Aftermaths, Part 112

by Geri ([email protected])

Rating: Mostly PG-13, but NC-17 for overall story

Pairing: Snape/Lupin, Theodore/Blaise

Warning: AU; events that occurred at the end of Order of the Phoenix were significantly altered from the book.

Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, and Phoenix Rising.

Summary: The various characters deal with the aftermath of the war, and Snape and Lupin try to build a family together with Theodore and Dylan. However, some people are unable to let go of the past...

Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Hob, who belongs to William Mayne; no money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
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Draco sullenly reported for his detention as ordered, and found that while there were no bedpans to scrub, a number of students had come down with a nasty case of the flu, and their symptoms included severe nausea. Cleaning out basins of vomit turned out to be just as odious as scrubbing bedpans, and Madam Pomfrey seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in making him do it. Weasley was lying in one of the beds, with several get-well cards and boxes of candy stacked on the nightstand next to him. For an alleged assault victim, he looked surprisingly happy, probably because Daphne Greengrass was sitting by his side fussing over him profusely. Merlin's Beard, he only had a few cracked ribs; it wasn't as if Weasley was dying! When Draco came by to fetch another dirty basin, Greengrass--timid, mousy Greengrass!--actually looked up and glared at him. Draco supposed it was just another sign of how far he had fallen, that Greengrass, who was scared of her own shadow, should feel confident enough to glare at a Malfoy.

Several Gryffindors stopped by to visit Weasley, and most of them glared at Ron. Dean Thomas said in a belligerent voice, "What are you doing here, Malfoy? Come to have another shot at Ron?"

"Keep your voice down in the hospital wing, Mr. Thomas," Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "And Mr. Malfoy is my concern, not yours." Draco smirked at Thomas, and Pomfrey snapped, "Get back to work, Mr. Malfoy!"

Potter, Granger, and Weasley's sister also came by to visit Weasley. Ginny Weasley and Potter did not confront Draco, although they gave him hostile looks, but they also looked a little confused, while Granger simply looked confused.

Eventually all the visitors left as the dinner hour drew near, and Pomfrey dismissed Draco as well. He was on his way out when Weasley called, "Hey, Malfoy!"

"What?" Draco asked, none too graciously.

"Have I done something to piss you off?" Weasley asked, looking more puzzled and curious than angry.

"Nothing more than usual, Weasley," Draco replied curtly.

"Then why'd you try to beat me to a pulp?" Weasley asked bluntly.

Draco hesitated, but he couldn't think of a good answer, and he certainly wasn't about to tell Weasley the truth. "It was nothing personal, Weasley," he finally said in a gruff voice. "I was in a bad mood, and I guess I took it out on you." He paused, then added grudgingly, "Sorry." He wasn't sure what drew even that much of an apology out of him, because Snape was right--Draco hated having to apologize to anyone. Maybe it was because Weasley's face looked open--and strangely enough, almost friendly--rather than accusing, as if he genuinely wanted to know the answer to his question. Funny, he should hate Weasley, a former enemy who had gone from being a nobody to being the son of the Minister of Magic; it was almost as if he had switched places with Draco. Yet somehow Draco did not resent the Gryffindor boy nearly as much as he did Theo and Dylan.

Weasley looked surprised at hearing even a curt and not very polite apology from Draco. "Well, next time, take it out on a real punching bag, okay?" Weasley said in a mild voice.

"Huh?" was Draco's puzzled response.

"Boxing," Weasley tried to explain. "It's a Muggle sport where--oh, never mind. But the next time you feel like hitting something, try to use an inanimate object instead of a person."

"Okay," Draco said, then frowned at Weasley. "Why aren't you mad at me?"

Weasley grinned sheepishly. "Well, I might've been, but it was kind of nice having Daphne fuss over me like that. So in a way, you sort of did me a favor!"

Draco shook his head in bemusement. "Weasley, I think I might have scrambled your brains when I hit you."

Weasley just grinned at him cheerfully and said, "Although maybe next time you could avoid breaking any bones. Maybe just give me some nasty-looking bruises." He suddenly looked thoughtful. "Hmm...maybe Fred and George could come up with a candy or pill that gives you really spectacular bruises--the kind that turn all red and purple--but that don't actually hurt. They could add it to the Skiving Snackbox..."

