"Give him a chance to settle in, why don't you, Harry?" Draco suggested, the sneer back in his voice, but only in a muted way. It vanished when he addressed Dudley. "You've had a long journey. Did you enjoy the train?"
"Yeah, how did you get onto the platform?" Harry wanted to know.
"Mr. Lupin took me through," Dudley said, shivering a bit. "I was standing on the platform, the regular one, at King's Cross, and he took my arm and said to close my eyes--have you ever noticed what a soothing, kind voice he has?--and then he said it wouldn't hurt but I might feel a bit sick, and then it felt like I was melting or something. And when I opened my eyes I was on a different platform."
"I don't like Apparating either," Harry commiserated. "Makes me sick to my stomach."
"Mr. Lupin," Draco mused, his voice thrumming with contemplation. "You said he was with Harry at the hospital?"
"Yeah, but you know, he didn't seem as nice that time."
"I would imagine not," Draco returned, looking straight at Harry. "He probably didn't seem the same at all. I'd say, he wasn't even himself."
Harry shrugged. Trust Draco to figure a few things out. It was probably inevitable. "So, Mr. Lupin put you on the train, but didn't come himself?" Harry pressed.
"He said he couldn't," Dudley said. "He said it was almost time for his monthly retreat, and he couldn't miss it, and you would understand."
Giving up on handing Dudley his water, Harry set it down and began drinking his own.
"So, tell us about the train," Draco prompted.
"You've both been on it," Dudley remarked, looking from one to the other. "Harry, I... I need to ask you something." His large eyes began to swim with tears. "Um, this is really hard. I... I know you didn't have it so easy, growing up, and you wouldn't be normal if you didn't have some awfully hard feelings about it all, b- b- but when Mum was buried, you came. I thought I'd see you at Dad's, too. Not for him... for me."
Harry clenched his hands together. Some part of his mind registered that in the middle of Dudley's speech, Draco had quietly exited the room, leaving them to hash out family business alone. "I'm sorry. I... I would have. I couldn't."
Dudley's quietly challenging gaze made Harry realize he'd have to say more. "It's complicated," he began. "The evil wizards who destroyed your house--"
Dudley made a choking noise.
"Sorry," Harry rushed to say. "I... I don't know if I should tell you. What happened to me is all tied in with what happened to you. Is it better not to think about it?"
"Yeah," Dudley admitted. "No, that's not true. It's just easier. I know Marsha would tell me that it's better to face it down. You.... oh, just go on." Forgetting perhaps how the water had arrived on the table, Dudley grabbed his glass then, and began to steadily nurse it as he listened.
Harry didn't tell him everything, just what he thought would make sense to someone like Dudley. The evil wizard who had tried to kill him when he was a baby had tried again. Harry had been injured. Blinded, in fact, and almost comatose for over a week, but all that was getting much better. Professor Snape had rescued him and taken care of him, and Harry had to live with him now because the evil wizard just didn't know when to quit. Harry was still in danger, but he'd be in less danger if Dudley would help the professor with some protection spells.
"Oh, yeah, Mr. Lupin mentioned those, too," Dudley remembered. Then he said with a strange expression, "I thought my things would be here by now. I didn't pack much. I don't have much, just a few things Mrs. Figg bought me."
"Uh, I sort of thought you might go live with Aunt Marge," Harry remarked, grimacing.
"Marsha thought I'd better not, not if I wanted to get on better with you."
Hmm, Mrs. Figg had probably told the therapist about the exploding-aunt incident, Harry figured. Aunt Marge had been obliviated, of course, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that she was probably just as wizard-averse as her brother. "Well, you're seventeen, I suppose you can do as you like, even get a job and all that, right? Have you thought of what you'd like to do?"
"No idea," Dudley admitted.
"Well, you have time to think it over."
"Do I?" Dudley finished his water and began to suck on the wedge of lime. Harry was profoundly grateful then that Draco had left. The other boy would probably have made a gagging noise, then faked another coughing fit to cover it. "I can't stay with Mrs. Figg forever."
"No, but you'll figure it out," Harry assured him.
"I suppose. Um, do you know how much longer until they bring my things? Your headmaster said to leave them on the platform and they'd be brought up straight away."
"I'm sure they're in the bedroom already. The house-elves--those are creatures like the one you saw talk to us through the fire--don't tend to fetch and carry so much as pop things in and out of rooms directly."
"Oh, like the drinks," Dudley murmured, nodding. Harry thought he looked slightly more at ease. "Okay. Can we go see? Because Mr. Lupin sent you something, and he told me to make sure you got it as soon as possible."
The door was closed, so Harry knocked and Draco called for them to come in. He was propped up on his bed, reading a seventh-year Transfiguration text. When he closed it, it transfigured itself into a small stone. Dudley stared, his own belongings forgotten, and Draco shrugged. "Some stupid writer decided to make the students practice their wandwork every time they want to crack the book to study," he explained, a mock grimace on his face.
"You... you can change it back?" Dudley gasped.
"Sure," Draco easily replied. "Watch. Libris veni." A swirl and a tap of his wand, and the book appeared once more.
"Wow," Dudley said, the sound layered with less fear and more admiration. Harry figured he really was getting used to magic. "Can you do anything?"
"Sure," Draco quipped, his neutral expression beginning to crack a little. A hint of smile. Well, that figured. Draco Malfoy liked showing off, and you could hardly ask for an audience easier to astonish. "Well, within limits."
"So, this must be your stuff," Harry said with a warning glance at Draco. "Um, why don't you get settled in, unpack whatever you want. You can have my bed, Dudley. I thought I'd sleep on the couch."
"No, no," Draco interrupted. "That won't do. I'm sure you have all sorts of cousinly things to discuss. What better time than the dead of night? Anyway, Severus and I decided already that I'll take the couch."
"When did you and Severus discuss this?" Harry questioned, his brows drawn.
"Oh, you'd be surprised what we get to talking about over a Potion or two," Draco let out.
"And you're okay with that? Draco Malfoy, sleeping on a couch? What kind of bribe did that take?"
"Well, it's not going to be a couch for long," Draco sneered. "Dudley here can see something a bit more impressive than stone to book, if he cares to watch. And it didn't take a bribe at all, Potter! I don't suppose it crossed your mind that I might be capable of an ounce of consideration for someone else? Of course it didn't! I'm a Slytherin!"
"Slytherin's nothing to do with it," Harry retorted. "I happen to like one certain Slytherin, don't forget!"
"Yeah, like I could, when just like a Gryffindor, you practically ooze with it!"
"Who's Severus?" Dudley broke in.
Harry took a deep breath. "Um, that's the professor's first name."
Dudley's brow furrowed. "Why don't you call him that, if Draco does?"
"Well, because he's my teacher," Harry explained. "I don't know. The other seems a liberty. Inappropriate."
"He's my teacher, too," Draco smirked. "But he's also my friend."
"He's not your friend, too?" Dudley questioned.
"Oh, he is... um, maybe you'll understand when you meet him," Harry muttered, frustrated. "I just can't imagine calling him Severus to his face."