A/N: And just like that, here we are again! Thrilled to be back with the second installment in this series. I hope you enjoy it!

(This is the sequel to 'The Eternal Point', which, if you haven't read, I'd recommend you do, only because you'll have no idea what this fic is going on about otherwise.)

Warnings: More or less the same as in 'The Eternal Point'. Some light swearing here and there, along with vague allusions to sex between adults. There will be occasional instances of mild corporal punishment, but nothing particularly described or over-the-top- it's more meant to illustrate the time/place these stories take place, along with the mindset of Slytherin's eternally grumpy housemaster.

Chapter One: The Return

Harry and Uncle Vernon barely said a word to one another during the entire trip from Little Whinging to London. Once, Harry murmured that they'd missed their exit on the motorway, to which Uncle Vernon snarled he knew his way better than an eleven-year-old boy. Harry stayed quiet, not pointing out that the sign had been fairly clear, nor that he'd turned twelve a month ago. It didn't matter; Vernon saw his mistake when the next round of signs came up, and it was with much swearing that he jerked the steering wheel sharply toward the next exit.

"Well," Harry said, as they sat in the idling car outside the station twenty minutes later. "Thanks for the ride."

Uncle Vernon grunted. He stepped out of the car and retrieved Harry's trunk from the back, heaving it onto the ground with a heavy thud. It was the most thoughtful thing he'd done for Harry all summer. Harry, in turn, opened the back door and retrieved Hedwig, who glowered at the two of them from inside her cage, very much wanting to be set free.

"See you next summer," Harry said. Uncle Vernon grunted again, turning his back on him and climbing back inside the car. Harry watched as he drove off, then turned back to Hedwig and his trunk. There were trolleys up ahead, at the station's entrance, but Harry didn't want to retrieve one and leave his trunk unattended. He was unsure he could manage both Hedwig and the trunk by himself, not without a trolley. Holding Hedwig's cage with one hand, he gripped his trunk with the other and pulled.

The trunk budged, but slowly. Gritting his teeth, Harry willed himself to try harder. He was already running behind; Uncle Vernon had waited until the last minute to leave that morning, muttering about the burden being placed upon him, and the missed exit meant there were only fifteen minutes left until the train departed.

"Harry!"

Harry turned around to see Tracey Davis hurrying toward him, grinning broadly. Harry grinned as well; he hadn't seen anyone from school since arriving at King's Cross at the end of June.

"It's so wonderful to see you! How has your summer been? Are you running late as well?" Tracey asked, talking so rapidly Harry didn't have a chance to get a word in edgewise. She threw an arm around him in a quick hug as she went on. "There was terrible traffic on the motorway, not like last year. Last year there was no traffic at all. Were you caught in it too?"

"Not coming from Surrey," Harry said, watching as a man and woman who could only be Tracey's parents caught up with them. "But we started off late, then missed our exit." To the two adults, he said, "Hello."

"Hello, there. You must be Harry," Mrs. Davis said, eyes briefly flashing toward Harry's scar before respectfully looking away. "Tracey's had such lovely things to say about you all summer."

"Not just you," Tracey said quickly. She smiled and explained, "Our entire year. I've missed everyone." She paused. "Are you carrying that all alone?"

"Erm, yeah," Harry said. "My uncle dropped me off, but he's already left."

Mr. and Mrs. Davis glanced at one another. Wordlessly, Mrs. Davis slipped a hand into the pocket of her Muggle jacket. When she removed it, Harry could see the tip of her wand poking from her sleeve. She tapped his trunk, then lifted it as easily as if it were made of feathers.

"You'll be able to carry your owl?" she asked Harry, nodding at Hedwig.

"Yes," he said, both sheepish and grateful for the help. "Thank you, Mrs. Davis."

Mr. Davis, who was carrying Tracey's trunk, winked at Harry. "Convenient, isn't it? No idea how I got by before meeting this one."

Harry grinned. He knew Mr. Davis was a Muggle, but it was obvious his relationship with magic was nothing like the Dursleys'. Tracey had once said her parents had met at a dance club in Manchester during the war. Harry didn't think his Aunt Petunia had ever set foot anywhere near a dance club. If Uncle Vernon had, it was likely only to sell them drills.

