Now Harry was really embarrassed, but since he didn't want to lie to his friends, he admitted, "Um, we just started this morning but yeah, I think it is, actually. He knows a lot, and he's been sort of helpful."
Ron snorted. "He'll probably teach you everything all backwards just to mess you up."
"I'm using the same textbooks as you, Ron," Harry drawled.
"Why can't Hermione tutor you?" Ron shot back. "She gets way better marks than Malfoy."
"Maybe because Hermione has to be in class all day, and Draco and I are stuck down here together, anyway? We might as well use the time for something."
Ron hung his head in his hands. "I can tell where this is going. Pretty soon it's going to be Draco's not that bad," he mimicked Harry's voice.
"No, Draco is that bad," Harry assured his friend. "I just haven't figured out quite what he thinks to gain from pretending to turn on Voldemort."
A crashing noise ensued from the bedroom Draco and Harry shared.
"Well, that certainly answers the question of whether he's listening," Harry announced, deliberately raising his voice. "I guess he doesn't know that perfect manners don't usually include eavesdropping."
"Isn't it awfully strange he'd give the game away like that, though?" Hermione wondered, her own tones still pitched low.
Harry laughed. "I have it on good authority he has a problem with impulse control, so I'd say it's par for the course."
"Par for the course?" Ron queried.
"Muggle expression," Harry answered, and he and Hermione both laughed. "Means it's typical."
"It's a bit of a worry, you thinking you know what's typical for Malfoy," Ron pointed out.
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "But just to warn you, it'll probably get even worse. We're rooming together down here."
"Poor Harry," Hermione sympathized, reaching out to pat his hands. Halfway there, though, she reconsidered and pulled her own back. "Um, Harry? Are you getting better?"
"I see better every day, but my vision still fades off after a while."
"No, I meant, er... are you less jumpy?"
"No, I think Draco lurking around makes me more so," Harry answered, and listened for another crash. That time there wasn't one. "But I feel really comfortable around Snape, so that sort of balances things out."
"Comfortable around Snape," Ron groaned.
"Yes." Harry dug around in his pocket and pulled out the letter he'd dictated but never sent. Afraid that Draco might steal it and show it to Snape, he'd been keeping it on him practically every second. "I need you to read this, Hermione, okay? Out loud, but in the quietest voice you can manage."
She did, and it was written out exactly as he'd said it, right down to the last insult.
"Wow," Ron breathed when it was over. "I take it back, Harry. That's some letter."
"Yeah," Harry answered, somehow feeling less than proud about the whole incident, now. He saw Hermione looking at it curiously, and knew she'd recognized the writing, but she didn't comment. "Um, I can't send it, though, it'd hurt Dudley too much, so I was hoping one of you would Incendio it for me."
"Oh. Still having trouble with the old wand," Ron commiserated. "I'm sorry. Here, I'll do it." He took the letter and set it in the hearth, then set it ablaze.
Hermione was frowning. "I've just realized how hard it must be for you in here without magic. I didn't think about it before, probably because you're Muggle raised like me; you know how to light a fire with matches. But Professor Snape wouldn't have any matches."
"Or light switches," Harry agreed. "It's sort of tough. I found out this morning I can't even order from the kitchens unless somebody else tosses the Floo powder in. It won't work for me, though the house-elves can hear me well enough once a wizard establishes the connection."
"Oh, Harry. You're a wizard."
"Well, working on it," Harry only said as Ron came back, wiping his slightly sooty hands. "So, um... this'll probably strike you as very weird, but do you want me to ask Snape if you can stay down here and eat with us? He'll probably say it's all right. I mean, after he's done trying to scare you off. That part's probably not optional."
"Uh no, no thanks, Harry," Ron quickly said. "Is he due back soon? Because, no offense, but today in class he gave me another detention with Filch, and I just can't take seeing him."
"We really do need to be going," Hermione added, a bit more diplomatically. "Okay, Harry? We'll come back again soon."
Harry saw them to the door, but of course he couldn't even open it. Hermione tried three spells, but then she found the one that worked. After they were gone, Harry fell onto the couch and lay full length, a sinking feeling in his heart. He had a feeling that his idea of soon and theirs were bound to be different.
"Gone so soon?" Draco came out and jibed in the next moment, almost as if he'd read Harry's mind.
"Shut up," Harry said, and turned on his side to face away from Draco.
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Their days fell roughly into a pattern. Breakfast with Snape, lessons all day interrupted only by lunch, which the two boys usually took alone, then dinner, which was often, though not always eaten with the Professor. Evenings were usually occupied by Snape grading papers while he listened to Draco quizzing Harry on the day's lessons. Snape would occasionally interrupt to ask Draco about his own progress with his studies, or to question his progress with Slytherin House. Harry didn't understand all of those conversations; he remembered that Draco had been told no more intrigues were wanted, but it sounded to him that the letters Draco were owling out all the time were nothing but. And yet Snape seemed to approve. It was all beyond Harry.
Too Slytherin.
Harry was getting caught up in all his subjects, at least when it came to the theory he'd missed, but he continued to be frustrated by his efforts to actually invoke any magic.
Draco had seemed to have roughly the same idea as Remus on how to proceed. "Let's have you do some practical magic today," he suggested after a few days of sticking strictly to book work. "How about starting with Lumos? That shouldn't put too much strain on... well, whatever is going on inside you."
Harry didn't want to, didn't even want to pick up his wand again in Draco's presence, but he wasn't going to get his magic back without trying, was he? Besides, they'd studied Transfiguration for hours that morning and Harry was really ready for a change from thinking about Protoplasmotic qualities. Even a depressing change.
He fished his wand out of his pocket, held it loosely in his fist, and muttered, "Lumos."
Nothing. Well, of course. Harry was pretty well used to that by then.
Draco frowned. "You know, Harry, it's not just the Unforgivables you have to mean. That was pretty feeble incanting. Did you even want any light?"
"No," Harry admitted. "Why would I? Snape keeps this place pretty brightly lit for a dungeon."
"Enough said," Draco drawled, pulling out his own wand and arcing it about the room incanting Finite along with some other spells. One by one the walls dimmed and then went out, until they were plunged into complete darkness. This wasn't the not-quite-black of Harry's periodic blind spells, but rather a blacker-than-black that was so engulfing it absolutely unnerved him.
"That's not funny," Harry complained. "Spell the lights back on!"
"It's not supposed to be funny. You spell a light on."
Harry sighed. "Lumos. See? Nothing!"
"You don't want it, yet," Draco's voice came from closer alongside him. Harry couldn't help but shiver. Draco Malfoy, armed with a wand, sneaking up on him in the dark... not a scenario Harry was likely to appreciate. "You're still focusing on being angry that I made it dark, instead of pouring your will into getting yourself out of it."