After All TBGC
Updated: January 9, 2005
Summer I / Part
B:
August 14, 1990
Six weeks later,
Harry was beginning to think his summer wasn’t going to be all that bad after all. When he wasn’t busy annoying Snape, he was
with Hagrid outside or in the Headmaster’s office playing with Fawlkes and, sometimes
when he was really bored, he’d hide in the kitchen and watch the elves. It wasn’t the most eventful summer he’d
ever had, but it was, by far, the best. He
wasn’t in a cupboard, he could get food whenever he wanted, and he didn’t have
to spend all his time with people who hated him for existing, and he had gotten birthday
presents, even if most of them were educational gifts from the staff (all except Hagrid,
who had given Harry a pair of heavy boots he could use to tromp around the grounds when it
was muddy).
It wasn’t until
a few days before Draco Malfoy was scheduled to arrive that things took a turn for the
worse. Hagrid left to get the supplies that he’d
need during the year, as well as some other things that he wouldn’t tell Harry about;
then Dumbledore was called away on business and supposed that he wouldn’t get back
till right before school started. Not only
that, but Harry had been told that in the headmaster’s absence he was to stay within
the school walls. No going off to play with
Fang or trying to sneak into the
The first day alone
had been somewhat boring, the second almost intolerable, and by the third, he found
himself playing hopscotch in the second floor corridor, something he never, in a million
years, would have imagined himself doing.
But there he was,
skipping across a chalk outline that extended the entire length of the corridor and had
been drawn on the floor by the house elves, who had probably made it that long to get
Harry out of kitchens for more than ten minutes at a time so that they could get their
work done.
He had made it
halfway across twice, but kept getting distracted and stepping on a line, which had been
magicked to give him a small shock. On his
third crossing he could actually see the end of the squares when something connected
firmly with the back of his leg and sent him tumbling to the ground.
Harry felt his knee
scrape against the stone and held in a cry of pain. Sitting
back, he pulled his legs up to get a good look at them; the trousers were shredded but his
knees weren’t too bad, the left one was bleeding a little though, and he would
probably have to put something on it. He
rubbed it, wincing as he wondered if Snape’s salves would sting as much as Pomphrey’s
did.
A derisive laugh
sounded behind him, “That was brilliant,” behind Harry stood another boy whom he
had never seen before.
Stumbling to his
feet, Harry looked over the person he could only assume was Draco Malfoy by the decorative
‘M’ stitched into the front of his silky black robe. Malfoy was taller than Harry by nearly a foot, he
had white blond hair that was gelled back, sharp features, and grey eyes that Harry could
only describe as... mischievous.
Harry tested his
left leg, which felt a bit shaky, while Malfoy continued to chuckle to himself and held
out his hand. “I am Draco Malfoy. You’re Potter.”
He didn’t think he liked Malfoy very much, so he didn’t bother to take the
proffered hand, “Yes.”
Malfoy dropped the
hand, looking perturbed. “My father says
you’re a mudblood.” When Harry didn’t react, he crossed him arms over his
chest. “Well, are you?”
Harry shrugged,
“What’s a mudblood?”
“It means your
parents are muggles.”
He didn’t like
the way Draco had said ‘muggle’, and he most certainly didn’t think ‘mudblood’
sounded any better, “My father was a wizard, but my mother came from a muggle family,
if that’s what you mean.”
Draco shrugged
disinterestedly, “Halfblood then, not much better.” He heaved a heavy sigh and
crossed his arms over his chest, looking as though he were imitating the potions master. “Snape sent me to tell you dinner was ready.”
Still frowning,
Harry brushed past the other boy and began walking down the hall towards the stairs that
would take him to the dungeon. He ignored the
indignant little noise that Draco made and the hurried footsteps trying to keep up with
him.
Of all the possible
scenarios that Harry had come up with regarding Malfoy, he had never imagined that he
would be such a... such a prat. Harry hadn’t
particularly thought they would get along, he’d been terribly afraid that he’d
make a fool of himself, that he’d freeze up or say something stupid as he often did
around people who’d lived their entire lives in the wizarding world, but he hadn’t
once thought that maybe Malfoy would be so...
He couldn’t
even think of a proper word to describe him.
Draco pushed past
him just as they reached Snape’s door and smirked at him before opening the door and
marching in, shoulders back like a soldier on duty. “I
brought him back; he was playing some stupid muggle game on the second floor.”
Snape looked up from
his desk and took in the scuff marks on Harry’s knees with obvious disapproval,
“You will tell me where you’re going next time.”
Harry fought back a
rebellious huff and sat down at the table the house elves had left. Snape didn’t like having a table clutter his
already cramped living space, so instead, he had the house elves bring one down for dinner
and take it back with them before he woke the next morning.
Harry didn’t see the point, but also didn’t want to aggravate
Snape by asking too many questions.
Dinner consisted of
codfish, chips or mashed potatoes, and green beans. Harry
liked chips, especially with ketchup, as he hadn’t gotten to eat them very often at
the Dursleys', but Snape despised the mere idea of finger food; he literally shuddered
when Harry ate fish sticks or chicken nuggets, and pizza left the professor looking
utterly repulsed. Of course, it went without
saying that having seen how much these forms of food disturbed his guardian, Harry asked
for them as often as possible.
The only positive
thing that Harry had to say about Professor Snape was that, unlike McGonagall, he did not
make Harry say thanks when they ate in private; he did, however, make Harry wait until
they had both seated, which could sometimes take up to ten minutes.
Harry was horrified
to find that Draco was as meticulous an eater as Snape.
