Snape inclined his head. "Someone in addition to Lucius was involved in the plot, then. He would not make such a mistake."
"Indeed not," the headmaster calmly agreed. "And this other person is not a Death Eater, or at least, not one of long standing. It is a wizard who has no true sense of your expertise, who never saw you in your capacity as Voldemort's Potion Master."
Harry flinched a little bit, hating hearing his father described that way.
"A student then, or several," Snape announced, shrugging off Harry's hand to sneer, "Students who thought they could rub a few herbs across Draco's teeth and lips to mask the scent of Somulus. We were all meant to think he had run away, and lost consciousness en route."
"So it seems," the headmaster concurred.
Harry sat down on his bed then, and regarded both the adults. "So that's it? Lucius' plan is foiled? We can prove Draco's been framed?"
"We have no direct proof whatsoever that Draco was hexed," Snape reminded him. "The perpetrator covered his... or her... tracks too well for that."
"Yeah, but what about the Somulus?"
Snape glared briefly. "It has been metabolised. We've nothing but my testimony which will be regarded as partisan if not biased."
"But... he's still comatose! That must count for something!"
"Not unless we can prove how he got that way."
Harry huffed. "Well, there's no real proof against Draco, either," he announced in a loud voice, resolved that he'd never mention the map to a soul. "So, I'll just convince Ron and Hermione not to say anything about him leaving the rooms--"
"Good luck with that endeavour," Snape muttered, moving his hands to clasp both of Draco's.
"Listen, I know you hate Gryffindors on principle but my friends aren't so bad--"
"Your friends know Draco to be responsible for your black eye," Snape snapped. "And pray tell, what did high-minded Miss Granger do the last time she suspected you were being... mistreated here? Not to mention that Weasley's antagonism for Draco is evident in his every word! I think it will suit both your friends admirably to see Draco locked away where he can never, ever threaten you again!"
The headmaster cleared his throat. "Ah... so Mr. Malfoy threatens you, does he, Harry?"
"No, he's been great," Harry retorted, his tone short.
The headmaster peered at him over the top of his half-moon glasses, his gaze inscrutable.
"Look, he's not perfect," Harry admitted. "He's full of himself and irritating as hell sometimes, and yeah, you've seen my eye. But that's just... um, normal brothers stuff. You have to believe me, Professor Dumbledore! Whatever happened to... Pansy, it was Lucius' doing. Or someone else's. It's not Draco who killed her, it's just not."
"Unfortunately," Snape drawled, "the conspirators will provide proof to the contrary. Draco's wand is missing."
Harry gasped.
"You might have mentioned that earlier," the headmaster pointed out.
The Potions Master glared. "I ascertained its loss while I was in Hagrid's hut with the boy, but since then I have been rather occupied with other matters, Albus!"
His palms sweating, Harry tried to reason his way out of a mire. "But can't we use that to prove that Draco's been... um, tampered with? I mean, come on! He wouldn't lose his wand! It's obviously been taken--"
Dumbledore's quiet voice broke across Harry's objections. "The presumption, I am afraid, will be that in a moment of panic after killing the girl, Draco dropped his wand."
"He didn't kill her."
Harry was pretty depressed when the headmaster said nothing to that, but he didn't have long to consider it. Snape's posture all at once went rigid, his black eyes studying the boy on the bed more intently. "I thought I saw--"
"What?" Harry pressed. "What?"
The Potions Master leaned forward, his hands shaking slightly as he lay them on Draco's chest. "Thank Merlin! He's beginning to stir, I do believe." He hovered over the boy for a moment more, then, as if aware it might be better to give Draco some room, Snape moved back and beckoned for Harry to come stand alongside him.
"Oh God," Harry moaned, a sick feeling roiling up through his belly. He tried to kill the sensation with a heady dose of hope. "What's it been, only about ten, fifteen minutes since you gave him the antidote? That's pretty quick, right? That must mean there won't be any... uh, brain damage like you said?"
"It all depends on the type of hex used on him," Snape tightly reminded him. "If it encompassed a degree of mind control, we can expect there to be... ramifications."
The headmaster cleared his throat, all at once sounding a bit regretful. "Oh, my word. Imperius and Somulus... yes, that would be an exceedingly bad combination."
"To say the least," Snape murmured, his eyes growing more worried the longer he stared at his ailing son.
All at once, Draco's breathing hitched, his mouth opening as he began gasping for air. He pulled in one breath, two, three... and then his body seemed to adjust and he began breathing regularly, his chest moving up and down in an encouraging rhythm.
Harry couldn't stand it. "Come on, Draco, come on. Wake up!," he whispered, the sound intense. "It'll be all right, Severus and I will stand by you..."
The Potions Master leaned an arm across Harry's shoulders and pulled him close as they watched and waited for some sign that Draco would indeed pull through this all right.
Another moment passed. An eternity.
Then Draco's fingers twitched, his feet moving ever so slightly as he seemed to come to an awareness that he was awake, that he was alive...
Without any warning whatsoever, the Slytherin boy lunged upwards on the bed to sit bolt upright, and from between his lips came the most appalling scream Harry had heard in years.
"Ow, shite, owww!" Draco yelled the minute he was lucid enough to start screaming in words. "Get it off, get it off!" His hands began scrabbling at the back of his neck, frantically jerking at something until with one frenzied motion, he yanked something over his head and flung it to the floor, where it lay a dusky blue against the grey stones.
A turquoise blue.
And yet Draco still screamed, his hands now tearing at his shirt. A couple of buttons popped free as he struggled with it.
"Calm yourself!" Snape insisted, raising his voice. "Whatever is the matter?"
"That fucking amulet burned me to a crisp, that's what!" Draco yelled, his angry gaze seeking out Harry. "You didn't tell me it would get that hot, did you! Some Christmas present that turned out to be--" Then he seemed to notice Harry's appearance. "Oh, shite. Sorry about your eye."
Recriminations could wait, Harry thought. "The amulet heated up when you..." Oh God, the headmaster was still there, listening to every word, so Harry hardly wanted to admit that Draco had not only gotten a letter from Pansy but had actually left the rooms to go meet her...
As it turned out, the cat was let out of the bag by Draco himself. He hadn't yet seen the headmaster, who was behind him now that Draco was sitting up in bed.
"Is Pansy all right?" he gasped, his voice turning urgent.
Snape glanced at Harry, as though in warning to let him handle this.
"Why do you ask?" the Potions Master inquired, no hint in his tone that the girl was in fact dead.
Draco shook, his hands clenching the coverlet as he detailed, "Because they hexed her, too! Is she all right?"
"They," Snape pressed. "To whom do you refer?"
"I don't know!" Draco yelled. "Tell me about Pansy! She had the most awful look on her face! We were in the closet, and the door behind me opened... Look, all I know is that the damned amulet blazed to life just as I saw yellow jets of fire hit her. And before I could even turn around, I felt them hit me, too, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up here! So where is she?"