HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

Sabine suddenly spoke up, "Professor Slughorn values ​​Snape's talent highly. Talent is fundamental, but in some circles, talent alone is not enough; one needs direction, and... proper guidance."

His gaze swept meaningfully over Ian. "You two are on good terms?"

“We’re friends and partners,” Ian said. “He knows exactly what he wants.”

"Is that so?" Sabine smiled noncommittally. "That's good. Perhaps we can chat sometime. Regulus is also very interested in Snape's insights on potions."

After saying that, he exchanged a glance with Everett and then left together.

The implications of those words—both in courting and drawing boundaries—could not be clearer.

They began to define their targets more clearly, and Severus was clearly one of them.

Invitations to the Slug Club parties became more frequent, forcing Severus to make time to deal with those self-important purebloods.

Their purpose became increasingly direct, and Severus even heard about the great man to whom their family was loyal—the Dark Duke.

Do you know the Dark Duke?

The door to the Room of Requirement closed silently behind him. Severus took off his cloak and hung it up, but instead of immediately heading to the workbench, he suddenly asked a question.

Ian was taking candy out of his pocket when he heard this and paused for a moment.

He placed the bag of candy on the table, turned around, leaned against the edge of the table, and looked at Severus.

"I've heard of it." Ian's tone was casual, as if discussing whether it would rain tomorrow. "My parents mention this name occasionally, especially after my dad was transferred to the Legal Enforcement Division, when they mention it..."

He recalled briefly, "My expression would be more serious, so I would stay away from those big families who were particularly 'enthusiastic' about mentioning this name."

He walked to a small cabinet on the other side of the room, took out two cups, and poured some hot tea from the thermos. "Why are you suddenly asking this?"

Severus took the teacup. "At the Slughorn gathering, there were a few upperclassmen, Avery, Rozier, and... Regulus Black, who talked about 'that person's' vision, the inevitability of the pure-blood tradition's revival, and... power and belonging."

He paused, his voice lowering slightly, "They looked at me, mentioned my thesis, and my qualifications from the Potions Society. It was as if they were assessing whether I was... worthy of an invitation."

"An invitation?" Ian raised an eyebrow, took a sip of tea, and asked, "To join the tea party, or something else?"

"I don't know." Severus looked at the swirling liquid in his glass. "But what they're talking about doesn't sound like test scores or the Quidditch trophy."

"What about Kevin and Aris? Did their families say anything?"

A few days later, at a long table by the window in the library, as the four of them were writing their papers on the history of magic, Ian casually asked a question.

Kevin, who was struggling with a tangled quill pen strap, looked up at the sound of the voice and lowered his voice: "My dad? He's quite blunt. He told me, 'Stay away from those guys who keep talking about pureblood glory but might have some shady dealings with Knockturn Alley behind the scenes. Especially don't get involved in any 'adult' gatherings. Our family is too small to afford that kind of game.'"

He shrugged. "But he didn't go into details about what the 'adult' actually did."

Aris's expression was serious: "My father warned me that in recent years, a new ideology has been resurfacing within some long-established pure-blood families, more... organized and more aggressive than ever before. This 'Dark Duke' is said to be one of its key figures, but my family has no access to specific information at that level."

"My father's exact words were: 'Aris, your talent lies in books and logic. Stay away from those who try to rewrite the rules with violence; their feast will only end in bloodshed.'"

Severus didn't speak, but unconsciously drew a faint line on the parchment with the quill in his hand.

"Don't worry, at least there's Headmaster Dumbledore in the castle," Ian pointed to the ceiling, "He's the greatest white wizard."

Severus nodded slightly, his gaze returning to the book on divination.

……

In November, as the weather began to cool down, Ian and his friends also ushered in their first Hogsmeade Week.

The Bee Duke store was packed with students. Ian squeezed his way out, carrying two bulging paper bags in his hands, and let out a long sigh.

"Merlin, this is more tiring than dealing with a pot of wriggling, slimy worms," ​​he muttered, looking around for Severus.

Severus stood under the eaves of the Three Brooms bar not far away, avoiding the main crowd, looking up at the gray sky, his profile somewhat thin.

He wasn't wearing a thick coat, but only an old cloak over his school robe, the edges of which were already a bit worn and frayed.

Ian walked over and handed him one of the paper bags.

"Here's your coconut ice cream and licorice wand, and two packets of Hiss-Hiss-Hiss Bees." He knew Severus wasn't usually interested in sweets, but these two were things he'd occasionally indulge in.

Severus took it and whispered a thank you.

"Not buying anything else?" Ian asked, his gaze sweeping over Ian's thin clothing.

"There's nothing needed," Severus said flatly.

Ian didn't say anything more.

The two walked slowly down the street, and when they passed the Elegant Wizard Clothing store, Ian paused for a moment.

The shop window displays new winter capes, thick and warm dragon skin velvet, with subtle silver thread embroidery at the collar.

Severus stopped and looked at the shop window, but only glanced at it before looking away.

"Let's go," he said.

"Wait a minute." Ian grabbed his arm, not too tightly, and gestured with his chin toward the store. "Let's go in and take a look."

Severus frowned. "I don't need it."

“I need it,” Ian said matter-of-factly, leading him into the store. “My old one is getting cold and won’t keep me warm anymore. Can you help me find some new styles?”

Upon entering the store, Ian had a clear goal: he went straight to the area displaying thick cloaks, ran his fingers over the thickness of several fabrics, and finally stopped on a dark green dragon-skin cloak.

The design is simple, without any unnecessary decorations, but the workmanship is excellent.

"How about this one?" he asked Severus.

Severus glanced at it and nodded: "It's good. Thick and the color won't get dirty."

Ian called over a shop assistant and pointed to the dark green one: "This one, my size." Then, almost without pausing, he moved his finger to the side and placed it on a slightly smaller, blackish-gray version of the same style, "And this one, his size."

Severus turned sharply to look at him.

Ian had already taken out his purse and smiled at the clerk: "Together." His tone was as casual as if he were buying two butterbeers.

"Ian." Severus's voice was low, with a hint of barely perceptible embarrassment and resistance.

Most of the previous funds were used to buy potion ingredients, and there is very little left.

"Investment." Ian turned his head and said in a voice only the two of them could hear, "The future Potions Master can't catch a cold, it'll affect the experiment's progress, besides..."

He softened his tone, "You helped me preview potions during the summer vacation, saving me so much trouble. It's nothing."

The shop assistant had already quickly wrapped up the two cloaks.

Ian paid but didn't hand over the paper bag; instead, he directly opened the one that belonged to Severus.

He reached out and, before Severus could react, untied the belt of his old cloak.

Severus froze for a moment. "You..."

Before he could finish speaking, Ian stretched out his arm and draped the cloak over his shoulders, then straightened his collar and fastened the buckle.

His fingers were nimble, and he fastened his buttons quickly, barely glancing at Severus's expression, as if it were just a trivial matter.

He fastened it and then casually patted the non-existent wrinkles on his chest.

"Alright," Ian stepped back a little, examined it, and seemed quite satisfied. "The size is just right, this way it won't be cold."