"When you've seen your therapist a few times we can revisit the matter," the Potions Master announced, his dark eyes pleased.
"Yes, sir," Draco said again.
Snape looked a bit as though he was trying not to sigh. Draco saw that, Harry felt sure. He wasn't quite sure why the other boy was being so overtly respectful. At least it wasn't open sarcasm, but Harry couldn't help but feel there was some amount of rebellion mixed up in it somewhere.
But Snape had evidently decided not to make an issue of the matter, so Harry didn't say anything about it either.
After they had arrived back at Hogwarts, Snape consulted a letter which had Flooed in during their absence. "Ah, good. Draco's first session with the therapist has been scheduled." He glanced up. "In deference to my teaching duties and the fact that Draco can't travel unaccompanied, she's arranged for evening sessions. Quite good of her, really."
Harry bit his tongue to keep from laughing. He wondered how much longer Snape planned to go on making a pun of the psychiatrist's name. Or how long it would take Draco to notice, perhaps.
"So when do I get to spill my guts?" Draco asked in a tone that was so thoroughly pleasant it had to be fake. "To a squib, no less."
"There's nothing wrong with squibs, Draco," Harry said.
Nothing wrong? Harry saw Draco mouth.
"They can't help not having magic any more than you can help being stuck-up prat," Harry explained, mimicking the pleasant tone Draco had used the moment before.
"You mustn't insult the good doctor," Snape put in. "Particularly not to her face, though I would also prefer you limit your comments in general to those that might actually serve some purpose."
When the Potions Master turned his back, Draco stuck out his tongue. "When, though?" he pressed after a moment.
"Oh, Wednesday at seven," answered Snape as he walked toward his office.
"Dad," Harry called. "The Express isn't back yet, is it?"
"No, not until later today," said Snape, turning around.
"So can I... um, use the Floo to get back to the Tower?"
Snape raised an eyebrow. "You are so tired of our company already?"
Harry smiled. "No, but if I sleep here and you walk me to breakfast, I won't have the books I need. I'm pretty sure you don't want Slytherin losing points because I went to Charms unprepared."
"Floo up and get your books and Floo right back," he instructed.
"He just wants to use the Floo!" Draco pointed out. "How long until I get to use it again, that's what I'd like to know--"
"When you've earned the privilege."
By then, Harry was feeling like he shouldn't have brought the Floo up at all. But he had, so... "I need some powder--"
Snape handed some over without comment.
"Back in a flash-"
"Actually, I do believe it would be best if you took your time," answered Snape. He glanced at Draco, who gave a heavy sigh.
"Thanks, but Harry can see. Better that he does, really."
"See what?"
Another long sigh. "Me, apologising to your house-elf friend."
Harry did want to see that, but since he figured it was probably wrong to feel that way, he offered, "Oh, no--"
"Oh yes," countered Draco. "I don't want you wondering if I really did it, or if I was sarcastic about it or something. Anyway, Severus was going to let you see me putting the poison in the icing, remember? And I'm sure you can visualise it even if you never actually saw, so... I do want you to see me doing something... well, good."
Harry nodded. He wanted to see Draco doing something good, too.
------------------------------------------------------
Snape summoned Dobby as he had before.
The elf's eyes were wide as he glanced around. He clearly didn't know why he'd been called, not this time. "Harry Potter is needing something?"
"No, I am," said Draco quite distinctly, each word clipped as if he wasn't quite sure it was the one he needed.
At that, Dobby's eyes narrowed. "Dobby is a free house-elf. Dobby is not bound to the Malfoys--"
"Yes, I know that." Draco cleared his throat. "I... would you like to sit down, er... Dobby?"
The elf's huge ears flattened down against his head as he said in tones of deep suspicion, "Master Malfoy is wanting Dobby to be sitting?"
Harry remembered then what Dobby had said of the Malfoys years ago, about how horribly they treated their elf-servants.
"Yes, next to me." Draco seated himself on the couch then, and waved to the place alongside him.
Dobby moved slowly and hopped up to perch on the edge of the couch. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he repeated in a stubborn tone, "Dobby is a free house-elf. Dobby does not have to do what Master Malfoy is wanting."
"No, no you don't." Draco dragged in a breath, his gaze seeking out Snape, who was leaning against the mantle, simply watching. "You're a free elf. I understand that. I... Actually, all I want is for you to listen to me for a bit, but if you'd rather leave right now, I'll respect your decision."
Perhaps it was the mention of respect that did it, but Dobby's stiff shoulders relaxed a fraction, then. "Dobby can be listening."
Draco curled a wry lip as though he'd hoped Dobby would refuse and let him off the hook.
"Master Malfoy?"
"Maybe you could call me Draco," the Slytherin boy said. "That other... it's not even my name any longer."
"Dobby is knowing that Master Malfoy is Harry Potter's adopted brother," said Dobby, twisting his fingers together as though the whole thing still worried him terribly.
"Right, yes. The thing is..." Draco swallowed. "I had to do a lot of thinking over the last week, Dobby. And... um, the Venetimorica, that was really a Malfoy-ish thing for me to do, and I wish I hadn't done it. And... I'm really sorry you got sick on my account. And I know I said before that I apologised, but this time I really do mean it. I'm very sorry I let anybody get poisoned like that, Dobby. And... well, I hope you can forgive me."
Dobby's eyebrows arched upward. "Master Malfoy is asking a house-elf to be forgiving him?"
"Draco is asking. Draco Snape. Will you accept my apology?"
Dobby frowned, his eyes reproaching Harry as he said, "I will be doing whatever Harry Potter is wanting."
Harry was tempted to intervene then, and tell Dobby to forgive Draco, but that was sort of like Snape's having forced an apology out of Draco in the first place. Forgiveness, like apologies, had to be freely given if it was to mean anything.
"It's between you and Draco, Dobby."
Dobby sat silent, his lack of answer to Draco's question an answer in itself.
"I understand if you can't forgive me," said Draco finally, shaking his head. "Because it's not just this last thing. That only confirmed your opinion of me, I'm sure. You saw me growing up, saw the things I did, how I treated the elves in the manor... All right, that makes sense. But Dobby, it's only recently that I've started to really grow up. I..." Draco shoved his hands into his pockets. "It's only now that I have a father worthy of respect that I can see how bad it is to emulate Lucius."
The elf pursed his lips, his eyes troubled. "The pumpkin doesn't grow far from the vine, Master Malfoy."
So much for it being between Draco and Dobby, Harry thought. "That's an awful thing to say, Dobby! And would you stop calling him that? It's not his name!"
"If Harry Potter is wishing to trust his brother, Dobby cannot be preventing it. But Dobby is knowing better. Dobby is knowing Malfoys--"
"Dobby--"
"No, Harry," interrupted Draco. "The truth is, Dobby knows a lot more about me than you ever have. And he's a free house-elf; you can't tell him what to think. And I have a longer way to go than I used to think... to banish Lucius from my... um, psycho."