"Very convenient," Harry agreed.

They made their way into the station, and onto Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters with eight minutes to spare. The Davises helped Harry and Tracey carry their trunks onto the train, and once they had, Harry said, "Thank you for all your help. I don't know how I would have made it in time otherwise."

"Of course," Mr. Davis said, shaking Harry's hand. "Always happy to help a friend of Tracey's. You have a good year, Harry."

Tracey hugged her father tightly, then her mother. As they said their goodbyes, Harry slipped away, deeper into the train. Familiar faces gazed back from each compartment, but he only said hello, waving occasionally, not stopping until he reached a compartment near the back of the train.

"There you are," Blaise Zabini said as he slid the door open, voice regal as ever. "Where've you been?"

"Late," Harry said, lifting his trunk with ease and placing it on the luggage rack over one of the seats.

"Well, that was obvious, wasn't it?" Draco Malfoy said, the level of sarcasm in his voice seemingly to have been refined to a truly impressive (and intolerable) level over the summer. "Good to see you're as sharp as ever, Potter."

"Good to see you're still an arsehole, Malfoy," Harry shot back lightly, then offered him a smile, which wasn't returned.

Ah. So he was in one of his actual moods, not one of his bantering moods. It was difficult to tell the two apart at times. No matter, Harry had more important things to focus on. He turned to Hedwig, who hooted at him furiously. "I know, girl- it's okay- I'm letting you out-"

Reaching into his pocket for the key Uncle Vernon had given him as they approached the station, Harry unlocked the snowy owl's cage. She burst forth, flapping her wings and pecking at Harry's outstretched hands mercilessly.

"I know- I know-" Harry said desperately, wincing and trying as gently as possible to fight her off. "I'm sorry, you know I couldn't do anything-"

"What is she doing?" Draco demanded as the rest of the Slytherin second year boys reared back, attempting to avoid an inadvertent talon or beak.

"Give her a second," Harry muttered, covering his face with his arms and waiting for the owl to calm enough to allow him to pet her. When she finally did, he reached out and stroked her gently, murmuring, "I'm sorry, Hedwig. It won't happen again."

Hedwig wouldn't look at him. She hooted again, softer this time but just as indignant.

"My uncle locked her in her cage at the start of the summer," Harry explained to his housemates, staring directly at Hedwig, who still looked away. He continued to stroke her, resting the side of his face against her for a long moment before looking up. "She hasn't been able to stretch her wings since then."

"Since the start of the summer?" Theo Nott asked. He looked horrified. "Your relatives didn't let her out once?"

"No," Harry said flatly, as Hedwig let out yet another hoot. This one was less furious, more resignedly wounded at her fate. "I'm sorry, girl. I tried to talk to them, but..."

"And I thought my family was insane," Theo muttered, half to himself.

"Would you like to fly to school?" Harry asked Hedwig. He nodded at the window. "Do you know the way?"

Hedwig looked at him at last, with an expression that seemed offended he had to ask either question. Harry opened the train window and the snowy owl fluttered her wings as though to prepare. Then she hopped onto the ledge, nipped Harry's finger far more gently than before, and took off, soaring down the tracks and out of sight.

"It'll take her ages to reach Hogwarts," Draco pointed out. "She probably won't be there until tomorrow."

"Good," Harry said. "She needs some time to herself." He paused, noticing Draco's owl wasn't present either. "Where's Eltanin?"

"I let him fly to school." Draco straightened himself and said, "Unlike you, I don't treat my owl cruelly. He was allowed to fly about all summer."

"Oi, shut it, won't you?" Theo said sharply. "His relatives locked up his owl, not him."

Harry shrugged, looking at the space between his feet. He felt terrible about what had happened to Hedwig. To the assembled group, he said, "They don't like magic. You know."

"What are they, stupid?" Gregory Goyle asked as Vincent Crabbe nodded in agreement.

"Very," Harry said, settling into a seat after setting the empty cage next to his trunk.