Draco couldn't help but laugh, his anger and resentment abating slightly. Not like a weight being lifted from his chest, but more like the pressure easing enough for him to breathe a little easier. "Well...see you later, Weasley."

"See you, Malfoy," Weasley said. "And if you see Daphne, remind her to save me some dessert at dinner."

Draco did not say anything to Greengrass at dinner because she was still giving him angry looks, but he did notice that she slipped a few cupcakes from the table into a napkin on her lap and tied it up into a neat bundle. Damien and Dylan tried to ask him why he had attacked Weasley, and he told them to mind their own business. Theodore didn't bother to ask Draco about the attack, just giving him a sidelong glance of disdain that seemed to say, "I'm not going to talk to you while you're acting like a prat." Draco ignored him, ignored all of his housemates, who seemed more than willing to ignore him in return.

After dinner, Greengrass headed off in the direction of the hospital wing, presumably to deliver dessert to Weasley. Draco went back to the dorm and retreated into his room. It had always made him feel special before, to have a room all to himself, but now it made him feel lonely. Which was stupid, because with the way things were going now, even if he'd had a roommate, they would probably be fighting with each other. Draco sighed and decided to get the most unpleasant part of his punishment over with, and took some parchment and ink out of his desk and began to write his letters of apology. It was still humiliating, but not quite as bad as he had thought it would be; somehow his conversation with Weasley had taken a little of the sting out of it.
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His fellow Gryffindors were filled with outrage about the unprovoked attack, but Ron was actually enjoying himself immensely. He hadn't enjoyed getting beaten up, of course, but he didn't mind missing classes for a few days, and most of all, he secretly liked being the center of attention for a change. Most of the time, people barely noticed him, and if they did, they simply thought of him as "one of the Weasley boys" or "Harry Potter's friend". But now they did notice him, and he received a steady stream of visitors, including most of his housemates, a few classmates from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and even some of the teachers stopped by to see him. McGonagall visited him briefly to see how he was doing; the Headmaster chatted with him genially about Quidditch for a few minutes, avoiding any mention of the attack, and gave him some lemon drops; Satoshi came by and did a few magic tricks to entertain him; and Lupin brought him a book to read while he was bedridden, some sort of adventure/romance novel that had a picture of a dashing young man with a sword and a woman clad in a very low-cut gown on the cover--not really the sort of thing Ron would expect a gay man to read, but then again, what did Ron know about gay men, anyway? Even Master Diggory stopped by and said in a gruff voice, "Glad you're feeling better, Weasley."

Of course his best friends came to visit him: Harry brought Ron a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, while Hermione, of course, brought him homework from the classes he had missed. "You don't want to fall behind, especially with the N.E.W.T.s coming up," she said sternly. Even though Ron wasn't really looking forward to doing homework, it was so typical of Hermione that he just had to laugh.

He received many get-well cards and gifts from his friends: comic books, Zonko's magic tricks, and boxes of candy. Allegra gave him a handmade card and offered to loan him her toy wolf cub to keep him company while he was in the hospital wing. The cub, which she had received for Christmas, was her prized possession, so Ron swallowed his laughter and solemnly thanked her.

"That's very nice of you, Allegra, but won't you miss him?"

"Yes, but I have Portia and Emma and Chloe to keep me company in my room," Allegra replied. "I thought you might be lonely sleeping all by yourself in the hospital wing."

The older students, particularly the Slytherin boys, would probably laugh their heads off if they caught him sleeping with a stuffed animal. But Allegra looked so sincere and earnest that Ron didn't want to hurt her feelings by turning down her offer. "Thank you, Allegra," he said, accepting the toy. "What's his name?"

"Romulus," Allegra replied, handing over the plush brown wolf cub, which barked happily and licked Ron's face. "Rommie for short. I sort of named him after Professor Lupin--Remus and Romulus were twin brothers raised by a she-wolf in Roman mythology." Allegra frowned. "You know, if Professor Lupin's parents were trying to hide the fact that he was a werewolf, maybe they should have given him a different name. I mean, the names 'Remus' and 'Lupin' are kind of a dead giveaway, aren't they?"

