After All TBGC

Updated:  March 12, 2005

Summer I / Part D:

Harry hadn’t thought he liked Draco when he’d first heard that he was coming and he’d decided he was right when Draco had kicked him in the back of his legs.  His opinion hadn’t changed much in the past week; if anything it had been lowered.  First, by the way that Draco refused to talk or think about anything other than himself or, worse yet, his father, and then by the way he was currently smiling while Snape yelled at him for getting back to the castle late.

It wasn’t all Harry’s fault.  He didn’t have a watch or anything, and besides, it wasn’t as if Harry had been the one begging to be let out (he might have, given the chance, but that wasn’t the point), Draco had.  Why wasn’t it Draco’s responsibility to watch the time? Of course, Harry should have known it was getting late, but he’d been so happy to see Hagrid again that he’d eaten the rock hard treacle fudge and hadn’t bothered to think about the time at all.

So, when they’d gotten back and the sun was already sinking behind the mountains, it wasn’t much of a surprise that Snape was furious.

"I said one hour."

Harry clenched his fists at his side and gritted his teeth, looking at the floor determinedly.

"What could have possibly been so interesting that you mistook one hour for four?"

Draco spoke up from the sofa, where he had seated himself for the best view of the impending argument that he could get.  "He was speaking with the big oaf, Hagrid."

Snape continued to stare at Harry as though Draco hadn’t said anything.  "At this time, I am your guardian, not the groundskeeper.  If I order you to be back in an hour, you are to be back in an hour."

Harry couldn’t help the retort from slipping past his lips, "You didn’t order me to do anything." Thankfully, he hadn’t said it very loudly.

Snape grabbed his chin firmly and forced him to look up.  "What was that?"

The piercing black eyes dared him to say it again and Harry was again vividly reminded of his Uncle on his more turbulent days.  "Nothing."

The hand tightened for a moment before letting go and pointing to the door to Harry’s room.  "Go."

Harry didn’t need to be told twice.  He turned on his heals and marched into his room, slamming the door shut in his wake.

____________________

"Wake up."

Harry rolled over, waving a hand half-heartedly behind him to get Dudley to leave him alone.  "Wake up, Potter, I’m hungry."

Harry pulled the blanket over his head.  "Go make your own breakfast, you great tub of lard." He felt the instant pull of satisfaction and regret; satisfaction, because Harry was rarely indulgent enough to say what he actually thought about any of his relatives and regret, because Uncle Vernon would not be pleased.

"What are you on about, Potter? I am neither obese, nor do I intend to make my own anything.  Now get up before I tell Snape you’ve been calling me names again."

Snape?

Harry sat up and opened his eyes, surveying his room.  He wasn’t at the Dursleys’, he was at Hogwarts.   Relief washed over him and he lay back down.   It wasn’t that nightmares about living with the Dursleys again didn’t happen often enough, but they were rarely two nights in a row anymore, and rarely so vivid that he forgot where he was.

His relief, however, was short lived, as Draco seemed to be getting annoyed.  "Well, are you getting up or not?"

Harry resisted to urge to stick his tongue out childishly and instead got out of the bed, yelping at the cold on his feet as he ran through the bedroom and across the living area into the bathing room.  His clothes had already been laid out next to the sink by the over enthusiastic house elves, who made it their business to be several steps ahead of his morning routine.

When he emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, freshly washed and clothed, Draco was sitting at the table alone, looking very perturbed.  "I woke you up so that I could eat, not so that you could spend a half hour..." he faltered for a moment, digging for what his father had often said when his mother took too long getting dressed for an evening affair, "making yourself pretty."

Harry stopped; half seated and stared openly at Draco.  "I was not ‘making myself pretty,’ I was having a shower!"

Instead of answering, Draco grabbed a biscuit and began spreading marmalade on it.  After a moment of silence, Harry sat down, shoving eggs in his mouth obstinately.  Of all the nerve! He wasn’t allowed to eat breakfast before he’d taken his shower.

Snape didn’t come in until after they had already finished and the table had been taken away.  Harry and Draco were sat down on the couch, Draco rambling on about how bored he was and what exactly he would be doing if he were at home, and Harry not even bothering to pretend he was listening while he pulled a stray piece of string off the couch and rolled it between his fingers.

Looking at them from the doorway, Snape was struck by how very different the two were in that moment.  Draco, with his perfectly kempt robs laying about him as he sat with his feet on the floor, his platinum blond hair brushed and gelled, with every strand in place, his bright, intelligent grey-blue eyes, and his voice clear and precise, pronouncing every word as he had no doubt been instructed to do; Harry, his too-short, already wrinkled robes of faded black with a spot of food on the front, his feet on his sofa as he sat crossed legged, his hair wild and in every direction, even when still damp, and his eyes glazed over as he found interest in a piece of string.