He'd missed them, all of them. Even Draco, somehow. They'd managed to write a bit over the summer, but even when Harry sent back letters with his friends' own owls it was risky business. Really, it was more a case of receiving letters in the first place. Uncle Vernon had let out more than one angry tirade at breakfast over the number of owls swooping down on 4 Privet Drive, after which Harry had politely requested his friends to perhaps write a bit less, not because he wanted them to, but because he lived in a Muggle town and the owls were beginning to draw undue attention.

This worked, for the most part; he started receiving multiple letters from multiple people at once, delivered in bundles by Blaise's new owl, a gift from his stepfather. This kept outbursts from Uncle Vernon to a minimum, though Hedwig grew increasingly furious each time she witnessed the uncaged owl fly into Harry's bedroom.

"Listen," Blaise said quietly to Harry as the boys settled into their compartment. "I've got your books in my trunk."

Harry exhaled with relief. He'd mentioned casually in one of his letters that he had no way of going to Diagon Alley, and that his relatives weren't about to take him. He'd only been making conversation, not expecting anything to come of it, but Blaise replied that if Harry wrote a letter to Gringotts specifying how much was allowed to be removed from his vault, the goblins would set aside the money for Blaise and his mother. Then, Blaise explained, they'd buy Harry's books for him.

"Thank you," he murmured, keeping his voice low. "I owe you."

"Yeah, you do." Blaise tilted his head, hiding his smile. "So, aside from your relatives being horrid, how was your summer?"

"Horrid," Harry said, grinning as the train began to make its way down the platform.

"Harry! There you are!" Hermione Granger called out, running toward him with Neville Longbottom on the platform just outside the school grounds, Ron Weasley trailing behind them. "It's wonderful to see you!"

"You too," Harry said, and for a brief moment the awkwardness of what had occurred at the end of the previous year hung over them, particularly the fate of Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Then it was gone, because the past was the past, they'd dealt with it, and they'd moved on (even if Harry wasn't about to lend Hermione or Neville any of his possessions). As Professor Snape frequently said, he didn't care if one was sorry, he cared if they learned from their mistakes. They'd certainly all learned something from that terrible experience. Harry smiled a genuine smile at the Gryffindors. "How have you been?"

"Busy," Hermione said. "Studying, preparing for the year."

Harry's stomach sank; he hadn't been able to do any of his homework due to his possessions being locked in the cupboard under the stairs all summer long. He'd tried to scribble some down as best he could on the train, and he'd do his best to explain his situation to his professors, but he was already mentally preparing himself for the slew of detentions inevitably coming his way.

Still, he reasoned, detention at Hogwarts was better than the two months he'd just spent at the Dursleys.

Sort of.

"It's been quiet by me," Neville said. "Gran doesn't like much fuss."

Harry turned to Ron, whose eyes were focused on Draco's. The two boys stared at each other, then looked away abruptly. To Harry, Ron mumbled, "Same as always. Good to see you."

"Good to see you too," Harry said, and the Gryffindors and Slytherins were parted as they reached the horseless carriages that would take them to the castle.

"What was that about?" he asked Draco as they climbed into a carriage.

"Nothing," Draco muttered. "Mind your own business."

Harry rolled his eyes and chose the seat furthest from Draco's, which wasn't particularly far, given the carriage only held four people at a time, six in a pinch. The next thing he knew, Millicent Bulstrode was clambering her way next to him, a large cage from which loud yowls could be heard in hand.

"I was wondering where you were," she said, dropping herself beside him. "Long time, no see. Scoot over."

"Good to see you, Millicent," Harry said, scooting over and eyeing the cage suspiciously. "Is that...?"

"His name is Nero," Millicent said proudly, tilting the cage so Harry could see the cat she'd been promised if she did well on her exams. "And he's absolutely perfect. Aren't you, Nero?"

Nero, who seemed to be in a state of deep distress, hissed at Harry loudly.

Harry still couldn't quite believe he was back. As he sat on a low leather sofa in the corner of the common room, he smirked at the new first years, huddled together and timidly looking around.

"Come off it," a voice said behind him. "You looked like a lost baby deer your first night here."

Harry shifted over to make room for Terence Higgs. They'd greeted each other in the Great Hall but hadn't had a chance to properly speak until now. "How was your summer?"