Ron laughed. "Well, they didn't know when he was born that he would be a werewolf."

"Yes, but the Professor said that lycanthropy runs in his family," Allegra said. "It's almost asking for trouble, giving him a name like that. Though I guess that everything turned out all right in the end."

"I never thought of it that way before," Ron admitted. "Maybe it's an old family name."

"Maybe," Allegra said thoughtfully. "That would make sense, since the Professor said he was descended from a clan of shapeshifters." Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "Maybe one of his ancestors was the real Remus or Romulus! I'm going to go ask him!" And she immediately ran out of the room as Ron chuckled and stroked Rommie, who wagged his tail.

Any embarrassment he felt was more than made up for by Daphne. She thought it was "very sweet" that he was being so kind to Allegra. And he loved the way she fussed over him--exclaiming in dismay over his bruises and bandages; gently laying her soft, cool hand against his cheek in a gesture of concern and affection; arranging his blankets and pillows to make him more comfortable; jumping up to fetch him a glass of water when he was thirsty.

"He's not an invalid, you know," Hermione finally pointed out.

"Oh, I don't mind," Daphne said earnestly. "I'm happy to do anything I can to make Ron feel better."

Hermione rolled her eyes behind Daphne's back, and Ron grinned. "I guess Rosier can't expect any pampering from you if he gets hurt or sick."

"Certainly not," Hermione sniffed. "I mean, of course I'll help him if he needs it, but if he wants someone to wait on him hand and foot, he can hire a maid."

"Ron didn't ask me to help him," Daphne protested. "I want to do it. And besides, he's got broken ribs!" She shot a glare across the room at Malfoy, who was holding a basin while a flu-stricken student threw up the remains of his lunch into it. Malfoy ignored Daphne, staring at the basin distastefully.

Daphne, who had always been afraid of Malfoy, now seemed willing to take him on for Ron's sake, and that absolutely delighted him--that he was important enough to Daphne for her to conquer her fear of the Death Eaters. Of course, she had been gradually growing more self-confident over the past few months, but that too was due in part to Ron, because she had been able to confess her fears and talk about her family to him. Never before had anyone relied on him that way. Never before had anyone looked up to him that way.

So all in all, Ron felt quite content, almost smug, as lay in his hospital bed. Which was why he didn't really feel mad at Malfoy for putting him there. He was bewildered, though, as to why Malfoy had attacked him. They had been on civil terms lately, and even in the old days, Malfoy had been more likely to use a hex than a physical attack. And strangely enough, although Malfoy seemed angry, it didn't seem to be Ron that he was angry at. Since Malfoy was serving detention in the hospital wing, Ron took the opportunity to ask him why he'd done it, but all he got was a vague response about being in a bad mood, and amazingly, an apology. A very curt and gruff one, to be sure, but still--an apology! It was actually much more sincere than the written apology Draco sent him, despite its polite and flowery words.

"'Allow me to express my deepest sympathies and regrets for the injuries you received while sparring in Physical Defense class,'" Harry read. "He makes it sound like it was an accident instead of him beating on you while you were helpless! And then he goes on to say, 'When you are recovered, I will be happy to help you improve your defensive techniques in swordfighting'--what a prat!"

Ron just laughed, "Typical Malfoy!"

Harry stared at him, bewildered. "Aren't you mad at Malfoy?"

"Oh, it's no big deal, Harry," Ron said casually. "I'll be fine in a couple of days, and in the meantime I get to skip class and have Daphne fuss over me. And look at all the presents people have given me!" He motioned to the boxes of candy on the nightstand next to him, then picked up one and offered it to Harry. "Want a Chocolate Frog? Or how about a Canary Cream? Fred and George set me a box as a get-well present. They also offered to beat up Malfoy for me, but I told them that wasn't necessary. I did suggest that they add some sort of candy to the Skiving Snackbox that gives you really spectacular bruises but no pain, and they thought that was a great idea."

Looking bemused, Harry accepted and ate a Chocolate Frog as Hermione and Dylan walked into the room. Dylan handed Ron a box of Honeydukes fudge and said awkwardly, "Er...sorry about what happened."

"No problem," Ron said cheerfully, adding the box to the stack on the nightstand. "It wasn't your fault."

