Harry could just imagine Snape withholding comment as he forced down fish and chips with coleslaw. "Uh, no," he declined. "Not hungry, anyway. Actually, I've got a splitting headache. I think it's from holding in the wild magic that wanted to get loose."
"I'll get you a potion," Draco said, returning in a moment with a small vial. Harry recognized the color, but that didn't mean much. It could still be adulterated with anything, just like Ron had said. Draco would know how to mask a poison.
But Draco didn't want to poison him.
Harry took the vial and downed the contents without even hesitating. "Thank you," he said, feeling the headache begin to clear.
"Thank you," Draco quietly answered.
They both knew for what.
Harry gave him a smile, but it was tinged with sadness. He didn't want to gain a rapport with Draco only at the expense of his other friendships. "I'm going to have a lie-down," Harry sighed, gathering Sals from the Floo before going into his room.
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Harry didn't exactly sleep through dinner, he just didn't answer when Snape called to say it was ready. He was half-asleep, anyway, drifting in and out as Sals crawled around on his chest, occasionally climbing up to hiss in his ear. Strangely enough, Sals missed Dudley.
Maybe it's because afraid or not, Dudley never hexed her, Harry thought. Not that Dudley could have, but Harry didn't think Sals understood the difference between a Muggle and a wizard. No great shock, there. Harry had been stuck in between the two ever since he'd known Sals.
He wasn't hungry, so missing dinner was no big deal, but somehow he still appreciated it when Snape came into the bedroom later carrying a tray laden with most of Harry's favorite foods. A chair followed him in, bobbing through the air rather like some dishes Harry had once seen summoned in a American Muggle cartoon about Merlin. Thank goodness the Dursleys hadn't caught him watching it!
Harry sat up, setting Sals to the side before he ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, thanks," he said, glancing at the tray. "Dobby must have helped with this?"
"You think my powers of observation don't encompass what you eat?" Snape set the tray on Harry's legs and made it hover a couple of inches above them, then pulled the chair close to the bed and sat down.
Picking up the glass of orange juice, Harry sighed, "I really don't have much appetite."
"Classic symptom of depression."
Harry didn't like the sound of that. "No, no, I'm not depressed," he insisted. "Honestly, Professor. I'm very happy to be your, ah--"
"Adoptee?"
Tone of voice made all the difference in the world, Harry thought. The question could have drenched him with shame that he'd been so self-centered as to say that. But Snape's voice held no anger or sarcasm; it was merely coated with that sardonic lilt Harry had come to recognize as teasing.
"I'm very happy to be your son," he said unflinchingly.
Snape reached out and held his hand for a moment, lacing their fingers together and squeezing before he let it go. "Good to hear. You are, however, depressed. Not too surprising, considering the scene that transpired here, today."
"Shite," Harry swore. "Oh, sorry. It's just that I didn't think Draco would tell you. He's a fine one to call Dudley a blabbermouth! Of course, he's probably hoping to get Ron expelled. That's not very nice! Even if he does hate him, you'd think Draco would spare a thought for what I might like--"
Snape held up a silencing hand. "Draco never mentioned a word about Mr. Weasley's vile and rather uninspired comments."
"Then how do you know about them?" Harry couldn't help but ask. Too upset now to even drink, he set his glass down.
"When Draco told me you had almost unleashed wild magic, but had managed to restrain it, I insisted on viewing the entire incident in a Pensieve." Snape gave Harry a considering look. "He actually objected to releasing the memory, but in the end, I prevailed."
"Oh."
"I found myself rather impressed by your impassioned defense of me," Snape murmured. "However, it was not necessary. I do not care what your friends think."
"I know, but I care," Harry explained, horrified to feel tears actually start to well in his eyes. How ridiculous could he get? They weren't true, those awful things Ron had said, so why should they bother him so much? He shoved the tray to hover down near his feet and crossing his legs, bent over them as he tried to get himself back under control.
He felt an arm come around his shoulders, an arm that tightened, giving him the feeling that he wasn't alone. But of course, he wasn't. "Shhh, you idiot child. It's probably little consolation, but I suspect Mr. Weasley did not truly believe the nonsense he decided to spew."
"Why spew it then?" Harry asked, unbending enough to look up. He snatched at the handkerchief Snape was holding out, and rubbed it against his eyes.
"Likely because he was angry and wanted to hurt you. By refusing to be distraught about the adoption, you effectively chose your own perspective over his. Mr. Weasley did not react well."
"I don't know," Harry murmured. "He doesn't trust you, so maybe he does really think... you know."
"Harry, he said at the end that he would be 'fine' about your living here if you would agree that it was only for the warding. Do you truly think he would offer that compromise if he was convinced I was molesting you?"
"Uh, no. Put that way, I guess not. Well... you sure are taking this a lot more calmly than I would have thought."
"You are not an appropriate outlet for my ire," Snape said, his eyes glimmering with intent.
"Uh-oh. Are you going to try to get Ron expelled?"
A dark smile transformed Snape's face into an expression of wicked amusement. "And place him out of reach of my wrath? I think not."
Harry swallowed. As mad as he was at Ron, he didn't like the sound of that. "What do you have in mind?"
Snape waved a careless hand, but the gesture was offset by the clear malevolence in his eyes. "Nothing until after Christmas break. We'll let him have a while to ponder his foolish insults. In the meantime, I have taken the liberty of writing to Arthur and Molly Weasley to inform them of his behavior."
"In other words, you decided to ruin his Christmas."
"Will it do that, really," Snape murmured in tones of mock-innocence. Harry wasn't fooled.
"Aren't you concerned about what the Weasleys might say about our news?"
"Perhaps you didn't hear me when I said I did not care what people think."
"Not even Order members?"
Snape shook his head. "I need no-one's permission." He brought the tray back up within reach. "Perhaps you will eat something now?"
"Still not hungry."
"Oblige me," Snape requested in a hard tone. Harry reluctantly began to nibble on a cookie. "Oh, very healthy," Snape scathed, but for all that, his teacher didn't really try to stop him. "So. You are definitely making progress with your magic, Harry."
"I don't follow."
"Wild magic is by definition, exactly that. Your being able to tame it is a good sign."
"Yeah, well you saw what I had to do to manage that."
Snape smirked. "And a good job you did of it, too. I retract what I said about your not being able to land a decent blow."
"Thanks. I think," Harry murmured.
"Enough about that rather tawdry incident," Snape decided. "I would like to know how you did with Truthful Dreams last night."
"Oh, fine," Harry answered. Snape just stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "You know how you said it sort of makes you dream about whatever's been on your mind? I... uh, dreamed a bit about you, actually."
"You have some concerns? Doubts?"
"No... I don't know why I dreamed that, actually. But... well, I almost hate to mention this, in case you stop, but do you realize that when you call somebody an 'idiot child,' you do it sort of... uh, affectionately?"