"Right. Well, he knows I'm not my father," Harry defended Snape. "I mean, he's crystal clear on that." Finally, Harry thought, but didn't say.
"I was asking if the two of you had discussed Professor Snape's antipathy toward your father," she patiently explained.
"Oh. Yeah, we have. Several times. He says that--"
"I don't need to know what he said," the casewitch interrupted. "I would like to know if you are comfortable with it."
"Yes, absolutely," Harry answered, looking her in the eye. "And I understand you don't need to know what he said, but I want to tell you this. I grew up being told that my father was an unemployed drunkard who got himself and his wife killed in a car crash."
Despite her professional demeanor, that tidbit had the casewitch gasping.
"Yeah," Harry acknowledged. "Terrible slander. But I believed it, had no way of knowing differently until Rubeus Hagrid--he's a teacher here, now--collected me so I could attend school. Anyway, though, animosity or no, when Professor Snape found out I'd been told those things about James Potter, he cared enough about me to speak to me in detail about what my father accomplished before he died. And if that doesn't say he'd be a decent parent for me, I don't know what would."
Another rather distant-looking nod. "Has Professor Snape discussed discipline with you?"
"Well, he's a very disciplined person," Harry had to admit. "I'm sure he'd try to raise me to be... oh, you mean as in punishment, huh? Oh yeah, we've discussed that."
"This time I do need to know what was discussed," she gently asserted.
"Well, first we talked about rules and decided we'd have to negotiate some we could both live with, you know, 'cause I'm sixteen and not six, as he put it. Then he said that sometimes he'd have to have the final say on matters, and if I disobeyed him he'd give me detentions or extra assignments, that sort of thing."
She cracked a slight smile. "Very teacherish consequences."
Harry smiled, too.
"Is there anything you'd like to ask me, then?" she said, an air of finality hanging over the words.
"When can the adoption be made official?"
"Ah. Well, as you said, it's a rare day when you are treated just as anyone else would be. We've fast-tracked your application as we understand that having Professor Snape as your father will be very useful in preparing certain defenses which you urgently need. Therefore, pending my approval--"
"You don't yet approve?" Harry gasped, gripping the arms of his chair.
"I do," she gently put in, and he practically slumped with relief. "There are a few more procedures to get through before I can sign off, however. I will need to speak with Mr. Malfoy. He may be emancipated, but he's de facto part of the family dynamic, here. Then I would like to interview you and the professor together, after which the final papers can be prepared for signature. Wizard Family Services will need to emboss the contracts with their seal of approval, of course, and--"
Harry began thinking he might be twenty before all that got done. His despondency must have shown on his face, for she said, "Tomorrow, Mr. Potter. With any luck, you'll be his son by tomorrow."
Son... The word still gave him a funny feeling, one he wasn't sure he liked, but after the dream about his parents, it wasn't as frightening as before.
"That is fast," Harry admitted. "Thanks."
"I'll see Mr. Malfoy now," she said. "If it's not too much trouble, I'd appreciate that cup of tea?"
"Oh, certainly," Harry said, opening the door. "I'll get it for you and send Draco in."
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"Help me get her some tea," Harry said to Snape as he emerged into the living room. "She wants to talk to Draco, now."
"He's in your bedroom," Snape murmured, moving toward the Floo. "You do realize I'll have to completely respell my office wards after all this?"
Draco had a book open and was writing something when Harry walked in. The book definitely looked to be Herbology, but it wasn't their regular text. At any rate, the moment he noticed Harry, he slammed it closed and hid his parchment behind his back. What sort of essay was all that secret?
Pushing the question aside, Harry explained that the casewitch wanted to see Draco.
"I still don't see what I have to say about any of it," the blond boy muttered as he rose from where he'd been sitting on his bed. As though it was second nature to him, he flicked his wand and murmured a straightening spell to the bedcovers, then pulled his curtains closed and said darkly to Harry, "Don't go looking in there."
"I wouldn't," Harry stressed, not sure whether to laugh at the idea or get offended.
"I mean it."
"If I say I won't, then I won't!"
Draco gave him a close look. "Yeah, probably you won't. Gryffindor."
"Why are you so... testy?" Harry thought to ask. Although, maybe Draco wasn't any different from usual; maybe, it was just that Harry was more relaxed than he'd been in ages. That nice dream had restored something, something he'd really needed.
Draco ran a hand through his hair, mussing it. Not like him at all, Harry thought, giving up on the it's-just-me theory. "Come on," he prompted. "What's wrong?"
"Her," Draco all but snarled. "What am I supposed to say to her? What if I fuck this whole thing up? Severus will never forgive me! And you..." His sneer faded to pure distress. "You seemed iffy at first, but now I think you really want to be adopted, which means you'll never trust me if I blow this for you!" His voice dropping to an undertone, he muttered, "Though why that should bother me when you don't trust me anyway is a good question."
"Look, I said I didn't know anymore, didn't I? You hated me for five years, Draco. And it's only been a little more than five weeks since Samhain. I can't just trade one for the other, you know."
"Yeah, I know," the other boy glumly admitted. "So, her. What do you want me to say?"
Harry stared at him. "Uh, well, I don't know what she's going to ask. But... well, I just wouldn't go into any ancient history, you know. Not mine and Snape's, or mine and yours, either."
"Ancient being anytime prior to this past October." Draco nodded. "Very well, I'll do my Slytherin best."
Harry didn't know what that meant, but strangely enough, he was sure that Draco had meant it in a good way.
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It seemed to Harry that Draco was in there forever. Maybe that had something to do with the mood out in the living room. Snape might have invited Remus here to help out Harry, but he definitely hadn't forgiven the man for his unwitting role in Harry's abduction. About all that kept the atmosphere civil was Dudley's presence. Harry's cousin was sitting at the dining room table, idly doodling on a parchment Draco had spelled to produce animations of anything drawn on it. Dudley laughed uproariously and couldn't get enough of it, even though his artistic talents didn't stretch much beyond stick figures.
Well, they were lively stick figures, now.
Harry tried in vain to remember a time when the wizarding world had seemed so harmlessly magical to him, too.
Snape, meanwhile, was sitting with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. He hadn't asked anything about Harry's own interview, which Harry found rather surprising. Remus kept trying to engage him in conversation, but Snape was a taciturn as Draco had been earlier.
Slytherins, Harry thought, shaking his head.
"So, what did she ask you?" Harry tried drawing Snape out a bit.
He got a glare for his trouble. So much for that line of inquiry.
"Do you know what Draco's Herbology project is?" Harry gave it another stab. "He seemed really intent on it, earlier."