How Dumbledore had ever expected the two to get along, Snape had no idea but it did seem that the old fool had a tendency to get what he wanted.  Draco looked over at Harry, turning his nose up annoyedly as he realised the other boy wasn’t listening.  Perhaps in this thing, whatever it was, Dumbledore would be proven wrong, and wouldn’t that be something.

"Potter!"

Harry’s head shot up to meet Snape’s gaze and his face whitened ever so slightly.  "Yes, sir?"

"I thought I had made it perfectly clear that you were grounded."

He opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly.  "Yes, sir."

Harry got up to go to his room and Snape caught the crestfallen look on his nephew’s face.  Draco, who was an only child, was used to entertaining himself, but this was not his home and perhaps he was feeling more out of place than Snape had noticed... or perhaps Dumbledore was right, after all.

"Stop." Harry halted feet from his door and turned to look at Snape expectantly, who pointed at the door to the hall behind him, "Get out of my sight and I’ll not expect you back till supper.  I have work to do."

Draco beamed, but Harry looked perplexed, then annoyed.  Getting up from the sofa, Draco took Harry’s arm, ignoring the roll of the other boy’s eyes as he dragged him out into the hall.  "Come on, I want to go talk to the portrait again, the one that was insulting me.  I’ve thought of something else to say to it."

Perhaps Dumbledore was wrong, Snape even hoped, but as Draco dragged a silently protesting Harry out the door and down the hall, he sadly doubted it.  Dumbledore was rarely wrong.

____________________

Another week.  Harry stood against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.  He had another week to go before he would be free of… of this.  Draco had spent the last half hour goading Sir Cadogan.

"Draco, this is boring."

Draco didn’t even bother to turn and look at Harry.  "I’m not."

Rolling his eyes, Harry sighed heavily.  "Can we do something else?" When Draco didn’t immediately answer, Harry bit down on his lip and then his pride.  "Anything else?"

Sliding his eyes over, Draco eyed Harry for a moment, as if weighing his options, before turning fully around and facing the other boy.  "Like what?"

"I don’t know."

"Well, how do you expect to tempt me into doing something else if you can’t even suggest what that something else might be?"

Harry bit his tongue, literally.  What he wanted more than anything else was to tell Draco to bugger off, but he didn’t think that it would be very long before Snape heard of it and he also didn’t think that he was up for another round of angry Professor at the moment.  "I did say anything."

Finally, Draco seemed to take heart and shrugged.  "All right, let’s go play chess."

"But..."

"But what? You said anything, I’m your guest, and if you’re bored watching me insult this worthless piece of canvas..."

"You cur!"

"...then the least you can do is let me humiliate you."

On second thought, Malfoy, Harry decided, didn’t have a heart.

____________________

Harry hissed under his breath as Draco stepped on his foot.  "Stop it."

Moments later Draco did it again, once again hitting Harry on the top of his foot with the heel of his shoe.  In retaliation, Harry kicked him in the shin, only to be glared at by Snape when Draco exclaimed loudly.  "Potter, please refrain yourself.  I’m sure if you concentrate hard enough you can find it in yourself to stand still for five minutes."

As much as Harry wanted to scream that he hadn’t started it, he doubted that would make a difference, so he went back to watching the path that lead to the front gate instead.  Draco’s father was supposed to arriving at any moment to pick Draco up and Snape had insisted that Harry come to see him off.  Harry hadn’t really cared, Professor McGonagall was arriving that evening and he’d be allowed to return to his room in the tower, away from Snape.

After having listened to Draco go on and on about his father, Harry expected a grand entrance of sorts.  He wasn’t entirely disappointed.  The carriage that finally peaked over the hill was certainly grand, overly so.  It was large, painted black with white trim and had designs embedded in silver on the door.  The horses that drew it were as white as the carriage was black, with long, shimmering white mains, guided by a well dressed attendant.

The horses came to a stop in front of the school entrance and Harry found himself feeling unnecessarily apprehensive about meeting Mr. Malfoy, especially when he realised that he wasn’t wearing his best robes and, even if he had, they had become too short over the summer.

The carriage door opened after a brief pause and Lucius Malfoy stepped out.  Had Harry not been introduced, he could never have mistaken Mr. Malfoy for anyone other than Draco’s father.  His hair, while longer than Draco’s and pulled back in a loose ponytail, was still the same platinum blonde; his eyes were the same blue-grey, though more piercing; his robes more intricately designed, but of the same flowing, silken material; he even stared down at Harry in a way that Draco had more than once, although his expression was more inscrutable than his son’s.

Harry jumped slightly as Snape suddenly put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to step forward.  "Good afternoon, Lucius, allow me to introduce Harry Potter." His voice absolutely dripped with contempt and Harry fought the urge to say that Snape needn’t have bothered because he’d rather not have been introduced in the first place.

