I'm sorry I didn't tell anyone about the map."
"I'll forgive you, but know in future you can come to me about anything, okay?" Lupin told him, brown eyes serious. "Absolutely anything. You can trust me, Harry." He glanced down at the map. "You should go. Your friend Miss Granger is on her way up here, no doubt looking for you."
"Right, yeah." Harry had told Hermione what happened. She seemed to think it served him right to get the map confiscated. Ron was less pleased by it. "I'll, uh, see you later, then. Thanks."
"Have a good evening, Harry."
Harry left the office with his hands in his pockets, his emotions so jumbled in his head he could barely make sense of them all. At least one person — one adult — knew the truth, now. One person was on his side.
.-.
He bumped into Hermione in the corridor, expecting her to scold him again about the map. Instead, she had tears in her eyes, her hands trembling. "Hermione? What's wrong?" Had Ron said something awful to her?
She wordlessly handed over a crumpled piece of parchment, and Harry's heart sank. Buckbeak lost his trial.
"They can't do this," he murmured, taking her arm to lead her back to Gryffindor Tower. "Buckbeak isn't dangerous."
"Malfoy's dad thinks he is, and he's got the whole committee in his pocket," she retorted, wiping at her eyes.
Ron was in the common room when they entered, and he scowled at first, before he realised Hermione was crying. "Don't tell me she told on you, mate," he hissed, glaring at the curly-haired girl. Hermione's lip quivered, and she bit back a sob.
"I did no such thing," she bit out. "I just thought you might like to know, Hagrid lost the case. They're going to execute Buckbeak."
Ron's freckles stood out stark against his pale face as it drained of colour. "What?" Harry passed him the letter. "But that's not fair! Buckbeak did nothing wrong, it was all Malfoy!"
"We know that, but the committee doesn't care! There'll be an appeal, there always is, but… I can't see how it will help. Nothing will have changed."
"Yeah it will," Ron said fiercely. "You won't have to do all the work alone this time. I'll help."
"Oh, Ron!" Hermione flung herself into Ron's arms, sobbing on his shoulder, and Ron sent Harry an alarmed look as he patted her awkwardly on the top of the head. Through her sobs, she managed to stutter out an apology for Scabbers, and Ron shook his head, entirely out of his comfort zone.
"He was old, y'know— and a bit useless. It's alright." He kept patting Hermione's head until she finally drew away. She met Ron's eyes, offering him a tentative smile, which he returned. Another small sob escaped Hermione's lips.
Harry could only hope they were finally done fighting. They had more important things on their mind, now.
.-.-.-.
As a cold and dreary February rolled into a slightly less cold and dreary March, Harry was beginning to feel like he was almost as busy as Hermione. His curly-haired friend was drowning under her workload, always doing some sort of work and looking increasingly hysterical while she was at it. But Harry had his classes, plus a truly absurd amount of quidditch practices — they were so close to the cup they could taste it, and Wood wanted them at their best. Add in his patronus lessons, his private study and his secret late-night meetings with Draco, he barely had time to sleep. And after knowing Sirius Black could get all the way up to his dorm… well, even when he did have time to sleep, it was hard.
True to their word, he and Draco had resumed antagonising each other in public. It was actually sort of fun, now that Harry knew it was just a game. It certainly made Ron happier, having 'the old Harry' back. That made the guilt rise up again, but Harry shook it off.
They managed to meet about once a week, never in the same place twice, arranging meetings by dropping little notes in each other's pockets or school bags whenever they had one of their 'fights'. It was harder now Harry didn't have the map, but he was managing. Tonight, they were in one of the old Charms classrooms on the fourth floor, chairs pulled up to the desk as Draco taught Harry a wizarding card game called Warlock's Bluff. The rules were somewhat complicated, but Harry was starting to get the hang of it. He'd actually won the last round, much to Draco's surprise. "It's better with four players," Draco told him, using a spell to shuffle the deck for the next round.
"By better you mean harder."
