When Draco said nothing, Harry suspected he was trying to work out how much of that he could believe. Or perhaps he was merely wondering what had happened to the card he'd forged.
"Mmm, asparagus quiche," Draco said as his food winked into existence. He began studiously avoiding looking at the centre of the table, Harry noticed. "What did you get, Harry? Meatloaf again?" Draco screwed up his features in disdain. "With wilted salad."
"It's not wilted." Harry pushed his fork against it to prove his point. The crisp Romaine made a crackling noise.
"Well it's not a proper starter, is it, coming with your main course like that."
Surprisingly enough, Draco didn't follow up that comment with scathing commentary on Harry's upbringing. Or perhaps it wasn't so surprising. Draco had apparently already vented his day's quota of viciousness, Harry thought darkly.
"Some of us have more important things than meals on our minds," he began, only to blink in shock when Snape kicked him under the table. At least it wasn't a hard kick, but still!
"What Harry means," the Potions Master smoothly inserted, "is that he's worried about his detention."
"Filch, huh?" Draco gave a mock shudder and poured himself a glass of sparkling water from the decanter that had appeared at his place. "What did you do?"
"Uh..."
"Oh come now," said Snape in a thoroughly pleasant voice. "You can tell your brother, surely. Or perhaps not, considering the dynamic between you two. No? Well, the fact of the matter is that Harry neglected to attend his Potions lesson today."
Draco almost choked on a bit of asparagus. "You skived off Severus' class?"
"I..." The warning look he got from Snape was enough to make him play along, as he'd been told. Though he had no clue where Snape thought this was going. "Yeah, actually I did."
After a few sips of water, Draco began to laugh softly. "The good act began to pall, did it?"
"I wasn't putting on any act!"
"Oh, sure you weren't. You just wanted me to look bad and you know it."
"You sure don't need my help to look bad, do you--" Harry abruptly stopped before he got kicked again.
"Harry does have a point," said Snape as he polished off the last of his salmon mousse. "If he's been putting on a good act, you've certainly done all you could to convince us you're not worthy of the name Snape, haven't you?"
Draco's glance flicked to the centre of the table, but other than that, he didn't give himself away. "I've just been in a bad mood. You get them too, you know. Even Harry wasn't the soul of cheer right after--"
"We're not discussing Harry at the moment," Snape quietly said. "Your behaviour is at issue now. Speaking of which, did you get any lines done today?"
Draco lifted his chin. "No, actually."
"I see. What about your assignments?"
That chin went up yet another notch. "Not a one."
"Pity. Too much more of this and your professors might not bother owling down their lesson schedules, you realise."
Draco shrugged. "I don't have professors. I'm expelled, remember? Anyway, I've been busy."
"I can't imagine with what," murmured Snape, his voice going silky. "Can you, Harry?"
"Uh.... no?"
Draco shot Harry an alarmed glance at that. Was he perhaps worried Harry would mention the personal experiment he'd been working so hard on?
Their main courses arrived at that moment, though Harry of course still just had his meatloaf. Snape stopped questioning Draco then, and began discussing suggested improvements to his cottage in Devon.
When it was time for dessert, though, the conversation again became fraught with tension. As far as Harry could tell--which wasn't far--Snape had been trying to lull Draco into some state of relaxation, even to the point of implying that Harry was in trouble for skiving off class. But now, he went in for the kill.
Lovely confections appeared on the table as their dinner plates vanished. CrËme brulÈe for Harry, a kiwi-laden slice of Pavlova for Snape, and chocolate-dipped cream puffs for Draco. Before anyone could so much as pick up a spoon or fork, however, Snape was waving his wand and banishing it all away, though he left the delicate dessert plates behind.
Or rather, he left Harry and Draco's plates behind. His own had vanished along with his Pavlova. "I don't know what the elves were thinking," he murmured as he tucked his wand away. "You know how seldom I eat dessert. But you two... well, I couldn't imagine you'd want those other confections when we already have these lovely fairy cakes."
For one stark moment, Draco's face drained of colour, and Harry was sure the boy would confess his awful deed. He must have decided, though, that he could still somehow escape unscathed. How he could think that was a mystery to Harry. The horrible poisoned cakes were sitting there right in front of him, an indictment if Harry had ever seen one.
Maybe he thought Snape didn't really know the truth about them. Though that was pretty unlikely, wasn't it? Maybe he was just figuring out what sort of story he could make up to explain them? Harry almost sighed out loud, wishing Draco would just accept the fact that he couldn't lie to save his life.
Snape deftly transfigured his fork into a large serving fork, and neatly transferred a fairy cake to Harry's plate, and then one to Draco's. Sitting back, he gestured rather expansively for them to begin.
Draco picked up his fork, slowly, his gaze darting between Snape and Harry and back.
Harry didn't know what to do, since follow my lead didn't really seem to cover the situation he was in now, but as Snape's eyes glittered with some sort of grim intent, he picked up his fork as well and started to poke at the aquamarine icing atop his fairy cake. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it would bruise his ribs, and he wanted nothing more than to throw his fork--at his father or brother, didn't matter which--but he managed, somehow, to merely look as though he was getting ready to eat his dessert.
Draco had stopped his frantic glances and was now simply staring aghast at Harry.
Proof, as if they needed it, that Draco was as guilty as they came.
And it was time to confess all, surely? That must be what Snape had been working towards... forcing a confession past Draco's reluctant lips. Because Draco certainly wasn't going to let Harry eat poison, was he? And not just any poison, but one as thoroughly nasty as Venetimorica? It wasn't lethal, but that didn't make it any less evil, not in Harry's book.
Or Dobby's, he thought with despair, because he could only toy with his food for so long. A horribly sick feeling rushed into his gut as he realised that Draco wasn't going to say anything, not anything!
To protect his own dirty little secret, he was going to stay silent while Harry ate a forkful of poison!
Harry lifted the fork up from the icing and brought it closer to his lips.
And finally--ha, about damned time, Harry thought--Draco broke.
"Don't eat that!" Draco suddenly shouted, his face splotchy with stress, his eyes almost as wide as Dobby's.
Almost ill with relief that Draco did think of someone besides himself, Harry wasted no time in dropping his fork onto his plate. He wanted to go sick up, and then he wanted to sleep for about three days straight.
"What's gotten into you, Draco?" asked Snape, his voice reflecting nothing but honest puzzlement. Well, not honest puzzlement, thought Harry rather caustically, but it sure did sound authentic. Harry was nearly fooled and he knew the truth! "Why shouldn't Harry eat his cake?"
"Uh..." Obviously thinking fast, Draco blurted, "Because he skived off your class, Severus. Really, you can't reward him for behaviour like that. And uh, I know I've been very ill-mannered lately, so to make things even I'll forego my own dessert as well."