"The usual. Stayed with George Lambourne's folks again," the seventh year said lightly, not staying on the subject of his rift with his parents for long. "His dad works at the Ministry, and he was able to snag me a part-time work experience in the Department of Magical Transportation. It was brilliant."

"Sounds brilliant," Harry lied.

"I mean, I'd really love to work in the Department of International Magical Co-operation," Terence said longingly. "But I'm just grateful for the chance to have a bit of experience, you know? Anything that shows you've gone above and beyond helps."

Harry nodded; he understood why that would be especially important to him. Harry had been as furious as the rest of Slytherin when Terence wasn't chosen as Head Boy at the end of the previous year. As much as the house ragged on him for being notoriously rule abiding and overzealous in his role as Slytherin's Head Prefect, he'd pushed himself harder and proven himself more than anyone.

"How was your summer?" Terence asked.

"Awful," Harry said. "I'm just glad to be back."

"Just like nearly every other Slytherin," Terence said with a nod.

Harry's gaze traveled across the room. Greg and Vincent had stuffed their pockets with even more desserts than they'd already snarfed in the Great Hall; they continued to chow down down happily as the girls gathered around Nero and Mrs. Norris. Mrs. Norris, who'd slipped into the common room with the rest of the house after the feast, barely reacted to the cooing and snuggles directed her way, instead staring coolly at Nero, her domain infringed upon. Nero, in turn, proceeded to act as though he was the only cat present, accepting rubs with loud purrs and headbutts, his initial agitation long forgotten.

"See you, then," Terence said as he slipped away, heading toward an alcove where his girlfriend, Ellen Greybourne, was waiting. Harry pushed himself up, off the sofa, and joined Draco, Blaise, and Theo.

"It's good to be back," he said, joining them near the fire. The fifth years had taken over the best spot for themselves, but they'd managed to find a not-terrible one within its vicinity.

"Your trousers are too short," Draco said, nodding at Harry's legs. His socks, poking out below the hem of his trousers, were visible nearly in their entirety. "And your robes are too small. Don't you have any clothes that fit?"

His emphasis on any seemed to imply he was referring to the Muggle clothes Harry wore on the weekends, a bit of a low blow considering Harry had spent half the previous year using the spell Snape had taught them as a group to shrink them into something slightly more reasonable.

"Grew a little," Harry said shortly. "Couldn't use magic over the break, but I'll size them up when I have some time."

"So much for the great Potter fortune." Draco sneered at him. "Can't even afford new clothes."

"Shut it, Malfoy," Theo said. "You've been in a foul mood all day. You should know by now no one wants to deal with you when you're like this."

"Yeah," Blaise agreed. "You're being a pain in the arse. What's happening?"

"Nothing," Draco snapped, standing up and starting over toward Vincent and Greg who, he claimed, asked less questions.

Harry exhaled. "You know, I actually missed him, but only when he's not being a tit."

"He had a rough summer, I think," Blaise said. "Something to do with his father."

Harry went silent. The rest of Slytherin knew about Voldemort's attempt to return at the end of the previous term, but they didn't know how closely Lucius Malfoy had been involved in the plot. Draco, who'd gone against his father's orders behind his back, had probably had a very uncomfortable summer at home, even if his father didn't know what he'd done to stop his plans.

"Is it true his dad and Ron Weasley's dad got into a brawl at Flourish and Blotts?" Theo asked.

"Is it true they did what?" Harry asked as Blaise nodded.

"It's true. I didn't see it, but Pansy did from further inside the shop. Mr. Malfoy ran his mouth a bit about the Weasleys being a disgrace to wizards everywhere, and one thing led to another..." Blaise shrugged. "Pansy said it was over nearly as quickly as it started, but still, you don't see something like that often, do you?"

Harry shook his head, thinking of the fistfight that had ensued between him and Draco their second night at Hogwarts. Of course, they'd been eleven. He didn't know how old Mr. Malfoy or Mr. Weasley were, but they were certainly older than eleven.

"I hate it when adults start going off about blood purity," Theo muttered. "It's the stupidest thing to get angry over."

Before anyone could reply, the stone wall slid open, and Harry turned to see Professor Snape glide into the room. Instantly, the house sprang to its feet and hurried to line up against the stone wall opposite the fire, the first years following with bewildered expressions as they hastened to mimic the older students.