Hermione smiled and Dylan looked confused. "Well, I'm glad you don't hold it against the whole House, then. Actually, I don't think that Draco really has it in for you, either. He's been acting very strange lately, snapping at everyone in Slytherin. It seems like there's something bothering him, but he won't tell anyone what it is..." Dylan sounded more concerned than angry.

"Don't worry, Rosier," Ron assured him. "I'm not really mad at Malfoy. And anyway, you don't have to apologize for him."

"That's right," a cold voice said. "It's not your place to apologize for me."

The others turned to see Draco standing behind them. "Draco!" Dylan exclaimed, looking flustered for one of the first times that Ron could remember. "I'm not...that is...I was just..."

"Bugger off, Rosier," Draco said curtly. "I don't need anyone to apologize for me."

Dylan began to look angry. "I was just trying to help you, Malfoy. I was trying to be a friend to you, but you're too bloody dense to see it. Keep it up, and pretty soon you won't have any friends left."

"So who cares?" Draco shouted as Dylan turned and stalked out of the hospital wing. "I don't need your help, and I don't need any friends!"

"Mr. Malfoy, keep your voice down!" Madam Pomfrey scolded. "Now come over here and get to work; I have some basins for you to clean, and after that, some dirty linens that need changing."

Draco sullenly went over to help Madam Pomfrey, while Hermione looked torn between going after Dylan and staying with Ron. "Go on after him, Hermione," Ron told her. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Sure, I'll be fine," Ron replied. "It's no big deal. Harry can play a game of cards with me."

Hermione smiled at him approvingly. "Thanks, Ron. You know, you've really matured a lot this past year; I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks, Mum," Ron said with good-natured sarcasm, but he felt pleased.

"Oh, and I brought by your homework assignments from today's classes," Hermione added. She put the list of assignments on top of the candy boxes on the nightstand, bent down to kiss his cheek, then hurried out of the room.

"She really does act like my Mum," Ron laughed. "So how about that game of cards, Harry?"

They played cards for awhile, and a few more visitors stopped by, including Daphne. Ron's mother sent a letter in which she fretted over him and said that she had wanted to have "that awful boy" expelled, but the Headmaster had assured them that everything was under control and that nothing like this would ever happen again, and Arthur had said that he trusted Dumbledore. Professor Lupin had also appealed to their sense of compassion, telling them that Draco had been through a rough time, losing his father. "Which is true," Molly's letter reluctantly conceded, "but that doesn't excuse his behavior." She had apparently also had a few "stern words" with Dumbledore about the dangers of the Physical Defense classes; she really didn't understand why it was necessary to teach the students to brawl like hooligans, but again, Arthur had deferred to the Headmaster's judgment. She admonished Ron to be careful, dress warmly, and eat all his vegetables. She also sent a package of home-baked cookies. Ron chuckled after reading the letter and shared some of the cookies with his visitors.

Finally, all his visitors left, leaving him alone with Madam Pomfrey, who was doing some paperwork in her office, and Draco, who was putting clean sheets on a nearby bed. "Want a cookie, Malfoy?" Ron offered, grinning mischievously. "It's thanks to you that Mum sent them."

"No thanks," Draco said sullenly.

"Suit yourself," Ron said with a shrug, and ate the cookie himself. It was strange; he had hated Malfoy for years, but now he felt almost sorry for the Slytherin boy. He couldn't imagine what it must be like, to have your father try to kill you. There had been times in the past when Ron had been a little ashamed of his family's poverty and his father's eccentric ways, but now he knew that he would never trade them for anyone else, whether Arthur Weasley was Minister of Magic or not. And it must be hard for Draco, to go from being somebody important to being a nobody; Ron knew what it was like to have people look down on you. Not that Malfoy didn't deserve it, in a way, since he had been one of the people who had looked down on the Weasleys, but he had turned out to be a halfway-decent sort once he stopped trying to be a Death Eater. He had broke off the Quidditch match to help Harry save Dylan when he could've kept going after the Snitch, which had come as a pretty big surprise to Ron.

"So, what's got you in such a bad mood, Malfoy?" Ron asked curiously.

"None of your business," Draco snapped.

"Fine, but if you ever want to talk about it...well, I'm not going anywhere," Ron said. "At least not for another day or two."

