"Ronald Weasley, how dare you--"
"It's like with the house-elves!" Ron railed, warming to his theme. "They're happy! They're bubbling over with delight at their little lives! They couldn't be happier, and what do you do but try to force them into a freedom they don't want and won't like! And here you are trying to make sure Harry ends up an orphan again. Merlin's balls, Wizard Family Services! At least when I was as full of myself as you are, I didn't go that far trying to mess Harry's life up!"
Hermione actually shut up for once as she thought about that.
"All right," she finally said in a slightly grumbling tone. "I get the point. Harry's happy."
"Well I was," Harry sighed, "until you stuck your nose into all of it and I ended up disobeying Severus. Now I'm just bloody miserable. Thanks, Hermione." Glancing up, he saw that she looked absolutely crestfallen. Served her right, even though he knew that what he'd said hadn't been exactly fair. He'd had other reasons for telling her about his magic, after all.
"I said I was sorry--"
"Yeah, but are you sorry for writing Family Services, or sorry that you treated me all along like I was too stupid to know what I was doing?"
Hermione swallowed, hearing it put that way. "For both, I guess," she quietly answered, her voice barely audible.
"Well, good," Harry answered. "You stay that way. You stay sorry. Because when I move into the Tower again, I don't want to hear my father being badmouthed either. Well, not just for being my father, I mean. You can complain about points from Gryffindor or impossible potions assignments all you like. I know he isn't perfect."
The house-elves chose that moment to invisibly whisk away the soufflÈs, replacing them with little shell-shaped dishes filled with the promised shrimp vinaigrette. Harry took one look at his and groaned.
"Perhaps we should just cut dinner short," Draco suggested.
"Good idea," Hermione echoed, shoving her chair back. Ron followed suit, though he eyed his shrimp longingly as he stood.
"So when are you coming back to the classes?" Ron thought to ask.
"As soon as I develop a little better spell control."
"Good idea, after that Lumos..."
"Oh, it was a Lumos that concussed him?" Hermione nodded sagely. "So that's what destroyed the professor's books, I suppose."
Draco made his way over to the door and waved it open. As Hermione passed him, he held up a hand to delay her exit, but he didn't touch her. "You really are quite clever. Cleverest witch of your age, I heard Harry say you'd been called. Listen... I resent your owling Family Services, and I really hate the way you took it on yourself to decide Severus wasn't good enough for Harry, but for all that... I'm sorry I called you a bleating cow."
Hermione stepped back almost reflexively, shock written all across her features. Then she recovered enough to return, "It's sheep who bleat, Malfoy. But... I accept your apology."
"Sorry you called her Mudblood, too, are you?" Ron challenged, looking none too pleased by this development.
"Actually, I'm sorry she is one," Draco returned, but that only made Ron look angrier.
"Draco," Harry groaned, finally pushing up from the table. "Not this again. You said you weren't going to be so focused on--"
"All I meant was that like it or not, a lot of doors will be closed to her," Draco haughtily clarified.
"Yeah, sure," Ron growled, fists clenched. He wasted no time in ushering Hermione out of there.
After the door was closed behind them, Draco laid a hand on Harry's elbow and steered him back towards his dinner. "I know you want to go see Severus, but you really should eat a bit more, first. He won't be happy if I have to tell him that you're starving yourself again, remember?"
Yeah, Harry thought. No point in disappointing him still further. He took a bite of shrimp and tried to savor it. A little bit of tart flavor soaked through the sawdust feeling in his mouth. "So why'd you apologize to Hermione?" he had to ask.
Draco lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, don't tell me you've forgotten our deal. I said I'd apologize for the cow remark as soon as she admitted she was wrong about you and Severus."
Harry ate another shrimp as he considered that. "She didn't say she was wrong, though."
"Oh, as good as," Draco passed that off. "She won't be putting herself in the middle of it again, I could tell. And I didn't want you thinking I didn't keep my word."
"You're a Slytherin; you don't keep your word except when it's in your own best interests."
"Yes, well I think you understand where my interests lie, these days. But Harry, even if you weren't the prophesied savior of the world," he lightly mocked, "I still would stand with you. Because... oh, hell. It's too Hufflepuffish to even say, but I'm going to anyway. Now that I know you, you're actually pretty likeable. Well, sometimes. I certainly wouldn't want to see you dead."
"Oh, good," Harry drawled, his spirits momentarily picking up. "You like me sometimes and you don't want to see me dead. What a sentiment. Have you considered writing greeting cards for a living?"
"I just wanted you to know that I'm not just on your side only because you're so hideously disfigured," Draco drolled back, staring pointedly at Harry's scar.
"Yeah, I know that," Harry admitted. "We're brothers." He set his fork down, realizing as he did so that he'd eaten over half his portion. He felt better for it, too.
He knew, though, that he'd soon be feeling worse. It was time to face his father.
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"Enter," Snape said at his tentative knock, the single word sounding unfriendly. It only got worse when the boy went in, closed the door, and perched on the edge of a chair in front of Snape's desk. The Potions Master sat behind it, features dark with displeasure and resentment, and Harry had a sudden, awful feeling that he'd been transported backwards several months in time, and he was in here to be yelled at and assigned detention.
Which was stupid, of course. Snape had certainly never had him down to his private quarters just to give him detention.
"I thought I should come in and apologize, sir," Harry started.
"Not if you don't mean it," Snape barked, and at Harry's quick look, added, "All that power, but what good is it if you can't think critically enough to realize that the silencing spells on my door only work in one direction? Yes, I heard you!"
Harry suddenly began to feel embarrassed that he'd gone on out there about how much he loved his father. Not that Snape appeared to have overheard that, but still...
"Well I am sorry that I couldn't be a better son," he quickly said. "I didn't want to disobey you, really. I was trying not to, even. I was going along with the rugby story--"
"Until you decided you'd had enough of lying to your precious friends," Snape spat. "No wonder you insisted Mr. Weasley join us. I knew you were up to something! I should have trusted my instincts, by Merlin!"
"I wasn't maneuvering you when I suggested inviting Ron down!" Harry insisted. "I honestly thought he'd be a big help--"
"I dare say he was a far bigger help than you'd anticipated, supporting the rugby lie the way he did." Cold, that voice. Cold all the way through. "Were you hoping he'd mention the Lumos the moment your injuries became a topic of discussion, perhaps? But he didn't, which left it to you to tell Miss Granger flat-out despite my clear order to the contrary!"