the marriage stone (Discontinued)

Chapter 13 - Understanding Werewolves

And Snape.

Harry frowned. Snape had picked him up and carried him in his arms yesterday. That counted he guessed. It was close enough. It surprised him that for some reason he wanted it to count.

Hermione interrupted the two of them a moment later, entering the room carrying a tray of food for Harry. "Madam Pomfrey sent this for you Harry," she explained as she approached the bed. Ron helped Harry sit up, propping pillows behind his back to settle him. Hermione set the tray on Harry's lap.

"What did Snape want?" Ron asked Hermione as she sat down in the chair opposite him.

Harry shot him a questioning look as he took a bite of the eggs on the plate.

"Snape stopped us in the hallway on the way here," Ron explained. "Said he wanted to talk to 'Mione."

They both looked questioningly at Hermione. She frowned. "He wanted to know about the spell King's Voice," she explained. "Wanted to know about our extra study sessions."

Harry stiffened at her words, old mistrust flaring in him. "Is he going to stop us?" He had counted on those study sessions continuing. God knew they weren't going to learn anything useful from Professor Dubloise this year. If it hadn't been for Hermione and her study sessions Harry doubted he'd be alive now.

"No," Hermione said quickly before Ron could launch into a tirade condemning Snape before hearing the outcome of their conversation. "No, he's not. In fact he implied that he approved. Actually, he sort of . . .complimented us."

"What?" Ron and Harry stared at her in shock.

Hermione just shrugged. "It was kind of odd really," she admitted. "He actually seemed impressed. By all three of us."

Harry had become gradually used to the lessening of hostilities between himself and the Potions Master and was only mildly shocked by her words. But Ron, he just stared at her like a gaping fish, mouth opening and closing as he floundered for words.

"I'm serious," she insisted.

"Snape?" Ron asked for clarification, disbelief coloring his words.

Hermione nodded.

"Did he. . ." Ron shook his head. "Give points to Gryffindor?"

"Well, no," Hermione admitted. "But then this wasn't really about being Gryffindors, was it? It was about being friends, the three of us."

Friends. Harry, Ron and Hermione. And for some reason Snape understood that it mattered. It mattered a lot. The thought flooded Harry with a strange sense of warmth.

"Well, damn," Ron laughed. "When did Hell freeze over, and why didn't I get a memo?"

That set the three of them off, and for a moment they forgot about Death Eaters and wars and dying, and lost themselves in just being teenagers.

Eventually, at Madam Pomfrey's insistence, Ron and Hermione left, giving Harry a chance to sleep once again. He slept through the rest of the day, his body exhausted from the ordeal he'd been through.

He woke that evening to a feeling of warmth pressed up against his side, and for one disoriented moment he thought it was Snape. But Snape had never touched him, not in all the weeks they had slept beside each other. Prying open his eyes, he realized it was Padfoot, snoring softly beside him, the shaggy dog stretched comfortably on top of the bed's duvet. Sitting again in the chair at his bedside, an amused smile on his face as he stared at the two of them, was Remus Lupin.

"How long has he been there?" Harry asked softly, motioning to the sleeping dog.

"Hours I imagine," Remus mused. "He missed lunch."