"What?" Beyond shocked, Harry almost spewed his butterbeer.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Draco erupted, savagely yanking the cap off his own bottle. "What kind of reference did you use, a book on Victorian flower language? We're all wizards here, in case you hadn't noticed. Leeks mean luck, not housework! And secret love, would you be serious! It's healing, all right? Gardenias represent healing!"
With that, he flopped into a chair and gave Hermione a truly fearsome glare.
"Sor-eeeee," she drawled, clearly not meaning it. "And for your information, flower language derives a lot of its meanings from the spell properties of various herbals, due to the increasing incidence in the Victorian age of wizards courting Muggles."
"Aren't you just a compendium of facts and figures," scathed Draco. "Next time Harry asks you to do his research," he transferred his glare to Harry, then back to Hermione, "you might consider actually getting it right!"
"Did she get the thyme, huckleberries, and pine needles right, though?" questioned Harry.
"Yes," Draco admitted, closing his eyes as though he was sick of the lot of them.
Ron, who had been observing silently, finally spoke. "Why don't you just tell us who's having a baby," he suggested. "I mean, that is a well-wish sitting there on the table, isn't it? You put it together and you want to make sure you did it right, Harry?"
Should have remembered that Ron would know all about the well-wishing ceremony, Harry realized. But he didn't often think of Ron as a pureblood, though of course he was one. To Harry, pureblood meant snooty and stuck-up about it, and Ron was anything but that.
Hermione wanted to know what he was talking about, so Ron took a minute to explain.
"Oh, all right," she nodded. "So who's the well-wish for, Harry?"
"Uh, let's just finish the list of plants," Harry said, feeling rather desperate. He wanted to tell them, but he didn't know how. Somehow, he'd never figured he'd have to tell them with Draco sitting right there, but he didn't feel right telling the Slytherin boy to get out, so where did that leave him? "Tea," he gasped. "What does tea mean?"
"I couldn't find any other answers, Harry," Hermione murmured.
Draco smirked a bit, no doubt thinking that Harry would still have to hit the books, but his grin faded when Ron chimed in, "Oh, that's a common one. Although I've never seen tea leaves fill the vase--a potions vial? now that's weird--like in that well-wish there. Anyway though, tea would be more courage, and also strength."
"And woodruff?"
"Well, it's a little bit crass, isn't it, but basically woodruff is a wish for money."
"Money!"
"Victory," Draco coolly corrected. "Well, actually it's used to represent both, but in this case it means victory." He looked down his nose at Ron. "Incidentally, it's only ever poor wizards who think that having money is crass."
Ron clenched his fists, his body tautening, but he managed to let the comment pass.
"So who's having a baby?" Hermione pressed. "You didn't say."
"Um, nobody, actually," Harry admitted. "I'll get back to the well-wish in a minute. First, though... you remember how I couldn't see you the day before yesterday?"
"Yeah, too busy to see us," Ron groused. "Not that I believed it, Harry. But Padma found out that unless this Slytherin here actually said 'come in,' or something, we couldn't! Which left Malfoy free to say whatever!"
Draco gave Harry a questioning look, the exact content clear as day to Harry's eyes. Well, here we go, it said. He's wrong about me and you know it. Not that I care what he thinks, but it should be interesting to see where you stand. With your Gryffindor friend even when he's being rude and stupid? Or will you defend a fellow Slytherin?
Funny how Draco could convey so very much with those silver eyes of his.
"Actually, I was too busy to see you," Harry admitted with a sheepish look. "Sorry, but it's true. See, I was in a conference with a casewitch from Wizard Family Services."
"Wizard Family Services?" Hermione questioned.
"Oh yeah, they'd want to place you with somebody," Ron realized. Harry noticed he didn't bother apologizing to Draco, even after he knew he'd been wrong. On the other hand, Draco had been pretty rude the other day; Harry knew that much from Dudley. "I didn't think of it before, but your aunt and uncle dying would mean you don't have a guardian. Didn't you think of asking my Mum and Dad, Harry?"
"I'm too hazardous. You don't want Voldemort dropping by the Burrow for Christmas."
"There is that..."
"But they put you in a foster family, is that it?" Hermione tried to understand. "Does it work like in the Muggle world?"
"Er, I don't think so," Harry admitted. "I mean, I don't know how it works in the Muggle world. I don't think Dumbledore went through Wizard Family Services for me; he just left me in a basket on the Dursley's stoop. Now, though, I guess you might say I've been... er, placed."
"Placed where, mate?" Ron wanted to know.
"Uh, here, actually."
"Here, Hogwarts?"
Harry shook his head, braced himself for an explosion, and quietly said, "Here, Snape's quarters."
Ron paused in the middle of a swig of butterbeer. "Come again?"
Hermione's mouth dropped open, but she was still more lucid than Ron. "Here, Harry? I know Snape said you could live here until things are safer for you, but you mean he's your foster father as well, now?"
"Er, no, not exactly."
"Well, what exactly is he?" Hermione asked, her voice strident.
"Um, well..." Harry took a deep breath, then another.
Then another.
Then he cleared his throat.
"Oh for the love of Merlin, just tell them!" Draco finally shouted.
"It'slikethisSnapeadoptedme," Harry blurted.
Ron burst out laughing. "Sounded like you just claimed that Snape adopted you!"
"I think he did claim that," Hermione slowly said, studying Harry closely.
"Harry's not that stupid!" Ron objected, raising his voice.
"Yes, I am!" Harry shouted back, only to flush a deep red when he realized how that had come out. "I mean, it's not stupid at all, Ron!"
"Yeah, well it's sure as shite not smart, is it?" Ron spat back, jumping to his feet. "What did he do, feed you a Gullible Potion? You can't want Snape in charge of you!"
Harry stood up, too, his vision narrowing so that he barely noticed Draco doing the same. "Who says I can't?"
Hermione seemed to appear from nowhere, inserting herself in Harry's line of sight. "Maybe you should explain, Harry. You made it clear in the hospital wing that you'd gotten a little... er, attached to Snape, but you know we didn't really understand how that had come about."
"It's hard to explain," Harry admitted, frowning.
"You're Confunded, then!" Ron snarled.
"No, I'm not!"
"How do you know?" Ron took a step forward, his fists clenched. "He could have done anything to you!"
"What he did," Harry shouted, eyes blazing, "was keep my awful family history to himself, and hold my hand in the hospital, and keep me safe on Samhain, and--"
"He let his Death Eater mates use you for an effing pin cushion!" Ron screamed, hurling his bottle of butterbeer to smash against the dungeon floor.
"He kept me alive until he could get me the eff away, you arse!" Harry screamed right back. "What did you want him to do, the noble, heroic thing? Blow his cover early? I'd be dead! Don't you get it? Dead, dead, DEAD!"
"Let's just calm down," Hermione softly recommended.
Ignoring her, Ron stomped across to Harry and put himself in his face. "Talk about attached! After Samhain he was the only one you'd let touch you! You let him put his hands all over you, rubbing in that salve all the time. And then you had to go live with him, too. Are you sure it's Malfoy you're sharing a bedroom with?"