He cut his food into small, easily chewed pieces, didn’t ask for salt
or pepper, he kept his elbows off the table, his back straight, and both feet firmly on
the floor. It was very disconcerting for
Harry, who felt suddenly uncomfortable with his legs crossed in his chair and ketchup all
over his plate.
He ate sporadically,
shoving little pieces of food into his mouth every so often until the others were finished
and he was free to push his plate away. It was
another one of the very few good things Harry had to say about Snape, he did not insist
that Harry finish every bite on his plate, in fact, he couldn’t care less whether
Harry ate anything at all.
Standing up, Harry
put his utensils on his plate and folding his napkin into a neat square. While Snape could do nothing about Harry’s
abysmal taste in food, he could ground Harry when he didn’t follow the rules, and
orderliness was the strictest rule.
“Where do you
think you are going?”
“To my room,
Professor.”
Harry started to
turn, but Snape’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Draco is our guest. You
are not to go to bed until he does.”
“Well, then,
may I at least be excused?”
“You may.”
Harry narrowed his
green eyes, but said nothing else. Instead, he
sat down on the sofa and stared into the fire until he heard the sounds of dinner being
finished. Draco sat down in one of the chairs
opposite the sofa and stared back at Harry until the smaller boy sighed heavily and looked
over, “What?”
“You’re
bored.”
Harry fought not to
roll his eyes and instead turned back towards the fire.
“Of course I’m bored. All
my things are in my room.”
Draco raised an
eyebrow, “Care for a game of chess? I doubt you’re any good at it, and besides,
father taught me. I play against him once a
week at the least.”
Despite his
reservations Harry agreed. It wasn’t as
though he had anything better to do. Snape sat
at his desk, back to them as Draco set the board up. Harry
hadn’t played much, in fact, for the most part he’d watched others play it and
kept himself interested in the battles between pieces.
Not that he got to
play much this time either. In the entire hour
they sat in Snape’s drawing room he moved his pieces six times. The rest of the hour was spent listening to Draco
talk about his father and his manor and his house elves and all manner of things while he
pretended to be thinking about where to move his pieces.
“My father
bought me my own owl, but I didn’t bring it with me because father’s away on
business and by the time the owl reached him I’d probably be home anyway. Besides, mother said she’d break it in for me. She’s always sending letters to her friends;
sometimes she has six owls at a time out, which is why father bought me one of my own. That and I asked for one.”
“He also bought
me a broom, but I wasn’t allowed to bring it with me either. Snape says you aren’t allowed to have one yet,
so it wouldn’t be proper if I brought mine. Have
you ever even ridden a broom? It’s fabulous, really, there’s nothing like it.”
“I brought
games and such, because father said you weren’t likely to have much because you had
lived with Muggles who hated you and that Professor McGonagall didn’t believe in
frivolities; that the only thing she ever bought you were books and not many of those
either, because Hogwarts has an extensive library. Is
that true?”
Harry’s eye
twitched, he was getting very tired of listening to Draco’s voice and he hoped that
Draco would very soon get tired of talking. “Is
what true; that Hogwarts has an extensive library?”
Draco scoffed,
“Of course not, I’ve no doubt of the extent of the Hogwarts Library. Not that it’s the largest by any means, the
study at Malfoy Manor has a collection twice as large, I’m sure.” Harry noticed
Draco shifting his eyes back towards Snape, as though expecting him to say something, but
Snape didn’t turn around. “I meant
is it true that you lived with Muggles that hated you? That you have next to nothing to do
here?”
Harry looked down at
the board, wishing Draco would get on with it. “Yes.”
Draco shrugged and
reached down, moving his knight carelessly. “It’s
a good thing I brought so much then. I thought
perhaps I was over preparing, but I suppose not. I’d
likely have died of boredom otherwise. Can’t
imagine how you’ve survived so long.” Draco chuckled under his breath. “No wonder you’ve resorted to playing
hopscotch.”
Harry tensed, ready
to attack regardless of the fact that Snape was sitting just a few feet away from him;
unfortunately, it seemed Snape realised his intentions just in time, “Draco, that’s
enough. It’s time for bed.”
Draco shrugged and
began picking up the pieces, ignoring their disgruntled thrashings at having been stopped
mid-game. Harry had stood up to go to his room
when Snape stopped him, “Draco will be sharing your room.”
For a moment
everything was very quiet, even Draco stopped long enough to look perturbed at the idea. It was Harry, however, who took a deep breath and
stood straighter. “No.”
Snape turned from
his paperwork to stare dead on at Harry, who almost flinched at the glare being sent his
way. “You will do as I say. I will not have children sleeping on my couch and
impeding my morning routine.”
“No.”
Harry took a steadying breath, “I will not share a room with that stuck up little
sod.”
Draco’s mouth
fell open, trying to find words to express his rage. He
had never been called anything so... so rude. Snape,
however, seemed to have no trouble figuring out what to say.
He stood from his chair and walked over to Harry, who backed up only a step
before standing his ground and glaring back up at the Professor.
“You will not
use that kind of language in my presence, nor directed towards a guest.”
“It’s
true!”
Snape took another
step forward, so that he was practically standing on the small boy’s toes. “You will never repeat it again.”
Harry doubled his
glare efforts, hoping that it was even half as intimidating as he intended. “He’s a stuck. Up. Little.” Snape
was so angry that he stopped breathing and Harry had force himself to continue, “Sod.”
Harry had just
enough time to realise that perhaps he shouldn’t have done that before the back of
Snape’s hand connected with the side of his face.
-tbc-