Lucius, however, raised an eyebrow, his eyes showing the barest interest as he looked Harry over.  "Mr. Potter." It wasn’t a question, but Harry nodded, anyway.  "I do hope my son was pleasant enough company." That wasn’t a question either, but Harry nodded again, just to be safe.

He wasn’t sure what it was about Mr. Malfoy that made him feel uneasy, but he knew that his instincts on such things were rarely wrong.  Two years ago he’d met a boy in school that made him feel that way, but he’d ignored it because the boy talked to him and not many people actually talked to Harry.  Late that same day, he’d cornered him with Dudley and they’d beaten him up.

Mr. Malfoy nodded back then looked at Snape, a smile weighing just heavy enough on his face.  "Severus."

Snape tilted his head, not quite a nod, but Harry supposed it was meant to be cordial.  Not that Harry really understood what cordial was, but he assumed it was something bordering polite.  "I trust you’ve been well, Lucius."

"As well as can be expected.  Narcissa sends her best."

"As do I."

Harry found it disconcerting to be standing between two men, both of whom towered over him, while they passed niceties back and forth.  He flicked his eyes and head back and forth, trying to watch the exchange, afraid that he would miss something.  Draco, however, didn’t seem to have the same trouble.  Harry saw him standing straight, head held high, looking perfectly at ease being treated as if he weren’t there.

It went very quiet and a feeling like ice water washed over Harry and he looked up to see Mr. Malfoy watching him, his face tilted just far enough to allow his eyes to slide downward.  "Perhaps next summer, young mister Potter would care to stay at Malfoy Manor."

Damn, he must have missed something.

Lucius swung around and walked briskly towards his carriage.  "Come, Draco."

Without looking back, Draco marched after his father stiffly.   He got in and Lucius stepped in after him, pausing long enough to say, "Severus, do call at the manor sometime soon, I’ve some things I’d like to discuss with you," before shutting the door and tapped the roof with the cane he’d been carrying.

Harry couldn’t put his unease into words, but there was something about the exchange that bothered him, something…

"Harry?"

The door to the castle opened and McGonagall stepped out, the beginnings of worry etched into her face.  Harry grinned broadly, all thoughts of Draco Malfoy and his father pushed from his head, and rushed to meet her.

Relief washed over her face as he ran to her and threw his arms around her in a hug.  Minerva hadn’t realised exactly how much she had missed him until she’d returned and been unable to find him.  She’d gone to unpack and then went to the dungeons, but couldn’t get an answer when she knocked.   He hadn’t been in the Gryffindor common room, nor the kitchens and she hadn’t been able to find Severus, either.

It was irrational, Hogwarts was the safest place for the boy, but she couldn’t help the fear that wormed it’s way into her otherwise reasonable mind and she’d set out looking for him.  Squeezing the boy just a little tighter, she looked around and noticed Severus standing a few feet away from them, glaring openly at the scene.

Letting Harry go, she patting his shoulder and took his hand before turning her attention to her fellow Professor.  "Good afternoon, Severus."

"Minerva." He was always in such a fowl temper, perhaps Dumbledore was right and the man simply needed to find himself suitable companionship, but Minerva often thought there was more to it than that.

"How was your holiday?"

He scowled at Harry and Minerva fought the urge to lecture him on taking things out on Harry that weren’t his fault.  It wouldn’t do to lecture a Professor in front of Harry and she didn’t want to undermine the boy’s respect for one of his elders - she caught Harry scowling back – however minimal that respect might be.

Severus crossed his arms over his chest and raised his gaze to meet Minerva’s again.  "My holiday was not nearly as much of one as some.  Now that you are here, however, I believe I shall go and enjoy some peace and quiet."

He turned around to leave and Minerva sighed.  He really was just disagreeable by nature sometimes.  When she and Harry were once again alone on the steps she looked down at Harry and noticed for the first time that the cuffs of his robes rode just above his ankles.

"Harry, have you grown?"

His sullen scowl instantly became a heart warming grin.  "Some."

She hadn’t remembered his voice being so small.  "We’ll have to get you some new clothes then, perhaps tomorrow.   But first, tell me about your summer."

He instantly clammed up, dropping his eyes to his feet and frowning slightly.  "It was alright."

That was nothing like her Harry, who was all talk and smiles and hid nothing.  Her Harry who had so boldly proclaimed that the house elves needn’t cook bacon for him because he could do it himself and he didn’t mind getting burned by the grease because the Dursleys had made him do it all the time and he’d gotten used to it.  Once he’d opened up, no topic seemed to be off limits.

She tilted his chin up, but what she saw in his eyes told her it wasn’t going to do any good to push him at the moment.  It was the same look he’d given them the first few weeks he’d been there, that stubborn quiet.  Ah, well, she’d try again later.

"I brought you a present."

And he was all smiles again, as if he’d never stopped.  She really had missed him.

-tbc-

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