Harry had only briefly made eye contact with the Head of Slytherin in the Great Hall. Professor Snape had given him a tiny, barely susceptible nod, which Harry returned as he loaded his plate with more potatoes. Now the foreboding figure marched slowly to the far end of the line, paused, then marched back to its start. As he walked, his hand would suddenly dart out, jerking a cloak into place or straightening a green-and-silver tie. The students hurried to smooth down their clothing and rectify their appearances before he had a chance, only partially succeeding.

"Welcome, once more, to Slytherin," Professor Snape finally said, his familiar icy voice a balm to Harry.

"I would like to extend a welcome on behalf of everyone present to our newest Slytherins," he continued, eyes panning over to the trembling first years, who didn't know the man well enough to see through his exterior. Which, of course, was exactly how he intended it. "To those of you just joining our house, and to those foolish enough to need reminding, I will tell you now that I am not a man to be trifled with. You may have heard stories of my supposed iron fist over this house. These stories are all true. However clever or smart you think you are, I am cleverer, and I am smarter. You will not fool me with your schemes. You will only incur my wrath, something you'll find very quickly is an experience you will deeply regret."

Harry did his best to hide his smile. Snape was really laying it on thick this year. Then again, he'd laid it on thick last year as well.

"Potter!" Snape snarled, whirling on him. "Do you find something funny?"

"No, sir," Harry said, straightening his posture and forcing his face into one of respectful neutrality. "Nothing."

Snape glared at him, then turned back to the crowd at large and began rattling off his impossibly huge list of rules, ones he expected to be committed to heart instantaneously. To be fair, they were mostly common sense rules, such as not experimenting with magic alone or sneaking about in his storeroom unaccompanied. They added up, though, and by the time he was finished the first years looked as though they'd very much like to make a run for the next train back to London.

"It is a great privilege to be in Slytherin," Snape said, wrapping up his speech in a similar fashion to the year before. "I will not coddle you or permit you to act out your every craven whim, but I will help mold you into the notable witches and wizards you are capable of becoming. I anticipate great things from all of you."

On that note, he turned and exited the common room without another word. For a moment everyone stood in silence, then burst into laughter and conversation as the first years stood with their mouths agape.

"He just gets softer each and every year," Lucian Bole said with a snort. "I half expected him to start giving out hugs!"

"You're just grateful he didn't send you to bed early two years in a row!" Reggie Derrick said, undoing his top button and flopping on the nearest sofa. "But I think you're right. The old boy might be going soft."

"He's all right," Harry murmured to an especially short boy with curly hair. "He's tough, and he'll rip your head off if you disobey him, but he's one of the most decent people you'll ever meet."

The first year didn't seem very comforted by this, but he did nod, his eyes slowly moving up to Harry's scar. "You're Harry Potter. Aren't you?"

Harry nodded, and the first year just stared at him before turning away and scurrying off to his friends.

Severus leaned back into his chair, debating leaving his study for a cigarette on the castle ramparts. Here he was again, the summer having passed impossibly quickly. He'd barely had time to putter about his childhood home, concocting potions that left the walls and ceilings in increasingly horrid states. Of course, that lack of time was partly due to how much of his summer he'd spent with a certain Charity Burbage in varying states of undress. Severus smiled to himself, remembering. Fine, it was worth the tradeoff.

A knock at the door. Severus sighed and rose to his feet. Back to the school year; back to being interrupted every five minutes; back to never having a moment of peace for himself. It would be Minerva, no doubt, looking to spend time together. Something he rather enjoyed, especially when drinks were involved, but he'd never admit it.

It wasn't Minerva on the other end of the door, Severus found, but the Potter boy. "May I help you, Potter?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Erm," the boy said, shuffling awkwardly. "I wanted to speak with you for a moment, sir, if you have time."

Severus stepped aside, gesturing the boy inside. "Sit."

Harry took a seat in one of the chairs opposite Severus's desk, the latter of whom settled himself behind it once more.

"Now," Severus said. "What is so important you had to disturb me during one of my very rare moments of privacy?"

