"Yes, I do. I need him to keep me from getting too Slytherin from all the time I spend with you."
"Won't be a problem soon, will it? You're going back to all your friends," Draco sneered. "You'll visit Severus in his classroom office and never make it all the way down here."
"Oh, that's just bloody ridiculous," Harry laughed. "Are you saying that to make me contradict you? Listen, Draco, you and I are going to have the whole summer together. And it's going to be brilliant. Just think, I can fly again! So we can play one on one Quidditch!"
"Yeah, well that's summer," Draco huffed. "I still have the rest of the winter term to get through, and all of spring term. I'll be stuck here all alone again, and you'll go back with all your smarmy little friends and forget you even have a brother, I just bet you will!"
"Want to bet your vault?"
Draco swallowed. "Excuse me?"
"You did mention it earlier, betting your vault." And then, "I'm joking, Draco. I'm not going to forget you just because I go back to Gryffindor! I'll visit here, I promise. Hmm. Wonder if I can get the headmaster to let me use his Floo."
"It's not that long a journey by foot," Snape put in, his dark eyes steady on Harry. Challenging him to keep his word about visiting? Harry wasn't sure.
"I was thinking more of stray Slytherins out for blood, actually," he explained.
"You can't avoid them," Draco pointed out. "Remember? You're a Slytherin. Common Room. Slytherin table. Seeker--"
"Not Seeker."
"Well, the others, then. You did promise."
"I did not! I said I'd think about it, is all."
Snape cleared his throat. "Harry is in fact going nowhere for a good while yet. Now, shall we enjoy our dinner?" He waved at the table and food appeared; Harry supposed Snape must have ordered while he and Draco had been arguing. Hmm, looked like roast duck in orange sauce with a rather fabulous Pavlova for dessert. And a bottle of champagne. Wow, he'd have to tell Ron that this was how Slytherins celebrated.
The food was really good, but not because it was so gourmet. By then, Harry had eaten plenty of fancy dishes, though he was hardly jaded. But this food was special because for the first time in a long time, he felt hungry, eager, and enthusiastic. Things were looking up. His magic was back, and it looked as though with some work he'd be able to control it fine. Granted, he didn't love the idea of doing spells without a wand, but at least that wouldn't have to be so very obvious. Yeah, incanting in Parseltongue was going to upset the other students enough, without doing it wandlessly as well. It would all work out.
Even Slytherin, he thought, some part of him wanting to take charge of that situation, too. It was like with his magic. Things had only gotten better when he'd decided to do something about his problem. So... it was time to find out just what he was up against. Good thing he had some experts to consult. Ron and Hermione wouldn't be any help with this particular problem, would they?
He finished up his portion of duck, then wiped his mouth with a napkin before venturing, "I guess you'd better tell me all you can about my new housemates, then. You know, which ones can I win over and what's the pecking order and which ones are definitely going to try to kill me no matter what?" He remembered something then. "Hmm. Let's start with the half-bloods and Muggleborns. Who are they? And how are you coming along with your letters to them, Draco?"
The rest of the evening had Harry immersed in the intrigues that had been occupying Draco all along.
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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:
Chapter Sixty-One: Dreaming of Draco
Comments very welcome,
Aspen in the Sunlight
Chapter 61: Dreaming of Draco
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=5036&chapter=61
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A Year Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter Sixty-One: Dreaming of Draco
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Harry groaned a little as he reached for his juice a few afternoons later. As much as he was enjoying being a practicing wizard once more, he definitely wasn't enjoying the injuries, bruises, and sore muscles that came with it. It wouldn't be so bad if his powers would behave the way they used to, but even his wandless magic was a bit unpredictable, still.
It didn't help that he kept accidentally channeling power through his wand and getting thrown back from the force of the spells.
It also didn't help that his father was a vicious bastard when it came to training him. Of course they weren't actually dueling as of yet; that could wait until Harry had a firmer grip on spell intensity, as Snape put it. No, what they were doing was practicing shielding, which basically meant that Harry had to block curse after curse from not just Snape but Draco as well, the two of them trying their best to catch him off guard. Draco had even started flying about above him, throwing random curses out while Snape was trying to explain something. Harry called that unfair; his father said it was sound practice and that if Harry was going to attend classes, he'd best be prepared to defend himself at an instant's notice.
Harry had ended up on his arse more times than he cared to think about. He'd even broken his arm--twice--when particularly nasty curses had come out of nowhere to flip him up in the air at high speeds. Of course Snape had taken care of that at once. One quick potion and he was back on his feet, ready to shield again. Rather handy, Harry thought, having a Potions Master for a dad.
When they'd started all this training, however, Snape had seen fit to mention that imbibing too many healing potions was far from healthy. Harry had taken that as a strong hint not to go to Snape with every ache and pain. That suited Harry, though. It used to be his motto that he wouldn't ask for things he wouldn't get. There was a lot of comfort in knowing that since he had a real dad now, he could ask for whatever he needed. He was positive that Snape would heal him anytime he asked, but there was also such a thing as pride. Growing up with Dudley had taught him well enough how to tough out minor cuts and scrapes and bruises. Harry had a new motto now. He wouldn't ask for help unless he really, truly needed some.
Of course, he might start needing some more often now that Snape had decided it was time for Harry to learn some physical fighting techniques as well. Just in case his magic failed him, Snape had explained, and when Harry had scoffed that that wasn't too likely, was it, the man had flung him to his back on the grass and straddled him, pinning his hands over his head as he hissed into his face that anything was possible and no son of his was going to end up helpless in a fight, not if he could help it.
That was when his bruises began to get both more frequent and more colorful. But still, Harry didn't often complain. He concentrated instead on keeping an eye out for Draco's wand--or Snape's--while he and his father warily circled each other. It was all worth it, though. Not only was his magical control improving all the time--Snape's learn by experience theory actually working for once, but he was getting better at Muggle-style fighting as well. Of course, he could hardly hope to best his father yet--the man was taller, stronger, and heavier than he was, not to mention a surprisingly good brawler, but he was getting there.