For some reason, Ron's words seemed to infuriate Draco. "I don't need your pity, Weasley!" he snarled.

Ron shook his head. "Rosier's right, Malfoy. You can't tell when people are trying to be friends with you."

"Friends?" Draco snorted. "You and me? Don't make me laugh, Weasley!"

Ron shrugged and bit into another cookie. "The Gryffindor and Slytherin thing?" he asked, with his mouth half-full. "Don't see that it makes much difference these days--outside the Quidditch Pitch, that is. I still plan to kick your arse in our next match."

"You and what army?" Draco retorted, and Ron grinned at him. For a moment, Draco's sullen mask slipped from his face, and he looked strangely vulnerable--lonely and uncertain of himself, almost shy. It was a striking contrast to his normal arrogant self.

Draco opened his mouth, and Ron thought that maybe he was finally going to talk about what was bothering him, but just then, Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office and said, "Oh, Mr. Malfoy, are you still here? You can leave now, it's almost time for dinner."

The cold, arrogant look returned to Draco's face and he nodded curtly and left the hospital wing without another word, leaving Ron staring after him, feeling uneasy and a little worried, for some reason that he could not quite put his finger on.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Weasley?" Pomfrey asked.

"Uh...no, nothing," Ron replied. It's not like Malfoy would ever confide in him, anyway, he told himself. If something was bugging him, no doubt one of his Slytherin friends would get it out of him...except that Dylan seemed to think that Malfoy wasn't going to have any friends left pretty soon.

"And I think you've had enough sweets for now, Mr. Weasley," Pomfrey said sternly, taking the package of cookies out of his hand. "The house-elves will be bringing dinner up for you soon, so you shouldn't be spoiling your appetite."

"Don't worry, ma'am," Ron said. "I always have a good appetite!"

Pomfrey smiled just a little before she forced her face back into a stern expression. "Just don't expect any sympathy from me if you get a stomachache, young man!"

"Yes, ma'am," Ron said with a grin, and lay back in bed, waiting for his dinner to served. It was almost a pity that his hospital stay would be over soon. After Pomfrey left, he remembered his concern about Malfoy, but decided that there was probably nothing to worry about. Lupin was protective of the Slytherins, so surely he would help out Draco if there was a problem. Draco was much more likely to confide in Lupin than in Ron, anyway.
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After the cooling-off period Snape had dictated, Lupin called Draco into his office for a conference. Snape was there as well, although Lupin wasn't really sure if that was good idea or not, considering Snape's temper, especially when Draco was sitting there staring at them as defiantly and sullenly as he had been on the day of the incident. All of Lupin's questions were met with monosyllabic responses at best.

"So how are things going, Draco?"

Draco shrugged.

"You seem to be doing well in all your classes, apart from that incident in Master Diggory's class."

A grunt.

"Were you angry with Ron for some reason?"

Draco shook his head, and Snape said sharply, "I expect a verbal reply when someone asks you a question, Mr. Malfoy!"

"No," Draco said sulkily.

"Then what made you lose control that day?" Lupin asked.

"Nothing."

"I find that rather hard to believe, Draco."

"What difference does it make?" Draco asked sullenly. "I wrote the letters of apology, I'm serving my detention, and Madam Pomfrey hasn't complained about my work."

"The difference," Lupin said gently, "is that you seem unhappy, Draco, and we want to do whatever we can to help you."

Draco laughed, a derisive and humorless sound.

"Do you find something amusing, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked, with that familiar tone of cutting sarcasm. When dealing with troublesome or troubled Slytherin children, he tended to slip into his menacing Potions Master mode, but Lupin was not really sure that was the correct approach here. When he spoke in that tone of voice, most of the Slytherins automatically obeyed him out of sheer force of habit. In the days immediately following the final battle, Snape had told Lupin that familiarity was comforting during times of change. It had certainly worked well enough on Dylan and Theo; while Lupin would have asked Theo if he wanted to live with them, Snape had commanded, and Theo had obeyed with relief and gratitude. Dylan, of course, had known Snape well enough to understand that his gruffness was a sign of his concern.

