"Well, if so I take back what I said about him being a lout."
"I'm going to see Dudley over the summer and you're going to be nice," Harry said, turning around to look at Draco.
"Now when have I ever not been nice, Harry?"
Harry smiled wryly. "A couple of times?"
"Once. Maybe."
Harry smiled more widely. "Yes, well, that's all behind us. And there's something I've been meaning to say. About the money thing. I know, it has to be hard... but you're taking it really well."
"Hmm, well whinging on has a certain appeal, I will admit," Draco airily admitted. "Imagine how miserable I could make everyone. But... I think I've probably exhausted your patience already, what with the expulsion and the adoption and my... hmm, attitude lately."
"True." Harry laughed, "but if you want to whinge, I'll still listen."
"I'll keep that in mind." Draco cracked a smile of his own. "But I'm trying to be mature. Remember?"
"Yeah. You know, I remember starting this year thinking I'd try that, too. And then... it all just got away from me."
Draco shrugged. "You do all right, Harry. But... you don't have to try so hard with Severus all the time. That good son thing you do. Maybe it's not all about showing me up; I don't know. Maybe you're just worried still, about losing him. You did say it was your biggest fear. But you couldn't get rid of him if you tried." A strange look crossed his face. "Trust me on that. I know."
They stood in silence for a while after that, Harry thinking over what Draco had said, until a new voice echoed from behind them.
"Harry, have you had enough time here?"
"I think so, Dad," Harry said, glancing once more at the space where the cupboard used to be. He felt odd. Like things had come full circle now, and there was a chance to start again and get it right. He turned his back on the stairway, and smiled over towards where their father was standing. "Yeah, I'm done." And then, to the side, "Thanks, Draco."
His brother inclined his head before leading the way out of Number Four.
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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other
Chapter Eighty-Five: The Dark Mark Returns
Comments very welcome,
Aspen
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Chapter 85: The Dark Mark Returns
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=5036&chapter=85
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A Year Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter Eighty-Five: The Dark Mark Returns
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"Professor, could I have a word?" asked Harry a couple of week later after Transfiguration class.
"What is it, Potter?" asked McGonagall, peering over her spectacles in a way that reminded Harry of Dumbledore.
"It's about Defence class," Harry began. "Professor Aran said that--"
"If you're having difficulties with another instructor I suggest you take it up with him." McGonagall briskly tapped a pile of finished student work to make the scrolls roll themselves up more tightly. "Now, if there's nothing else I have a prior engagement this evening, Potter."
She meant an Order meeting, Harry knew. Snape had mentioned it the night before when Harry had gone down to dinner. He'd also mentioned that the meeting didn't start until about nine o'clock, by which time he would have returned from escorting Draco to Surrey for his Wednesday evening therapy session.
"I think you have enough time to talk with me. And before you just send me back to Aran, you should know that he was the one who sent me to you."
"That'll be quite enough cheek," rebuked his teacher. "So then, tell me what you've done."
"This isn't going well," Harry remarked dryly. "I haven't done anything, Professor. I just wanted to ask you a favour, is all. We're having a test in Defence tomorrow and I wondered if you could come mark me."
Well, at least he'd got her to stop making assumptions. Now she was staring at him, instead. "Surely your Defence teacher should be the one assessing your progress."
"Yeah," Harry said, hating this. But there was no hope for it. "It's like this. Professor Aran, he hates Parseltongue and he won't let me use it during class or in front of him. He says it's nasty. So I've been doing all my spell work outside of class time--"
"And what do you do during class time, pray tell?"
Harry swallowed. "Um, get knocked on my arse, mostly. Well, when we're doing practical work anyway."
Her voice softened marginally. "What does Severus have to say about all this?"
"Uh, not much," hedged Harry.
He should have known that McGonagall would be wise to that trick. "You really ought to tell him, Harry."
"I don't want to run complaining to my father every time I have a problem with another teacher."
"But you've no hesitation to complain to me?"
Harry shifted on his feet. "Well I wouldn't say that. I've been dealing with it on my own for weeks. And I'm not complaining. I have an agreement with Aran, that's all--"
"Professor Aran, Harry."
"Right, yes," said Harry, sighing. "So anyway, Professor Aran agreed I could take my practical tests in Parseltongue as long as another teacher came to mark me."
"How did you get him to agree to that, if he thinks Parseltongue is so terrible?"
Harry winced. "Um... I said I had to have a good mark to qualify for the Auror's program, so if he made it impossible to pass his class I'd have no choice but to tell my father about the whole thing."
McGonagall, Harry saw, looked amused. "I see that snake on your crest isn't merely decorative."
"No... the Sorting Hat suggested Slytherin before Gryffindor, actually."
"Yes, Severus mentioned as much. Hard to imagine," murmured McGonagall. "Well, be that as it may, Potter, don't you think that he would be more qualified to judge your Defence skills?"
"You're qualified enough," Harry muttered. "Will you help me, Professor?"
"I'd much rather take Aaron Aran to task than enable him to continue inflicting his base prejudice on you," McGonagall said, her voice hardening.
Aaron Aran? If the situation hadn't been so serious, Harry might have smiled at that. "I'd really rather you just come mark my spells," Harry said, cringing a little at the pleading sound of his own voice. "If you have it out with Professor Aran, my father will hear, I'm sure. And he'll probably fillet Professor Aran. Really, it's not so bad. I mean, class with him is actually a big step up from Dolores Umbridge."
Without realising it, Harry moved one hand over the other so he could hide the scar he'd got the year before.
"Oh, Harry." McGonagall shook her head, her eyes rueful. "You've really had a time, haven't you? Well, I personally think you should tell Severus about this, or failing that, allow me to do the honours. But if you're truly determined to handle the matter on your own, then I'll come mark you, yes."
"Thank you ma'am," Harry said sincerely. It felt like a crushing weight had just been lifted from his chest and he could breathe again. Aran was fated to only last a few more weeks, anyway, and maybe for seventh-year Defence he'd get a teacher who could stand Parseltongue. So what did it matter, really?