HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

Neither of them spoke on the way to the principal's office.

Severus took a deep breath as the stone monster jumped away.

In the office, silverware hummed and spun, and portraits on the walls pretended to doze off.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk with two steaming cups of honey tea in front of him.

"Sit down." He smiled. "Lemon Olaf?"

Severus sat down stiffly and shook his head.

"Well then, tea." Dumbledore pushed a cup toward him. "Calm down. What happened just now was a bit too much for a fourth-year student."

Severus held the teacup but didn't drink it.

"Do you really have the data from those studies?"

Dumbledore looked at him: "Yes, but I called you up here mainly for something else."

He leaned back in his chair. "Whether Lucius Malfoy lent you that book because he genuinely believed you could contribute to scholarship, or if he had ulterior motives, I think you know the answer. We also understand whether the Ministry of Magic is here today to investigate a case or to use this as an excuse to put pressure on certain families."

Severus did not respond.

"You handled it very well," Dumbledore continued. "Calm, clear, maintaining academic inquiry while drawing clear lines, which is not easy, especially in... that kind of atmosphere."

"I was just stating the facts."

"Facts are often the most powerful," Dumbledore said, "but also the most dangerous. Today you have proven your worth, to the Ministry of Magic, to the School, and even to...some others."

Severus raised his eyes.

"They'll be more eager to win you over, or more eager to control you," Dumbledore said softly. "Because a sober, principled genius is more unpredictable and more... unsettling than a fanatical believer."

"What should I do?"

"Keep doing what you're doing," Dumbledore said. "Study, learn, stay alert, make true friends, hold your ground. Sometimes, not choosing is a choice in itself."

He paused, took a note from the drawer, and pushed it over.

"This is an address in London. The owner is named Giggs, and he specializes in rare magical books, especially in restoring ancient texts that have been altered or abridged. He has an eccentric temperament, but if you go there with a letter of recommendation from the headmaster of Hogwarts..."

Dumbledore blinked. "He might be willing to let you see the 'original' version of some of the books."

Severus picked up the note; it had a crooked address on it.

"Thank you, Principal."

"You're welcome." Dumbledore picked up his teacup. "Oh, by the way, Mr. Burke is still waiting, and he looks a little... restless."

Severus stood up and walked to the door when Dumbledore's voice came from behind him again, gentle yet clear:

"Severus, remember, Hogwarts will always be a sanctuary for students, but the walls of that sanctuary need to be maintained by all who live within it."

……

Downstairs. Ian leaned against the wall, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the stones.

Seeing Severus come down, he immediately straightened up.

"How is it?"

"It's nothing, I just gave you a bookstore address." Severus handed over the note.

Ian glanced at it, then stuffed it back into his pocket. "Over there in Slughorn?"

"I'm going out for tea tonight; I'll probably be listening to a two-hour lecture on being careful when making friends."

"I'll stay with you."

"Need not."

"I'm going." Ian hooked his arm around his shoulder, a little too tightly. "What if he gives you a love potion?"

Severus struggled, but couldn't break free, so he let him be.

Outside the corridor window, the sky darkened and snow began to fall again. The fine snowflakes clung to the glass, quickly melting into watermarks.

"After today, even more people will be watching you," Ian suddenly said.

"Um."

Are you scared?

Severus stopped and turned to look at him.

In the dim light, Ian's gray eyes shone brightly, devoid of joking or laziness, only with a focused anticipation of an answer.

"I'm afraid," Severus said honestly, in a low voice, "but I'm even more afraid of being dragged into places I don't want to go without even realizing it."

Ian looked at him for a few seconds, and the corners of his mouth slowly curled up.

"That's fine then." He released his hand, put it back in his pocket, and continued walking forward. "Anyway, no matter where you get dragged, I can pull you back."

Severus followed, the snow reflecting off his profile.

"What if we can't bring it back?"

"Then let's fall together." Ian said without turning his head. "There might be a library down there."

Severus didn't speak, but his steps became much steadyer on the way to the cellar.

Slughorn's tea party was indeed long and dull. The fat professor probed indirectly, offered earnest advice, and finally handed Severus a bag of expensive Ceylon tea and a stack of "distinguished alumni worth associating with".

When I left the office, the curfew was almost over.

Only the embers of the fireplace remained in the common room.

In the dorm room, Kevin and Aris were already asleep, leaving a note on the table: "New information tomorrow. —A&K"

Ian crumpled the note into a ball and threw it into the fireplace, watching it burn to ashes.

"What intelligence?" Severus asked, taking off his outer robe.

"Who knows, maybe Aris's maternal grandfather's side, or Kevin's Uncle's magical creature controller friend." Ian slumped onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling. "Anyway, there's never just one path."

Severus stood by the fire, the warm light outlining his thin frame.

He looked down at his hands and suddenly said, "Today in the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore mentioned joint maintenance."

"Um."

"I've been thinking... what do I have that's worth protecting?" His voice was soft. "Talent? Potions? But what if these ultimately become tools to hurt people..."

"You won't," Ian interrupted him.

Severus looked up.

"You won't," Ian repeated, sitting up from the sofa and looking at him. "Because you'll smash the tools before that, just like today when you handed over your derivation notes."

Severus stared at him blankly.

"I know what you're afraid of." Ian stood up, walked up to him, very close, "I'm afraid I'm not resolute enough, afraid the temptations are too great, afraid that one day I'll wake up and find myself becoming the kind of person I used to hate the most."

The fire crackled and popped, sending up a few sparks.

"I'm scared too," Ian said, his voice low and steady. "I'm scared you'll go too far, scared I won't be able to hold on, but I'm scared it won't work. All we can do is keep an eye on that line. You keep your eye on yours, I'll keep mine. If one of us slips, the other will yell."

He reached out his hand, not to touch his shoulder or hook his neck, but to open his palm and hold it in mid-air.

"Like now, if you feel cold, feel stuffy in this room, or are just annoyed, put your hands up here, and I'll take you outside for some fresh air."

Severus looked at the hand.

His fingers were well-defined, and his palms had thin calluses from years of holding a wand, as well as a red mark from a burn he had accidentally gotten while handling the horn of a poisonous beast.

He slowly raised his hand, his fingertips touching Ian's palm, which was a little cool.

Then cover it with your whole palm and grasp it.

Ian clenched his fingers, squeezed them tightly for a moment, and then quickly released them.

"Alright." He returned to his bedside. "Go to sleep. We still have to deal with Aris's intelligence bombardment tomorrow."

Severus stood there, looking at his hands.

The warmth and slight dampness from just now lingered in my palm; I wondered whose it was.