Draco smirked at him, eyes flashing in challenge. "Struggling to keep up, Harry?"
He dealt again, and Harry picked up his cards, keeping his face blank. Not a bad hand. He could win this one. "So what does being a good pureblood have to do with playing cards?"
"You can get a good measure a person by playing Bluff with them," Draco replied, making his move. "Often business meetings will include a game or two, to keep conversation flowing. It shows logic, strategy, how many risks a person is willing to take. A little like chess, but quicker."
Of course, even games had an ulterior motive with purebloods. Harry said as much, and Draco scoffed. "Not every game has an ulterior motive. Sometimes we play for fun. Just don't ever play against Daphne, especially not for money. She'll rob you blind with a smile on her face, the girl is a menace."
"When would I ever play cards with Daphne Greengrass?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"You never know." Draco shrugged. "The future holds many opportunities. There may come a time where we don't have to put on quite so many masks."
That was one thing Harry was learning, spending more time with Draco. Just about everyone in Slytherin — and many in other houses — was playing a part, to some degree. Draco wouldn't say why it was so important, but he'd made it pretty clear that nobody could be taken at face value. It sounded exhausting to Harry.
Outside in the hallway, they heard a door slam shut. Both boys froze.
"It's getting late," Draco said eventually, flicking his wand and sending all the cards neatly back into their box. "We should go."
They tried not to stay out too long past curfew, both because they needed to sleep, and because they were both painfully aware that Sirius Black could be roaming the castle at any time. Harry knew he was being foolish, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He liked spending time with Draco. The blond boy was funny when he wasn't being scathing; and sometimes even when he was. Spending time with him made Harry wonder if he'd made the wrong choice when he'd begged the sorting hat not to put him in Slytherin. "I'll see you later." Harry watched Draco leave — Draco always left first. He waited several minutes, then made to swing his invisibility cloak over his shoulders, only to freeze when the door swung open. He stared guiltily into the honey eyes of Professor Lupin.
"Harry," the professor greeted neutrally, taking in the scene in front of him. "Did I just see Draco Malfoy leave this room a few moments ago?"
"…Maybe?"
"You don't look like you've been fighting," Lupin started, and Harry shook his head.
"We weren't fighting! We were, ah, playing Warlock's Bluff."
"A card game," Lupin said flatly. "With Draco Malfoy."
"We're maybe, kinda, friends now?" Harry replied, voice rising an octave as he shrugged helplessly, waiting for the outburst about not trusting Slytherins and being more carefully running about after dark.
"Merlin," Lupin muttered under his breath, glancing skyward in exasperation. "History repeats itself indeed." He cleared his throat, looking back at Harry. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew."
"What! Aren't you going to take from Slytherin? Draco was out too!"
"Draco had the good sense not to get caught," Lupin retorted. "Also, he doesn't have a murderer looking for him. You're playing a dangerous game, here, Harry." His eyes flicked down to the fabric bunched in Harry's hands, and he smirked. "Ah, of course. How long have you had James' cloak?"
Harry looked down at the invisibility cloak, then back up at his professor. "You know what this is?" Lupin laughed.
"Know what it is? Harry, I spent half my school career hiding under that thing," he replied ruefully. "That cloak got the four of us out of many a sticky situation. It's reassuring to know you have it, but that doesn't mean it's okay for you to be out after dark. Let me walk you back to your common room. Put the cloak on."
With a sigh, Harry didn't bother arguing. He swung the cloak over his shoulders, noticing how amused Lupin looked as he disappeared. "You're not entirely Lily's boy, then," the professor remarked, leading the way out of the classroom. "Plenty of James in you yet. Not sure if that's a good thing."
It was the first time someone had told Harry he was more like his mother than his father, and it made a warm, fluttery feeling appear in his chest. He smiled, obediently following Lupin all the way back up to the Fat Lady, bidding the man goodnight before he murmured the password. One person in his life knew about his friendship with Draco, and hadn't condemned him for it.
Harry slept better than he had in weeks.