"And vice-versa," Harry quietly acknowledged.
"That as well," Snape agreed, his amusement turning dark. "Molly Weasley had no end of conversation on that very topic. Just as well she can talk and cook at the same time, else we'd all still be waiting dinner."
"Ugh, she cooked?" Draco asked, no thought in him of tact. He pretended a bit of contemplation. "Ah well, I suppose she'd have to as the Weasels can't afford a single house-elf. Pitiful. No offense, Severus. So what did you end up eating, stewed newspaper clippings with a side of old shoes?"
"She makes excellent cheese sauce, I'll have you know!" Harry erupted, and then turning to his father, pressed, "How did it all go?"
"With the Order?" Harry had meant with Ron, actually, but Snape kept right on talking. "Minerva gleaned from a feline memory that Voldemort seems determined to cast his net across the English Channel. We've warned the wizarding authorities in France that attacks on Muggleborns may begin at any time."
"The Dark Lord blabs his plans to cats?" Draco questioned.
"He grows giddy watching torture and speaks immoderately," Snape corrected. "The cat that happened to be there for the Lake District atrocities has no understanding of what it witnessed, but when Minerva managed to draw the memories out, she realized what Voldemort had said." Snape folded his hands together and seemed to bolster himself before speaking again. "Draco, you should be aware that indications now suggest Voldemort wants you returned to him alive."
The Slytherin boy froze with his spoon halfway to his mouth. "What indications?"
"Your father has withdrawn the warrant he put out for your death, but the reward being offered for your person has tripled. Students in Slytherin are now being suborned to simply remove you from the Hogwarts grounds."
Draco slumped. "It's going to be torture, then."
Snape nodded in grim agreement. "No doubt as part of the interrogation. You've been living in a room with Harry Potter for months. Voldemort will want to know what you've learned."
Draco shivered all over. "Excuse me, please. I feel a need for a shower."
Harry felt his own flesh crawl at the look on Draco's face. And no wonder; after witnessing Samhain, the Slytherin boy knew only too well just what kind of fate awaited him at Voldemort's... or possibly his own father's, hands. "I'm... sorry," he whispered, realizing as the words slipped out how inadequate they were. He hadn't regretted being friends with Draco before, but now, hearing that the friendship actually put the other boy in danger?
It was an awful feeling, just awful.
The Potions Master drew in a breath. "Draco... I am sorry to have to tell you this, so soon after the other, but you need to know. Mr. Weasley will resume his detentions tomorrow."
Narrowing his silver eyes, Draco assessed Snape's expression. "There's something more; I can tell. Well? Let's have it, Severus."
"Harry's friend will be taking dinner with us until further notice."
At that, Draco curled a lip. "Salt for my wounds?"
"Separating Harry from his friends weakens him," Snape calmly observed. "And as your life depends on a Harry strong enough to defeat Voldemort, I expect you to fully support this new plan. You will cease being rude to Mr. Weasley, is that clear?"
"As Lubaantum," Draco coldly answered, turning his back on them.
Harry waited until the bedroom door was closed. "Lubaantum?"
Snape waved a tired hand. "Wizarding crystal. Quite renowned, though I doubt Draco's ever seen any. Lucius wouldn't have approved as it's not European."
Harry thought that was more information than he probably needed, but in his rush to find out about Ron, he didn't stop to wonder why his father was a bit less succinct than usual. "So.... um, Ron. You aren't still going to make him write lines, are you?"
Please say no, he thought. Please please please say no...
A mocking glance from those black eyes announced that Snape knew exactly what Harry was thinking. "As it turned out, Mr. Weasley himself supplied the solution to our dilemma. Not unlike what you did a few months back when you demanded that extra test from me." A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Your friend claimed that his grades had taken a sudden downturn ever since he was obliged to spend so much time doing lines. He was behind in all his classes, he said. Well. What could I do but insist he join the nightly revision I am already running for two other students in his year?"
Harry's breath caught. "I imagine he tried to back out as soon as he heard that."
"Mmm, quite valiantly. I told him that of course his studies were paramount and out of deference to that, we would consider his lines at an end, just so long as he continued studying here until such time as I pronounced him competent in each subject." Snape smirked. "The Weasleys hailed me as eminently reasonable, which left their son adrift in a fog of objections no one was listening to."
"And then," Harry surmised, "you mentioned that since we usually began our revision over dinner, he might as well join us."
"The coup de grace," Snape murmured.
"Well, that should give him lots and lots of time with us," Harry recognized. "Though we'll have to make sure it's not just studying he sees. Thank you, sir."
Snape merely nodded his head.
"So, going back a bit to this morning..." Harry ventured, "Are there any solicitors in the wizarding world? I really don't know how anything works. Can you tell me what needs to be done about..."
"The matter of your house? Shall we discuss it in the office?"
Harry didn't know why it mattered if Draco overheard, but he nodded and followed his father down the hallway. "So," Snape began as he shut the door and took one of the two leather chairs that faced the desk, "as I understand it, you wish to divest yourself of the property."
"And Sirius' vault," Harry added.
"Albus has the key," Snape volunteered. "As executor, he has instructions to hold it and all deeds until you reach your majority."
"Then we need to talk to him."
Harry's father shook his head. "Tell me, why this haste to rid yourself of the things your godfather wished you to have?"
"I..." Harry leaned his head back on the chair back. "You know how I feel."
A flick of Snape's wand had the fire in the office grate merrily blazing to life. "Yes. You feel responsible."
Harry groaned. "Please, sir, can we not go over this whole thing again? I do understand that there are other ways to look at the matter, but I still feel horribly guilty."
"Perhaps so," Snape admitted, laying his wand aside. "Nevertheless, it's far too soon for you to lay aside the bequest. You may feel differently later."
Staring into the fire, Harry vowed, "I'm never going to change my mind. Never, sir. I swear."
"Harry, you are sixteen, not sixty."
"Sixteen's mostly grown."
When Harry would have continued, Snape held up a hand. "Trust me when I say that someday, you may well be grateful that I required you to wait. You told me at Christmas that you wanted to know what it was like to be a child. That you wanted to be able to depend on someone. So... can you bring yourself to depend on me, on my wisdom in this matter? Harry... let me be your father in this. "
Put like that, it was hard to refuse. Actually Harry thought he might start bawling or something. Well, not really, he supposed, but there was sort of a tight feeling in his throat. "All right." He nodded to emphasize his agreement.
Snape favored him with a small smile. "Excellent."
Harry didn't think so. Oh, the father part was, but not the house part. He still didn't want it. It was a strange feeling, though, the idea that now he had somebody to help him with decisions like that. Somebody to give him advice. Somebody who cared enough, even, to give him advice he'd rather not have heard.