"Psyche," Snape dryly corrected.
"Right, psyche," murmured Draco as he returned his attention to Dobby, who by then was looking marginally less suspicious. "Well, maybe someday you'll believe that I am loyal to Harry Potter. But whether that ever happens or not, I am sorry I made you ill. And I know this can't make up for it, not in any way, but I have something I'd like to give you." With that, Draco was pulling his hands out of his pockets. One of them emerged holding a small box wrapped in silver paper.
Dobby was slow to take it. Actually, he looked a bit as though he thought it might be hexed, which reminded Harry of how he'd felt himself, months ago. He knew what it was like to have Draco claim reform and offer gifts, so maybe he should be a tad more understanding about Dobby's reluctance to believe a word Draco said.
Eventually--probably because he trusted Harry and Snape, not Draco, Harry thought--the elf grasped the box in his bony hands. He didn't unwrap it, though. He merely looked at it, causing the box and wrappings both to vanish away.
When the glittering remnants of the spell faded, what remained in his palm was a tiny scarf knitted in Slytherin colours.
"It's mine, spelled down to fit you," Draco explained when the elf lifted a confused face. "Because that was cunning, Dobby, your thinking to go get Harry when you knew I was in trouble. I know you did it for Harry and not me, but I'm still grateful for it. I probably can't thank you enough... but anyway, I want you to keep using all your cunning to do what's best for Harry, all right? Because we're both on his side, which means we're on the same side."
Dobby didn't answer, though he did add the scarf to the others that were slung about his neck. He glanced once at Harry, then over at Snape, then finally back at Draco. "Dobby will be going now, Master Malfoy."
Draco stood up and nodded, his silver gaze distant, but the moment Dobby had Disapparated, the boy flopped back down to the couch and scowled. "Well, that was certainly difficult. Though I suppose I should have expected it to be."
"You did well," said Snape, leaving his position by the mantle.
Draco's pale features flushed slightly. "I... yes, well... thank you, Severus."
The Potions Master's gaze took in both his sons. "Shall we have a game of Wizard's Scrabble?"
"I'm not caught up on all my assignments," Draco refused. "And I'm supposed to ask for those back tests tomorrow, so..."
"You just have a little too much quizzex," Harry said with a straight face.
Draco looked startled, then smiled slightly. "Well, better too much than too little, you know. You've been in class listening to the professors blather, though. Do you want to help me study?"
"Sure."
"I'm quite certain none of your instructors blather," Snape said in a chiding tone.
"Aran," said Draco and Harry in unison.
"Ah. Well, perhaps he does," admitted their father with a shrug.
"Why doesn't Dumbledore hire a decent Defence teacher?" Harry asked, frustrated by Aran's continuing refusal to allow any nasty Parseltongue in his classroom. "Aran's useless! He's... he's pathetic!"
"He can't hire a decent Defence teacher, Harry," Snape explained in a heavy tone. "Surely you've realised by now that the position itself is under a curse of enormous proportions."
"Yeah, one year per teacher." Harry sighed. "So something else would have kept Remus from keeping the position, I suppose, if you hadn't gone and told your students about him being a werewolf."
"Quite likely." When Harry sighed again, Snape's eyebrows drew slightly together. "Are you having some particular difficulty with Professor Aran, Harry?"
"Oh, no," lied Harry, determined to handle things himself. "And even if I was, you know, I wouldn't want to have you intervene. Nobody else has a dad on staff, and there are already too many things about me that set me apart--"
"Nobody else?" echoed Draco, his voice haughty. "Did I hear you correctly?"
Harry lightly pushed against his brother's shoulder. "All right, fine. Nobody but you. But it's still not typical, you know."
"Well I for one am very pleased to have my father on staff. Typical or no."
"You prat. I'm glad too and you know it!"
"As long as I don't intervene in your course programme, apparently," Snape dryly put in.
"Yeah, as long as," Harry agreed, making a slight face.
Snape stared at him for a moment, then shrugged and said he would be in his office if either of them needed anything.
------------------------------------------------------
Nott kept trying to get himself paired with Harry in all the classes they shared. Harry let him about half the time; after all, Nott still might know something useful. And whether he did or not, he was definitely easing Harry's entrance into Slytherin. He more-or-less forced the other students to tolerate it when Harry occasionally joined them for a meal. It was like he wanted Harry to think well of him.
Since Harry had seen that all before, from Draco, who had in fact been sincere about the whole thing, Harry was left thinking that Nott might be for real, too.
He didn't really believe that, though. Some deep instinct kept telling him that Nott's story about the plague didn't really add up, and that Nott seemed just a little too eager for his friendship.
It was a balancing act, keeping Nott at a distance while letting the other boy think he was gaining Harry's trust.
It was also a balancing act trying to make sure he spent enough free time with both his friends and his family. Of course, he'd just had an entire week with Draco and Snape, and he was supposed to see them again on Wednesday night so they could all go to Draco's first therapy session. But going down on his own... that was a little different. Harry was pretty sure that Draco would feel slighted if the only time he saw Harry was when Harry had to.
So Tuesday night after Potions class, Harry hung back so that he could walk home with his father. Actually, he wanted to ask if they could Floo instead, but he thought it was probably a bad idea. Draco might take it as Harry showing off that he was allowed to while Draco wasn't.
Harry didn't want to do anything that might send Draco's attitude to what it had been before the poisoning. He'd been impressed by how well his brother had handled that apology to Dobby, and he wanted to help Draco stay in a positive frame of mind.
At first, everything at home seemed fine. Draco and he went over some assignments together and Harry was pleased to learn that his brother was just about caught up in all his subjects. When dinner appeared--roast chicken with mash--Draco ate it without complaint. That was good. Harry had been half afraid the other boy would have something scathing to say about Snape's rules restricting their ordering via the Floo.
It was after dinner when things got a bit dicey. Snape reached into his pocket and drew forth a letter.
"From Gringotts," Draco breathed, running his hands over and over the envelope as though it were made of finest silk and just touching it was a pleasure.
Snape nodded, the motion stiff and stern. "When you've read it, we will need to talk, Draco."
Uh-oh. It sounded to Harry like their father had reservations about Draco's new vault. And no wonder, considering the circumstances. Draco might not have killed Walpurgis, but his mother had done it for no better reason than to get him some money, and that made the whole thing pretty icky, at least in Harry's eyes.
"Oh, I won't be buying shirts with diamond buttons, Severus," laughed Draco, his eyes sparkling so much they might well be diamonds. "You made it clear enough that day in Hogsmeade that no son of yours will be...what were your words? Given to public extravagance. Don't worry about it."
"I have another matter to broach with you."
Draco bounced up and down on his heels. "Well, let me just read this then and find out how much I've got." With that, he was ripping open the letter and scanning it.