The boy didn't even flinch; it was fascinating to observe the difference between the first years and the second years. Severus raised an eyebrow once more, waiting for him to speak.

"Well, sir," Harry started, looking at his lap sheepishly.

"Eyes on me."

He looked up reluctantly, but held Severus's gaze. "It's just... well, my family, sir. They locked my books away at the start of the summer."

"And?"

"And they didn't let me near them until the end of summer. Until this morning, sir," Harry explained. He sped up slightly. "I tried to tell them I had homework, sir, but they wouldn't listen. I tried to do a bit on the train, but..."

He pulled a crumpled bit of parchment out of his pocket. Severus took one look at its scribbled contents, then handed it back to Harry, who stuffed it inside his pocket once more. "I know it's not enough. I just wanted to tell you now, sir. I didn't want you to find out later, once you collected everyone else's."

Severus studied the boy. He clearly expected to be punished, or at least severely scolded. Damned Muggles. Severus remembered Petunia Evans; he hadn't expected her to be this petty, but then again, he wasn't exactly surprised.

"Your clothing," he said at last, addressing the other elephant in the room, "Is entirely too small, Potter."

"I know, sir," Harry said ducking his head before remembering to make eye contact. "I grew a bit more than I thought, and didn't bother buying new clothing. I'll use that spell you taught us to fix my uniform, sir."

"Nonsense," Severus said. "Just because you were too lazy to buy new clothes doesn't mean you're permitted to use what's intended to be a shortcut for simple repairs. You'll go to Hogsmeade this weekend with an older student and purchase a new uniform, then return straight to school."

Severus knew the boy understood what he was doing, as did all of his Slytherins when a conversation like this was to be had. They had their pride, and if they wanted to truly discuss their families, they would (and did). Harry clearly only wanted to say exactly what was absolutely needed, which Severus would permit, for now, while keeping an eye on his family life as best he could. Just as he did with all his Slytherins.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, flushing slightly. "I will."

"As for your homework..." Severus paused. "You have two weeks. I'll inform your other professors your extension is due to unforeseen circumstances that occurred over the summer."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said again, his body slumping with relief. He sounded as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "I- thank you. You've no idea."

"Don't be a dunderhead, Potter." Severus fixed him with a sharp look. "Did you really think I'd punish you for something out of your control?"

The boy nearly shrugged before catching himself and saying, "I wasn't sure, sir."

"I'm a tyrant," Severus said calmly. "But not a cruel tyrant. As for next summer, I'll write a letter at the end of term to your relatives ensuring you're allowed to do your schoolwork as needed."

Harry hesitated at this, seemingly about to argue, but he kept his mouth shut. Severus wondered if the boy was right, if a letter would do more harm than good. Either way, something had to be done, and would be done. Luckily, he had roughly ten months to think over the details.

"Will that be all, then?" Severus asked, rising from his desk.

"That's all, sir." They walked to the door together, and as Severus opened it, the boy shot him a small smile. "It's good to be back."

"For you, perhaps. I've been dreading this day all summer."

The boy's smile widened as he exited the study. He was certainly a second year, Severus thought to himself. The same boy had trembled harder than anyone a year ago.

He'd barely had the place to himself for three minutes when someone knocked again. Muttering to himself, Severus stood up and crossed the study again, pulling the door open. Minerva stood waiting for him, a bottle of bourbon in hand.

"Here, or the Astronomy Tower?" she asked.

Severus thought it over, then stepped into the corridor and said, "Astronomy Tower."

Minerva smiled at him as he locked the door behind him, and the two old friends made their way to their usual spot together.

They were in the same dorm room as the year before, with a sign outside that said 'Second Year' instead of 'First Year'. Harry tossed himself onto his long-missed bed, letting out a grunt of contentment. He stayed there for a moment before forcing himself up to change out of his uniform and get ready for bed, or at least ready to sit in bed.

Draco was still in a shit mood, that much was obvious, so Harry didn't bother talking to him, knowing he'd only receive something rude or scathing in reply. Instead, he listened as Vincent excitedly talked about the bloodhounds his father raised, and the new puppies he'd helped train that summer.

"I'm not very good at training them," Vincent admitted. "I keep giving them treats when I shouldn't, and my father gets angry. But they're good dogs. I want them to be happy even if they're not very good at following commands."

