When the Snow Melts

In Denial

"Harry, that's horrible. You should have told a teacher immediately," Hermione scolded.

After deliberating for several days, Harry had decided to tell his two best friends about the incident with Malfoy. He knew that the longer he waited, the harder it was going to get. He needed to get it off his chest.

"Yeah," Ron added. "I don't necessarily like the git, but that is kind of horrible. Damnit Harry, you're making it hard for me to properly hate him."

Harry gave them both a pained expression. "I know, I know. I should have told Professor McGonagall that night, but... I didn't... I mean..." he trailed off with a sigh, struggling to articulate his feelings on the matter when he hadn't even made up his mind yet how he should feel. "Draco is hardly a little kid anymore. If he wanted help... I just don't think it's my place to get involved."

"What do you mean 'It's not your place to get involved,' Harry?" Hermione's tone was sharp and her disapproving eyes were burning a hole to the very center of his being. "You can't possibly believe that? Headmaster Dumbledore needs to know."

Ron rolled his eyes with an easygoing smirk on his face, "Didn't see that coming."

She glared at him before turning back to Harry. "I'm serious," she continued. "You should tell the Headmaster, he'll know what to do."

Harry considered her words, a sick feeling settling in his stomach as he remembered his last talk with Dumbledore and how much time it took to pull himself back together. "I don't want to talk to him," he replied darkly.

They both studied him carefully. Hermione's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?" she inquired.

Harry felt his chest begin to tighten with dread. He knew he couldn't go back there. "I just don't, all right?" he snarled, gripping his fork with enough force to bend it.

"Fine," Hermione conceded, "Then at least tell Professor McGonagall."

Harry recalled her angry face from a few nights ago. If he told her now, after three days – he shook his head at the idea. It didn't fill him with the quite the same feeling of dread, but still... "I can't," he muttered, burning up with shame at just how useless he felt.

"Harry James Potter," Hermione admonished. "How can you be so heartless? I understand that you hate Malfoy, we all do, but that is not a good enough reason to be such a coward. Now you are going to march your butt into Professor McGonagall's office and tell her what you saw. If she gets angry with you, then just man up and take your lumps. Malfoy is going to get himself killed if we don't intercede. Do you want that on your conscience?"

Harry hung his head in defeat. Hermione did have a point – Malfoy may be the enemy, but Harry didn't want to see him dead. He'd been involved in enough deaths.

"All right," he agreed. "I'll tell her when I'm done with breakfast. Now will you please just drop this."

He ate a few more bites of his breakfast, plate still half-full, before heading off to Professor McGonagall's office.

"Can I help you, Mr. Potter?" she inquired as he entered, scrutinizing him with a calculating expression.

His resolve wavered briefly, but Hermione's angry voice in his head goaded him into action. He didn't want to see another person dead if he could prevent it. He shuffled across the room and sank into the chair in front of her desk, eyes downcast.

"Professor, about the other night..." he trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

"You better not be trying to get out of your detention tomorrow," she scolded, misinterpreting his intentions.

"No, I'm not." Harry replied, vehemently shaking his head at the accusation. "It's just that... well... I saw something."

Her eyebrow arched slightly as she waited for him to continue. Once he started to relay the story, the words just flowed. He felt an odd sense of emotional detachment to the situation, like a wall had been formed between himself and those events.

A small gasp escaped Professor McGonagall's mouth, eyes wide and alarmed. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"I wanted to, but..." he shrugged, shifting awkwardly under her accusing glare. "I was still kind of shocked and you were so mad at me..."

"And Headmaster Dumbledore?" she prodded.

Harry's eyes darted away. He didn't want to admit that he had run away like a coward from the man the first chance he got. "It slipped my mind," he lied.

Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she considered his words.

"Slipped your mind," she muttered with a disapproving shake of her head. "I'll have to inform his Head of House immediately."

Harry nodded at his lap, his nerves settling slightly. He had done his part. Now he could go back to dodging the well-intentioned suspicions of his friends.

"I am most disappointed in you, Mr. Potter," she informed him. "If Lucius Malfoy had caught you that night – well, I don't think I need to tell you what could have happened. You have got to stop putting yourself in danger. You're just a boy. Let the adults figure this stuff out."

Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach at her words. Headmaster Dumbledore hadn't told her. If only it were that easy – just run around enjoying life like a normal teen, not a care in the world – but he couldn't do that. No adult was going to be able to protect him. That wasn't life.

"I understand," he mumbled, getting up to leave her office.

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Malfoy entered the office wondering why Professor Snape had summoned him during breakfast.

"Malfoy," Snape acknowledged him coolly. "Potter has just informed us that he saw your father placing you under the Cruciatus Curse a few nights ago. The two of you were discussing his expectations of you. Care to enlighten me?"

Draco started to pale, but he caught himself. He knew he had to step up his game – think like a Malfoy.

"Oh really," he drawled with a forced chuckle. "Our little friend certainly does love his stories. I guess it's because he never had a mother to tell him that lying was wrong."

Snape studied him carefully.

"Come on," Draco snorted in mock disbelief. "You don't honestly think my father would risk everything by doing something so stupid, do you?"

"No," the man replied dubiously.

Draco withstood Professor Snape's intense scrutiny, his mask held firmly in place. He would not fail his father this time. The man eventually sighed in defeat, his shoulders slumping forward.

"You're free to go," he conceded. Draco wasn't sure if Professor Snape believed him or not.

"And Draco," he offered. "If you ever want to talk..."

Draco nodded and left as quickly as possible. He was furious with himself for not noticing that he was being followed. How had Harry, the least stealthy person at Hogwarts, managed to spy on them? Not only that, but he had informed the professors. Their increased suspicion would make things difficult.

Draco growled in frustration when he realized he would have to dirty his hands on this one. He needed to send Potter a very clear message.