But Draco was a different story. Snape had always allowed Draco a certain amount of leeway, and had been unable to punish him too severely for fear of offending Lucius Malfoy and ruining his cover as a Death Eater. Draco was not used to being ordered around, and he did not seem to find Snape's overbearing manner comforting in the way that Dylan and Theo did.

Draco did not answer Snape directly, but said to Lupin in a rebellious voice, "I don't need your help!"

"Everyone needs help sometimes," Lupin said, his voice gentle and patient, as if he were trying to coax a wild animal to approach him. "Even myself and Severus. There's no shame in that." Snape did not look as though he agreed with Lupin that he had no problem with asking for help, but did not contradict his lover.

"I'm fine," Draco insisted. "I don't need anyone's help."

"Then why are you quarreling with all your friends?" Lupin persisted. "Why have you been in such a bad mood lately?"

"It's none of your business!" Draco snapped.

"Do not speak to us in that tone of voice, young man," Snape shot back, "unless you wish to add another week to your detention!"

"Go ahead!" Draco shouted. "I don't care!" Snape stared at him shock, not used to any student talking back to him that way, not even Draco.

Lupin got up from his desk and walked over to place a hand on Draco's shoulder; Draco immediately shoved it away. "We don't want to punish you, Draco," Lupin said softly. "We want to help you. We care about you, and we don't want to see you in pain, but we can't help you if you won't tell us what's wrong."

"You can drop the caring Gryffindor act," Draco sneered. "There's no danger of me becoming a Death Eater, so you can stop wasting your time pretending that you want to be my friend."

"But I'm not pretending," Lupin protested, looking very hurt. "I am your friend, and I do care about you! I care about all my students, and if that's not enough, you're my best friend's cousin!"

Snape instinctively reacted to defend his lover; the sight of Lupin in pain, whether physical or emotional, always triggered a surge of fierce protection and rage. "Whether you realize it or not, Malfoy," he snarled, "Lupin is the best friend you've ever had, and I will not tolerate you speaking to him that way! He defended you whenever someone in the Order wanted to write you off as a little Death Eater. He fought to save your soul from Voldemort, even when you taunted him and insulted him and looked down your snooty little Slytherin nose at him! He helped stop Moody from killing you with the Avada Kedavra spell on the battlefield! He saved your life, you miserable brat, and you will treat him with the respect he deserves!"

"I didn't ask him to!" Draco shouted. "If you want my life back, you can have it! If that's how you feel, maybe you should have let Moody kill me!"

Lupin and Snape both stared at him in shock, too stunned to react for a moment, which gave Draco enough time to jump to his feet and run out the door. "Draco!" Lupin shouted, but the boy kept running without even pausing to look back.

"You know that I don't really care about being treated with respect, Severus," Lupin said. He leaned back against the desk and sighed wearily, absent-mindedly running a hand through his long hair, pushing it back from his face. "All I care about is helping Draco."

"I know," Snape said, sounding a little guilty. "I just lost my temper, hearing him speak to you that way. I don't understand what's gotten into him; it's as if he's turned back into the old Draco Malfoy. No, actually it's worse--even in the old days, Draco never dared to talk back to me that way."

"He's practically begging for help," Lupin said, "but he keeps pushing us away, and I don't know how to help him." He leaned against Snape's chest for comfort, and Snape wrapped his arms around him.

"He's been through a lot ever since the war ended," Snape said, "and he's adjusted very well up until now--perhaps a little too well."

"Hmm," Lupin said, looking up from Snape's chest for a moment. "You think he may have been bottling up his emotions, and now they're finally escaping?" He thought about how Theo had repressed his fear and grief and guilt for years, and decided that it was not only possible, it was probable.

"Slytherins usually deal with problems by avoiding them, if possible," Snape said, then smiled. "Unless they have pushy little Gryffindor werewolves meddling in their lives, demanding that they stop trying to hide from whatever it is that they're avoiding."

Lupin laughed and nuzzled Snape's cheek affectionately. "But something must have happened to trigger this blowup. Or is it simply that his emotions built up to the breaking point and he couldn't hold them in any longer?"

"Theodore and Dylan said that the trouble all started around Valentine's Day, when Draco supposedly had a fight with Serafina," Snape reasoned logically. "So let us start by talking to Miss Avery."

Chapter 113

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