"Uh, yeah," Ron murmured, clearly astonished.
"Not too Slytherin of you," was Draco's sour complaint. "We might win if you'd let me keep looking. And don't say that winning that way isn't any sort of victory, because you know perfectly well that it is."
"Mmm, but considering that my family is not entirely Slytherin, some sacrifices must be made."
Draco glanced once at Harry, then back at Snape. "You'd let me watch if he didn't know though, I bet."
Snape didn't deny it, Harry noticed, though he did say, "Ah, well as he does know, sacrifices must be made. As I said."
Draco seemed to take that in stride. On Saturday, however, he had some words about it. Snape had gone off to attend the match, and Harry and Draco were sitting side by side on one bed, waiting for the magical picture frame to start displaying the pitch.
"The fact that you're Gryffindor as well as Slytherin has some interesting implications, I think," Draco suddenly remarked. "Have you thought about what you're going to do once you get out of here?"
Harry sent him an inquiring glance.
"About Quidditch," Draco explained, a sneaky smile curling his lips. "You have two Houses now, don't forget. Since one of them is Gryffindor, you have this compulsion to be fair about everything, don't you? Doesn't that mean you can't cheat one of your Houses when it comes to Quidditch?"
Harry gaped. "What are you going on about?"
"Oh, it's probably a moot point for this year," Draco drawled. "But next year, Harry. I'll probably still be stuck down here, but I'm sure you'll be back to classes. And Quidditch. Now to be fair, you'll have to play for Slytherin at least half the time, don't you think?"
"I'm not playing for Slytherin!"
"I thought you were all right with being in Slytherin?"
"Yeah, but..." Harry repressed an urge to shiver. "Listen, I'm not going to live in Slytherin, either. That's just the way things are."
Draco looked at him seriously, all teasing gone from his voice. "I've been trying to show them that the Dark Lord's a bad deal, but I can't turn them all by myself, Harry. I need your help. Promise me something, all right? If you get out of here before I do, you have to acknowledge Slytherin proudly and be one of us, too."
"I am not playing Seeker for Slytherin, Draco," Harry sighed.
"I didn't mean that. Just... don't act like an outsider, all right? You aren't one now, and they all need to know it. Go hang out in the common room, sit at the Slytherin table for a meal now and then. Act like we're your House, too. Because we are."
"I don't have a death wish."
"How is Severus going to feel if the minute you leave his rooms you start pretending he's not your Head of House, when you know perfectly well that he is?"
"I thought," Harry carefully remarked, "that we agreed you'd stay out of how I get along with Severus."
"I thought," Draco remarked just as carefully, "that you wanted to win this war. You could have practically all Hogwarts on your side if you played your cards right, that's all I'm saying. Being placed in Slytherin at this late date has given you a strategic advantage, the opportunity to work us from the inside. Don't let your Gryffindor pride lay all that to waste."
"I'll think about it," Harry promised, and then thankfully, before Draco could reply, the game flashed into the picture frame and the two boys began to argue Quidditch instead of House politics.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Ron seemed unaccountably nervous a few nights later. He kept watching the door, evidently waiting for Snape to come home. He seemed positively anxious, as though he had something to say, Harry mused...
Sure enough, the moment Snape stepped into his living room, Ron jumped up from the table and blurted, "You aren't going, are you? I mean, are you, sir?"
Snape seemed to take some sort of dark delight in drawling, "Why, of course I am, Mr. Weasley."
Ron made a face and muttered something about letters from home always containing bad news.
"Where are you going?" Harry asked, looking up.
His lips slightly twisted, the Potions Master admitted, "I've been invited to dine at the Weasley residence this evening."
Ron gave a little shudder, no doubt at the prospect of Snape standing in his family home.
Harry couldn't help but feel a bit offended at that. "How would you like it," he challenged, rounding on his friend, "if I kicked up a fuss about your father dropping by my house?"
"Yeah, well I might understand perfectly if my father was your teacher and you were in trouble with him already, don't you think?"
"Oh," Harry said, blinking. He actually hadn't thought of that. He felt a bit embarrassed now that he'd leapt to Severus' defense.
"Mr. Weasley," Snape said, waiting until he had Ron's full attention. "You are not in trouble. I imagine that your parents merely wish to hear about your progress in all your classes, a subject with which I am intimately acquainted."
Ron groaned. "In other words, Howler City."
"You have such a low opinion of your academic abilities?"
"No, but you do."
A low laugh rumbled through Snape's chest. "I told you that your Potions essay was well-developed, did I not?"
"Yeah, when it was half-done. Once I'd slaved to finish it, it was Charmed Potions cannot solve all the world's ills, Mr. Weasley, though it is quite Gryffindor of you to suspect they can. Next time please apply a modicum of thought to your conclusion."
Snape was already standing, but at that he straightened still further. "The comment perturbed you?"
"Yes, it perturbed me," Ron groused, his face going a bit red. "I did apply a modicum of thought, and if it sounded like I didn't... well, why don't you just come right out with it and say you think I'm stupid?"
The Potions Master turned to Harry. "I suppose you were right that students were apt to take my words a bit more literally than I intended."
Harry nodded, resisting an urge to add Told you.
Snape turned back to Ron. "I merely meant that what had been quite a strong essay was flawed by wild speculations in the concluding paragraph."
Ron blinked. "Oh. That's not so bad. Maybe you could say that next time, instead of the other."
"I rather like the notion of Gryffindors quailing at the mere sound of my footsteps," Snape remarked. "Though now with a Gryffindor for a son..."
"This is pathetic," Draco put in.
"I don't believe I elicited your opinion, Mr. Malfoy," Snape rebuked him. "Now, Mr. Weasley. You're performing at an adequate level in most subjects though I wouldn't recommend we desist from tutoring as of yet. And that's all I plan to say to your parents on the subject."
Ron slowly nodded, looking a bit as though he couldn't believe his ears. Then that expression faded to something more like pure disbelief, as though he thought Snape was lying to him outright. Harry swallowed back an urge to defend Snape yet again.
"Harry," Snape said to get his attention. "Arthur said to be sure to tell you that you were invited as well, though he knows you couldn't accept, considering."
"That's all right," Harry nodded. He didn't want Voldemort attacking Ron's house, after all. "Tell him thanks."
"Any message I can bring from you to your parents, Mr. Weasley?" Snape inquired as he hung his school robes and reached for the less imposing ones hanging by the door.
"No," Ron said, a bit mulishly. He evidently still hadn't forgiven his parents for forcing him to endure yet more evenings in the dungeons.