"I don't know," Draco murmured, still compelled to be utterly truthful.
"Go rest, Draco," Snape instructed, then watched, his dark gaze troubled as the boy nodded, walked away, and shut his door.
"Can I have a copy of your report?" Harry asked Kingsley. "I'd like to show it to a couple of friends."
"A copy will be placed in his student file. As your father's on staff I imagine he could allow you access to it. Just so you know, Tonks and I will be applying some creative editing to parts of the Veritaserum transcript. I think it's best to eliminate all reference to him meeting Parkinson on the day of the murder. Too much fodder for speculation. Tell Malfoy that his testimony matches yours. He was here all day with you."
Harry nodded. "Good.... So, are you going to put a good word in for him? You see now, don't you? He's not what you thought."
"Potter, if and when Draco Malfoy applies to the Aurors' program, I'll speak my mind. And in the meantime, I'll keep my eye on him. That's the best I can do."
"All right. Um, what about Lucius Malfoy? Will he finally be charged for what he did to me on Samhain? You've got several witnesses now; you've got an account of the whole thing given under truth serum--"
Harry stopped speaking because Snape was giving him a rather stern look. "What? That wasn't disrespectful, was it?"
"No. We'll speak about it after the Aurors leave."
Taking the hint, Harry fell silent, though he listened carefully as Snape saw the Aurors out.
"Have Albus read the transcript in full and suggest edits," the Potions Master was quietly urging them. "Make sure you excise everything he wants left out. There's quite a lot at stake, though I'm sure you realise I can't explain further."
Kingsley nodded and shook Snape's hand, then left. Tonks shrugged lightly but then she shook the Potions Master's hand as well.
The minute the door closed, automatically warding them in with silencing spells, Harry blurted, "Don't you want Malfoy to stand trial for what he did to me? Bloody hell, I'm half-blind now and it's not Draco's fault at all, it's his--"
Snape drew his wand and warded the door to the boys' bedroom so that Draco couldn't hear anything further. "I want Lucius dead or in Azkaban for what he did to you, make no mistake," he said, eyes narrowed with anger. "I want him to kill him myself, Harry, to burn him alive as you once threatened to do. But think. Think strategically! What good is Lupin's masquerade if Lucius is publicly convicted for the atrocities he's committed?"
Harry chewed his lip. "I'm not used to all this cloak-and-dagger stuff. I guess I should get used to it. So that's why he's never been charged? I sort of figured it was the way he practically owns half the people who work for the Ministry."
"You exaggerate, though it would be unwise to underestimate his influence, certainly." Walking to the Floo, Snape threw some powder in and called through for a pot of tea. Only when he was seated with a cup in hand, watching Harry serve himself, did he resume speaking. "You must understand, Harry. For a long while after Samhain I was utterly caught up in healing you physically, and then in arranging the blood wards here and trying to understand your rather Gryffindor needs. I wanted Lucius brought to justice but I wondered if being forced to relive Samhain at a trial would be the best thing for you." Snape sighed and sipped his tea. "I let Albus put me off, but in retrospect I can see that his excuses were vapid, feeble things. Had I been less focused on you, I would have guessed he had some scheme underway regarding Lucius."
Hearing the apology that Snape really hadn't said, Harry put a hand on his father's knee and squeezed lightly. "It's all right. I didn't blame you that he wasn't sent to Azkaban. I just figured it was one of those things." He thought Snape still looked upset about how he'd handled the matter back then, so Harry went on, "Listen, I don't like Lucius out making trouble, but maybe Remus can make enough trouble for him to make it worthwhile. And I can't complain about your focusing on me, can I? I've... well, I'd never really had that before. I needed it, and you did a good job of it, too. All the more so, now that I understand you better."
Snape looked tired as he glanced up, his eyes hooded. "What do you understand?"
Harry thought about that for a minute. "It goes back to Gryffindor needs, like you said. Draco makes sense to you because you've been there. You know what it's like to think that someone's just using the word love to get you to be what they want. But after you got to know me, after you knew about the Dursleys, you could tell I needed to hear it even if you weren't very used to saying it." Harry drank his own tea for a bit, then set his cup down. "You know what I think?"
"I suspect I will in a minute."
Harry laughed. "Yeah, you will. It seems to me that you're good at whatever you put your mind to. Potions Master, that speaks for itself. And spy. And becoming a father to Draco and me, messed up as we are. And when you really wanted to teach me Occlumency, I mean when you weren't doing it because your arm was being twisted, you were fantastic. In fact you should teach it to Draco. Anyway, that's what I think."
Snape set his own cup down with a little more force than was warranted. "I am not a fool. That is not all you think. You are getting at something."
Harry thought about denying it, then decided that his father really would listen to anything when they were alone. Standing up, he stretched before admitting, "It's just that you could be a really good teacher if you put your mind to that, Severus. But don't worry, you won't hear one word of complaint from me in class. Promise."
"You're not as far removed from Draco as you think," Snape murmured.
"Come again?"
Rising to his feet, Snape crossed the distance separating them and looked intently down at his son. "You don't view love as manipulation, but somewhere deep down you do suspect it's conditional. How could you not, with the way those... the Dursleys, treated you? Harry, I trust you not to take this as license, but if you offend me we will get through it. You don't have to be perfect."
"I know." Harry sighed then, stepping close enough so that he could lean against his father. Snape's arms came around to hold him, which helped him admit, "When I was little I did try really hard to be perfect. I wanted Aunt Petunia to like me, but I couldn't be good enough to make it happen. Well, of course not. I couldn't get rid of the magic, I see that now. It's kind of funny when you think about it. She didn't have any logical excuse for caring so much if I was a wizard. But you... you had every reason in the world to want me to stay magical, but you loved me even though I'd lost my powers. That's pretty much unconditional."
He felt Snape lightly patting his back. "Perhaps you understand rather more than I thought."
If he did, it was because Snape had put himself out to meet those Gryffindor needs, Harry thought. He didn't say that though; there was no cause. He knew what Snape had done for him, and Snape knew that he knew... and that was enough for the moment. He wriggled a bit so his father would let him go, then grinned. "If I need to understand still more I'm sure I can learn by experience, eh?"
"Cheeky," was Snape's reply to that, but his dark eyes looked pleased. "I'm of a mind to let Draco rest. He'll need it after being subjected to that sludge the Ministry has the effrontery to term Veritaserum. Why don't you set the menu for all of us, Harry, and cast a warming charm over his portion?"
Harry nodded, and then because he thought Draco deserved something special, he told the kitchens they all wanted gigot d'agneau ‡ la provenÃale with crËme brulÈe for dessert.