Resorted

chapter forty-six

“Why are we standing in an empty classroom?” Asked Harry, leaning against the wall and into Draco’s side when the blonde threw an arm around him. All the students were in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. They had this lesson with the Hufflepuffs, who happily engaged with the Slytherins (something they didn’t do before last year). Light shone on the dust, making it visibly clear to anyone who paid enough attention. Slowly, it went up and down, up and down, like the rise in a roller coaster before the descent happens. The particles trickled out of view, fading to nothing but an atom, becoming invisible to the naked eye. “Why don’t you ask the Professor?” Blaise said, looking around the room, thinking it looks gloomier than the Slytherin common room. “Oh that’s right! He isn’t even here yet! How about we give him detention for being late?”

“Quiet” A deep voice echoed in the near empty room from the doorway, sucking all joy and conversation from the students. He sauntered to the front, standing in the middle of the classroom as the students gave weary glances to each other.
“Should I do it?” Asked Blaise, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“No! Now shut it!” Pansy whisper-shouted, really wondering why she’s friends with this idiot, “You are not a Gryffindor, stop acting like it!”
“Better than being a Hufflepuff…” Draco murmured loud enough so only Harry could hear even if he didn’t’ want him to. Harry squeezed his hand a bit tightly, receiving a sound from Draco then a glare and a mouthed ‘sorry’ even if he didn’t look it.

“You have had five different teachers on this subject. The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a head is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed. Mutating. Indestructible.” He flicked his wand, closing the curtains and lighting the candles in the black wooden holders.

“You are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. We shall begin to remedy that. Those who progress in magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this; it is a question of concentration and mind-power which some-” His gaze went straight to Harry, “-lack.” Harry rolled his eyes, remembering Draco saying Snape would ‘go easier’ on him this year, and glared right back at the Professor.

Their task in the class is wordless magic which isn’t a problem for Harry because he has developed well since finding out he can do wandless. It wouldn’t be too much hassle for Draco if he knew how to do spells other than once that helps with a pretty… private subject. However, Draco and Harry seem to be doing rather well, concentrating their minds into saying the spell in their heads then connecting the thought to their wands. In pairs, Pansy and Blaise seem to having more of a problem. Mostly Blaise who can’t clear his head properly for it to work.

“Pathetic, Zabini. Here, let me show you. Potter! Come here.” Snape said, waiting for the boy to turn in his direction. On instincts (and because he does want to- not that he’d say that out loud though) Harry raised his wand immediately, spell on the tip of his tongue. “Protego!” He casted, Snape going backwards and hitting one of the desks on the outer edge of the classroom. He scowled as he stood properly, looking down on Harry like he was vermin, “Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal skills, Potter?”

Lowering his wand to his side, Harry tried to look apologetic, “Yes.”
“Yes, sir.” Corrected Snape a look of disgust morphing on his wrinkled face.
“Oh there’s no need to call me ‘sir’ Professor, but I am quite flattered you think of me so highly,” He replied sweetly, shrugging and smiling like it was no big deal. That earned a few snorts and giggles in the class, a smile or two from other Slytherins.

“Detention, Saturday night, my office. I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter...not even "the chosen one."” The man turned on his heel, going to the front of the class to sit at his desk.

“That was brilliant, Harry.” Praised Blaise, hitting him lightly on the back. Harry flushed at the comment, laughing as he recalled Snape’s face.
“Still got a detention though.” Draco scolded, coming up behind Harry to wrap his arms around the smaller boy’s waist.

“He tried to jinx me, in case you didn't notice! I had enough of that during those Occlumency lessons. What's Dumbledore playing at, anyway, letting him teach Defence? Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? Like he's in love with them! "Ever-changing and eternal." "Unfixed and indestructible."” Harry ranted as the four walked to their next lesson together. Although Draco really wanted to defend Snape’s case, he didn’t have anything at the moment, because what Harry is saying is true.

“I thought he sounded a bit like you, actually.” Pansy said, barging through a second year Ravenclaw to keep in line.
“What?”
“The way you taught us last year. How fighting the Dark Arts comes down to being brave and quick-thinking. That's a lot of what he was saying, I thought.” Replied Pansy, not bothering to go into an entire lecture as to why it was similar.

Harry faltered, stopping completely at the note materialising in front of his very eyes. He reached for the parchment, feeling three bodies close to his as they try to read it before him. Harry unrolled the parchment, reading it over. “It's from Dumbledore. He wants me to come see him in his office Saturday night.” He let go of the bottom of the parchment. It rolled back with a satisfying snap like with a tape measure. “Ha. So much for Snape's detention.”

For the entirety of Saturday, Harry was mulling over the letter and wondering what Dumbledore could want. If it was to do with the Occlumency lessons, surely it would have said something or even a cover for it? Then again, this is Dumbledore. Now he thought more about the man, Harry was inclined to believe Draco’s words about him. Harry never did talk to the old man about his living situation, about the abuse, about being their slave. If Dumbledore knew (which he evidently does), then why send him back to a place of torture every year? Dumbledore said it was for the greater good, but there’s a small chance he will be able to defeat the man. He died then came back from the dead! His minions are everywhere, and the man is at least seventy, so he has more magical knowledge than Harry who didn’t grow up in a magical home!

“Time to go.” Harry said, grabbing his wand from the bedside table and glasses. He looked at Draco peaceful face, being reminded of how much love he has for him. Gently, harry caressed his cheek, bowing down to plant a kiss on his cheek and stroke it over with his thumb. Seeing the smile form on his boyfriends face in his sleep, Harry smiled too and he was off.