"I don't believe Muggles have cauldrons at all," Draco pointed out, a comment which almost made Snape's ears steam.
"I'm sorry we lied to Severus, and I'm even more sorry we lied to Hermione," Harry hurriedly put in. "It's just that Draco was so embarrassed! And I was too, if you must know. Oh, not about the game itself, but that Draco kept getting the better of me? I didn't want Hermione to know that." Harry hung his head just a little bit. "I... um, sort of, er, like her, see?"
The casewitch studied them all, from Harry's blush to Snape's fatherly glower to Draco's defensive posture, and then turned to her assistant. "Richard?"
He took a moment to study them all as well, but his scrutiny somehow seemed colder than the casewitch's had been. "I've never seen it played," he finally admitted, with a significant glance at Snape, "but rugby is reputed to be quite a violent sport."
Harry must have looked a bit puzzled, because the casewitch explained, "Mr. Steyne holds a degree in Muggle Studies."
"Oh, then you understand," Harry said, making sure he sounded relieved though what he was really thinking was What sort of programme gives you a degree for knowing about Muggles, but doesn't even make you watch an actual rugby match?
Steyne's glance at him was strangely unreadable.
"The matter will still have to be reported," Amaelia Thistlethorne decided. "However, considering the circumstances, I will recommend nothing more than a warning."
"Warning?" Harry gasped, outraged. He didn't like the sound of that. Who knew what a warning in their file might lead to? "Draco and I were the ones breaking the rules, and you're going to punish Severus for it?"
"Professor Snape must be admonished to keep closer watch of his charges," the casewitch announced, only to color a bit and correct herself, "Charge, rather."
"But that's not fair," Harry objected.
"You must forgive his presumption," Snape broke in, his tone apologetic. "It's the province of Gryffindors, I'm afraid, to believe life should above all be fair. I for one appreciate your having visited us today." His glower came roaring back. "If not for that, it would doubtless not have been brought to my attention that my supervision of the young men has been a bit remiss. Rest assured, there will be no more rugby," he sneered.
"And their consequence?" she inquired.
Harry thought she was the one being presumptuous. What business of hers was that? Actually, the question alarmed him. Why would she ask it, unless she thought the Potions Master likely to be cruel and vindictive?
Snape gave his sons a bland, superior sort of stare. "I do believe I have some books that have been grossly mis-shelved," he announced, flicking a derisive glance at the bookcases. "No doubt a pair of whimsical house-elves with no sense of organization whatsoever are to blame. The young men can correct the matter. Both of them," he added with a significant look at Draco. "And after that, we will have a talk."
"A lecture, he means," Draco confirmed to Harry.
"We get a lot of those," Harry sighed to the casewitch.
Amaelia Thistlethorne studied the three of them for what seemed an interminable moment, but in the end, she gave one of her brisk, businesslike nods, and indicated with a gesture that she and her colleague would be taking their leave. "We will, however," she thought to warn, "return unannounced for future random inspections."
"Of course, of course," Snape said, much in the tone of someone trying to soothe ruffled feathers.
"And of course if we receive further complaints," the casewitch added.
"You won't," Harry assured her. "Cross my heart. No more rugby."
Steyne turned back from the doorway to stare at him. "I should hope not."
The moment the casewizards had gone, Snape motioned for silence, then drew his wand and wrote in fiery letters that hung in the air, Watch what you say for a few minutes. There may be eavesdropping spells left in place but my wards will make short work of them.
Draco nodded, and turned to Harry. "What was that last bit? Cross your heart?"
"It's a Muggle thing. A way of saying that you promise..." Thinking back, Harry began to recite the entire poem. "Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye--"
Draco curled a lip. "That's not funny, Harry."
"No, it's not," he admitted, frowning. "But I'm not making it up. That is what Muggles say sometimes when all they mean is that something is true for sure."
"No wonder that Muggle game was so violent," Draco retorted, shuddering theatrically. Good thing there was no-one left to see it; it hadn't looked real at all.
"Well, you liked it, didn't you?" Harry came back, playing along.
"I didn't like getting Severus in trouble, though, but that's hardly my fault. It was your idea in the first place to play the stupid game--"
"It was your idea not to tell him--"
"That's quite enough," Snape broke in, shaking his head in amusement though his voice remained grim. "You two have some books to reshelve. I suggest you get on with it."
He left them to it.
And this time when Harry began heaving books from the bookcase to the table so that he could sort them properly, Draco actually helped.
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Snape checked that his books were coherently arranged in the bookcase, then informed them, "I've ascertained that there never were, in fact, any listening spells left behind."
"That makes sense," Harry remarked, frowning. "That Steyne fellow was pretty proud of the way their department doesn't violate a child's rights. As if he's forgotten about Darswaithe already! Not to mention, he was completely rude to Draco!"
"It's not a department, it's an adjunct services office," Draco scathed. "Which means, I suppose, that it's a bunch of people a little too full of their own importance, if you ask me. Sort of like your friend Hermione!"
"We will deal with Miss Granger later," Snape announced, his tones so dark that Harry shivered. He wondered what his father had in mind, though he was certain it wouldn't be expulsion or ten thousand lines. It might be something even worse.
Not that Hermione didn't deserve it, Harry thought, his thoughts going just as dark as Snape's voice.
As though aware Harry needed a distraction, Snape abruptly summoned a wrapped box from his bedroom, then handed it to the boy. "I had thought to keep this until you began attending classes once more, but considering your rather Slytherin performance today, I think it appropriate you have it now."
A present? Harry didn't know what to say. He covered the feeling by saying, "You caught on quick enough to my lies And so did Draco.... I guess he's better at misdirection than I thought."
The Slytherin boy shrugged. "I suppose it's easier to follow a lie than make one up. Might explain why there's usually only one Dark Lord at a time," he mused.
"And Voldemort's lie was?" Snape briskly inquired.
Harry looked from Snape to Draco and back, intrigued.
A long-suffering sigh hissing through his teeth, Draco complained, "You're going to make me say it? Out loud?"
"I think you'd better," the Potions Master advised. "Because Harry will be leaving us soon, as you well know. What do you want him to remember about you when the Gryffindors begin--as is unavoidable--to complain that he's mistaken to trust you?"
"Oh, fine," Draco sighed, rolling his eyes. "Blood isn't everything, all right? Your mother was a Muggleborn, but here you are, the fruit of her loins, and a finer wizard the world's never seen. There, I said it. You're just as good as I am."
"Perhaps without the sarcasm, this time," Snape dryly inserted.
"I've said it to him before, if you must know," Draco exclaimed. "When we talked about Samhain. I admitted that pure blood hadn't given Lucius the guts to stand up to the Dark Lord! I admitted that I had some rethinking to do!" Then he glanced at Harry, and added, "I didn't mean it when I said I had better coordination because I was a pure-blood, you know. I was just playing into your lie."