Blaise, meanwhile, had gained a new stepfather over the summer. He told them about the small wedding with an air of studied indifference as he hung a new poster of the Weird Sisters over his bed. Harry knew Blaise's father had died when he was young, and that he'd had a stepfather who'd died as well. Blaise didn't like to talk about it any more than he absolutely had to, so Harry didn't bring up the topic when they spoke. He understood, not preferring to talk much about his own parents in day-to-day conversation.

"And now he's acting as though he's known me my entire life," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. "But it works out well for me, since he keeps buying me presents. Mum says he's loaded."

"Did he buy you a Nimbus Two Thousand and One?" Draco asked, speaking up at last.

"What?" Blaise turned to look at him. "No, of course not." He paused. "Why?"

Draco sat up, a small smile on his face. He unlocked his trunk, and reached inside. It seemed as though a charm had been placed inside it to comfortably fit all his possessions, because a moment later he pulled out the most beautiful broomstick Harry had ever seen.

"Whoa," Vincent said, the rest of the boys gasping as they admired it.

"He bought me one, and he's already promised Professor Snape in writing that he'll buy the entire Slytherin Quidditch team a fleet of them as well. We're going to win the cup for the eighth in a row with these," Draco said proudly, though he hadn't relaxed, not really.

"Brilliant," Greg murmured, running a hand across the polished wood of the broom's shaft.

"So, he's buying your way on the team, then?" Theo asked.

Draco shrugged loftily. "He has money and he's chosen to invest it wisely, that's all I can say. Though I will be trying out for the open Seeker position now that Higgs is finally stepping down."

Blaise snorted at Draco's assessment of his father's decision-making, then said, "Harry, aren't you trying out for Seeker?"

Harry didn't reply. He'd planned on it, though he didn't have a broomstick of his own. Terence Higgs had promised to lend him his Comet 260 (for a fair price), but as much as Harry loved that broom, it obviously no match against the professional racing broom in front of him now. Draco would stomp him flat at tryouts.

"He can try," Draco said with a nasty little smile. "But that's probably all he'll be able to do."

"I liked you better at the end of last year, Malfoy," Harry said, climbing back into bed and wondering how long it would take until Draco shed off whatever had happened this summer. He hoped it wouldn't take long; otherwise there was a chance there'd be a brawl in the common room the second day of school two years straight.

"I can't stand Lockhart," Minerva said frankly, sipping at her second bourbon. "Self-obsessed creature. He was the same as a student. Brilliant at Charms, I'll give him that, but thought he was God's gift to humanity. You must remember; he was older than you, but loud enough to be beloved by the entire school, at least the way he tells it."

"Why, Minerva." Severus looked at her, eyebrow raised. "I think he's an exceedingly talented fellow. I had no idea you had such a jealous streak. It's very unbecoming."

Minerva stared at him, then burst out laughing. Shaking her head, she said, "I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, giving him the job." Severus grunted, and her expression changed. "Of course, it should be you in the role, but you know what that position's like- you know he values you too much to-"

"Yes, Minerva, I know," Severus said, waving a hand and sighing deeply. "No need to brood on it."

"You know," Minerva said, turning to look at the stars, then glancing sideways at him. "I spent some time with my Gryffindors tonight in the common room. Just like you do with yours."

"Will wonders ever cease? Perhaps I should go to Hogsmeade and play the lottery, if rare events like these keep occurring."

Minerva swatted his shoulder. "You're a terrible influence on me. I told myself at the end of last year I ought to spend more time with them, and so I am."

"I'm very proud of you, Minerva," Severus said dryly, and she snorted.

"I just hope this year is quieter than the one before," she said, shaking her head. "We deserve that, don't we?"

"We deserve nothing. The world is an unfair place." Severus took a sip from his third helping of bourbon. "But I would prefer a peaceful year."

Minerva raised her glass. "Well, then, to a peaceful year."

Reluctantly, Severus raised his own. "To a peaceful year."

They clinked, drank, then sat in silence. After a moment, Minerva began to laugh softly. Shaking her head, she said, "Well, we've gone and hexed it now, haven't we?"