"Very mature," Snape commended. "Though as I said, I can't agree that it will ever come to that. However, if you feel that way, it occurs to me to wonder why your thoughts in the living room were quite so morose."
Harry's lips turned down. "Maybe it would be better if you didn't pry like that. I don't much like the idea that I have to go around Occluding here in my own home."
"You make it sound as though I Legilimize you on a continual basis."
"You shouldn't do it at all. Or at least, not without warning me."
"Who is the father here?" Snape demanded to know.
Harry, however, was wise to him, just as he'd said up in Dumbledore's office. Snape was trying to put him off the topic, which probably meant that the man knew it hadn't been right to pry that way. "You're the father," he easily admitted. "And you have the makings of a really, really good one--"
"The makings," Snape echoed.
"Yeah, but some things need work. I'm sure you'd say the same of me, right? But we're talking about you, this time," he added, before Snape could sidetrack the conversation. "If we're practicing dueling or something, that's one thing. Or if I was sick or hurt and couldn't talk, I guess. Other than that, I think you'd better not Legilimize me. It's just not right." When Snape still looked a bit stubborn, Harry reluctantly added, "It's a bit like sneaking a peek in somebody's Pensieve, don't you think?"
"That's a line worthy of a Slytherin," Snape scoffed.
Well, Harry reasoned, it was good they were so far past that. He'd been a little leery that the mere mention of the Pensieve would get him a glare, even after everything that had happened since. Not wanting to push his luck, he dropped the matter of Legilimency and went on. "Anyway, about me being morose. There was a reason. Up in Dumbledore's office, I started wondering just what awful thing might happen to cause an unadoption... I'd already figured out that it wouldn't really matter, right? But then I thought, what if after you unadopt me, it'll put you in danger if I so much as come by? I realized it wasn't going to be much use having an 'unofficial' father if I can't even see him. That idea was pretty upsetting. I mean, it'd be even worse than--" Harry abruptly shut up.
"Worse than what?"
A bare whisper was the most Harry could manage. "I just mean... there were times growing up when I wished so much that I could talk to my father, right? But I knew it wasn't possible. And I didn't really know him anyway, or even know what it was like to have anybody, so I didn't know what I was missing, if that makes sense. But this..." A shiver coursed through his shoulders. "If I lose you, I'll know what I've lost."
Snape reached out and laid a hand on his knee. "You are not going to lose me, Harry."
Harry gulped. "I started wondering if the Ministry was going to... um, you know, hold your past against you and send you to Azkaban, actually. It could happen. You know how stupid and unfair Fudge is."
"He's not quite stupid enough to incite a revolt," Snape dryly remarked, leaning back again. "I rescued the Boy Who Lived from certain death. You may not realize this, but the events on Samhain were widely reported."
"Ron mentioned something about that..."
"I am hailed as a hero," Snape said with some measure of disgust. "The Ministry even saw fit to reveal my years of espionage, the fools, though it was never them I reported to, but the Order." He shook his head. "At any rate, imprisoning the man who saved you, who afterwards took you into his own home... the man you now call Father? Not even Fudge is that great an imbecile. You could sway public opinion against him in an instant."
"If I had that kind of influence," Harry weakly protested, "the Prophet wouldn't have spent months printing lies about me."
"Fudge's last ditch effort to pretend Voldemort had not returned," Snape brushed that off. "He knows better now, which means he definitely needs you. Even without knowing the prophecy I'm sure he realizes that. He wouldn't dare trump up charges against me, so stop tormenting yourself, Harry. As I said, you are not going to lose me."
"I hope not," Harry whispered.
"You won't," Snape promised. "I don't even believe that any legal adjustments will be in order. I hope that assures you."
Harry nodded, his eyes still a bit shadowed. He couldn't help but think that some awful problem was going to rear its ugly head and force them apart. There was no point in discussing that, though, not any longer. Snape knew what he thought, and he knew what Snape thought, and as for the rest... they'd just have to watch the future unfold and see.
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The mood around the dinner table that night was a bit strained. In between bites, Draco kept shooting Harry odd little glances, as if trying to figure out what had gone on in the office earlier that day. Harry didn't want to discuss the prospect of unadoption. It had been bad enough going over all of it with Severus.
And he certainly wasn't going to bring the matter up in front of Ron.
Ron usually ate quickly and launched straight into his homework, sometimes while the others were still finishing dinner. Snape had been remarkably tolerant of the borderline rude behavior, but this evening, Ron had enough sense to tread a bit more carefully. He didn't even say anything about the fact that the conversation wasn't centered on revision, though to Harry's eyes it did seem that he was looking at them all a bit curiously. Ron lingered over his dessert, only setting his fork down when Harry did, breathing an almost inaudible sigh of relief when Snape left the table and headed for his office.
He waited until the door was closed before leaning forward over the table and quietly whispering, "What's the matter?"
Harry firmed his lips. "Nothing."
"Don't give me that," Ron hissed. "You look like your best friend has died or something!"
"Well, you haven't, have you?" Harry weakly joked.
Ron almost flinched, his gaze straying to Draco, then back to Harry. "You still count me as your best friend?"
"Yes," Harry said. "Though this has been even worse than fourth year."
Draco had been sitting quietly throughout dinner, apparently content to listen and observe, but that comment got the better of his restraint. "What happened fourth year?"
"Tri-Wizard Tournament," Harry shortly explained.
"So?"
Ron clenched his fists, then quickly shoved them under the table. "I thought Harry had snuck his name in the Goblet, all right?"
Draco grinned, the expression a little bit malicious. "Well, that's not such a horrible crime, is it? I mean, we all thought he was a glory-seeking attention-addicted little arse."
"I should have known better," Ron groused. "It makes me sick to think I was momentarily in the same mindset as you."
"Hmm, you'll be ill for a long while then," Draco breezed, standing up. "I plan to be an Auror and join the Order and all the rest, so unless you plan on changing sides..." He let the suggestion hang in the air, a challenging lilt to his eyebrows.
"You may have Harry snowed twenty feet under--" Ron hotly began.
"Don't," Harry interrupted.
"Don't?" Ron groused.
"Yeah, just don't. You don't have to like Draco and you sure don't have to trust him. I know how long it took me, and I was around him twenty-four hours a day, all right? I understand where you're at. But don't pick a fight, all right?"
"Pick a fight!" Ron complained. "He was the one taunting me!"
"He's going to stop that," Harry said with a hard glare in Draco's direction. "Right?"
Draco gave a careless shrug. "Well, seeing as you've switched to crumpets for the duration, I suppose I may as well."