Harry narrowed his eyes. "Well, if you want privacy I can certainly oblige. I'll just leave you to write your reply in peace. I'll sit out in the living room until you finish. How's that?"
"Lousy. My potion needs stirring--"
"Then stir it and write your letter later," Harry very reasonably suggested.
Draco's hand clenched around the letter. "Listen, Potter, I'm not in the mood to brew. Just go stir it and let me concentrate!"
"You listen, Malfoy," Harry announced, stomping up to the other boy. "The only thing you want to concentrate on is keeping me busy in the lab so you can sneak out of Severus' quarters! Didn't I tell you I wasn't stupid?"
"I'm not planning to sneak out of--"
"There's only one reason you could want my cloak, and it's to hide, and since I don't imagine you need to hide from me, you've obviously got plans to leave the rooms! So out with it! The truth, this time!"
"Oh, you think you know so much," Draco began to sneer.
"What does the letter say?"
"It's none of your business, Potter--"
Harry looked around for Sals, who thankfully was in her box on his night table, then pointed his hand and yelled, "Get over here, Draco's letter!"
The Slytherin boy swore as the parchment ripped itself from his grip and sailed across the room.
"I think about what you've written all the time," Harry read aloud. "I feel so bad now about that night in Slytherin--"
Draco lunged. "Give me that!"
Jumping up on his bed, Harry held the letter behind his back. "Tell me the truth. The truth, or I'll Floo this letter straight to Severus--"
"Oh, fine!" Draco scathed. "She's ready to listen to what it's really like to serve the Dark Lord! She's waiting for me, right now, has some questions, and I have to go talk to her."
"No you don't. She can put her questions in her next letter."
"She's Slytherin, Potter. She's not stupid enough to write her questions down! In the wrong hands it'd be as good as a death sentence." Draco paused. "Get off the bed. You look like an imbecile."
Harry lithely jumped down. "She can't write down her questions but she can write down that she wants to hear what it's really like to serve Voldemort?"
"Of course she can't! I'm reading between the lines, as usual, though of course I realise that concept is a bit of a stretch for a Gryffindor!" Draco retorted.
"I'm Slytherin too, as you take such pains to point out to my Gryffindor friends!"
"Then just read it!" Draco erupted. "Go on. I won't object this time."
Harry gave his brother a suspicious glance, then looked down at the letter. There was no salutation or closing; just a single long paragraph of text filled with writing that reminded Harry of those essays from the lower forms he'd spent so much time correcting.
I think about what you've written all the time. I feel so bad now about that night in Slytherin. I wish now I'd listened better, because I can think of any number of things I should have asked. It's hard for me to believe it was really that bad, you know, what you saw that night. but you keep saying the problem wasn't that it was bad for him but that it was bad for us... you know, that didn't used to make any sense to me, but now some things have got me thinking more about it, more about everything you've spent months trying to get through to us. I've been wondering for a while if I should just talk to you about it, all of it, because the letters just have too many limitations, you know? And besides, I remember when we used to talk. Maybe I just miss it. Even after everything that's happened... you know, I must have written this letter a dozen times over the past few days, trying to get it just right... I guess what I'm trying to say is I really want to see you. Its just after last class now. I'll send this, then go to that old, unused supply closet where we used to... well, you know the one I mean. I'll wait twenty minutes. If you don't come... well, you know how you keep writing all of us about what makes for true strength, true power? If you don't come, I'll know that your recent choices have made you weak, not strong. We'll all know.
"Twenty minutes," Draco emphasised, flicking his hand toward the ghostly little clock that was still ticking away. "I have to get going."
"You're not going anywhere," Harry scowled, shoving the letter deep into a trouser pocket. "Write her that if she's so desperate to talk, she can come here to do it."
Draco gnashed his teeth. "She won't, Potter. Nobody will risk being seen hanging about this corridor, not after what Snape did for you at Samhain! Too much Death Eater gossip running rampant through the dungeons. I told Severus ages ago that I had to go to them. And if I don't go when Pansy asks me, she'll think it's because I'm afraid to sneak out! She'll tell people that it's only cowards who leave the Dark Lord's service, and believe me, the ones who are still loyal to him will milk that for all it's worth!"
"It's not a matter of cowardice," Harry carefully said. "Severus told me that you were too smart to leave his rooms without permission."
"Oh, nice try at manipulation," Draco sneered. "Remind me to give you some lessons later in how it's done. Listen, I've been working on Pansy for a while now because she's a lot like me, not about to sign up as a slave once she knows that's what it really is--"
"I thought you were owling the half-bloods and Muggleborns in Slytherin!"
"Well I started with them like Severus said, but they are in the minority, you know! And besides, is it wrong of me to want to save a few purebloods from a fate worse than death? The more potential allies I can steal from the Dark Lord, the better!"
"All right, fine," Harry bit out, because that wasn't the issue. "How do you know this letter isn't some ruse to lure you out there and kill you?"
"I know Pansy, all right? I know her really well!"
"You know her so well that she loosed a snake on you!"
"Yeah, well if I'd had a better grip on my impulse control and hadn't fucked it all up by telling Slytherin too much, too soon, she wouldn't have!"
"You're having an impulse control problem right now!" Harry shouted. "Stop and think, would you? It could be a trap! It could be Lucius standing in that supply closet waiting for you! Or Voldemort himself, for that matter!"
"For fuck's sake, Harry! This is the chance I've been waiting for all along! I keep telling Severus I need to see these people in person to influence them!"
"You're not leaving, and that's final!" Harry grabbed his brother's arm for good measure, determined to keep him there by force if necessary. What he really needed, of course, was for his father to come deal with this. Severus would know what to say --or do-- to a stubborn Slytherin. Snape wasn't Head of Slytherin for nothing.
With that thought in mind, Harry started dragging his brother toward the bedroom door so he could get them both to the fireplace in the living room. He'd hang onto Draco with one hand and toss the Floo powder in with the other--
Good plan, but Draco was a better Muggle fighter than he used to be; he'd obviously been listening to the Potion Master's advice out in Devon about how to free oneself from an assailant. One quick twist of his wrist, one rapid downward jerk, and Draco had shaken Harry off, the whole manoeuvre over so fast it seemed almost effortless. The Slytherin boy started to stalk away.