"No--"
"Yes, Draco," insisted Snape. "Do you believe I would deceive you on this account? Or Harry? Mr. Nott confessed under Veritaserum that there was a bargain made. Miss Parkinson would take the love potion so that after sufficient letters had been exchanged, she would be in a position to lure you out. And in return, she wanted one thing."
Draco shoved his shaking hands deep into his pockets, his eyes dulling to the hue of storm clouds. "No."
Harry could tell he'd reached the right conclusion on his own.
"Yes, Draco," Snape said again.
A thin, off-key laugh echoed off the walls as Draco rocked on his heels. "Oh, that's just bloody ridiculous, Severus! Surely you can see that much. Why would Pansy have made a deal where she got to kill me, when the whole fucking point of Nott's plot was to return me to Lucius alive?"
"Nott lied to Pansy, Draco," Harry said, wishing he could do something to help his brother through this. "She wanted to kill you with her bare hands, she was so angry you wouldn't listen to her about going back to Voldemort. And Nott lied and said she could be the one to push you off the Owlery, when all along he planned for her to be shoved off so you could be framed."
Draco looked ill. "Pansy couldn't have wanted to kill me. She... in the closet, that day, the way she kissed me--"
"Draco, that was the potion."
"I... her letters..."
Snape didn't say again that it was the potion. He didn't need to. Draco's eyes were devoid of hope now, and the shade of gunmetal.
And glinting with tears.
"I... I need a shower," he gasped out. "I... I can't talk about this, all right? Not ever. Not ever again."
Standing, Snape went to brace Draco's forearms with his strong hands. "That isn't likely to be a sound approach to your grief."
"I grieved already!" snarled Draco as he yanked his arms out of his father's grasp. "I've done nothing but mourn since they killed her! And now to find out she'd have danced on my grave? I loved her! And she's dead! And what does any of it matter, Severus? You couldn't just leave it be? You had to tell me these horrible things? You couldn't just let me keep thinking somebody really had loved me for once in my life?"
"Oh, Draco," murmured Harry. "We love you, you know that."
"Well, a hell of a lot of good it does me when your idea of love is to smash my dreams all to bits!"
"Mr. Nott was going to do that in any case," Snape said, making no further effort to touch Draco. A wise decision, Harry had to think. By then, Draco was quaking with rage. His hands, still shoved deep into his pockets, looked like they were balled into fists. "It was best to prepare you in advance."
Yeah, the last thing they needed was Draco losing his temper and trying to kill Nott right in front of the Aurors. Tonks had it in for Draco already. She'd probably try to charge him with something if he so much as looked at Nott wrong.
"You could have made sure I didn't have to listen to him," muttered Draco. "You could have let me keep what I thought I had."
"And how would you have taken that, had I told you that Harry would be present during Mr. Nott's interrogation but you were to be excluded?"
Draco slanted Harry a glance. "Not well."
"I'm really sorry, Draco," said Harry. He stood up, but teetered a bit on his feet. "Really, I am."
"Ha. This is your big chance to say you told me so. You thought all along I was an idiot to believe in her."
"Well, I'm sorry she hurt you, anyway."
The other boy made a huffing noise. "Oh, please. Slytherins don't get hurt, Harry. We get even." He held up a hand when it looked like Snape would speak. "But don't worry. I know there's hardly any point in revenge. She's already dead, and the Aurors will get to the bottom of the plot now. Won't they?"
"Yes."
"Nott better get kissed," hissed Draco in a tone that was so hateful it was actually frightening. Here was the boy who had decided to brew poison and hand it out in the form of fairy cakes. "He'd just better. You can talk all day long about how guilty Pansy was as well, but that doesn't excuse him from killing her, not in my book!"
"He'll get the consequence the Ministry deems appropriate," Severus said in a hard tone. "And you will accept it, whatever it may be."
Draco curled his lip and turned on his heel, slamming the bedroom door behind him.
A moment later they heard the noise of the shower beginning to flow. And then the awful noise of Draco singing. Not that he sang badly; his voice was usually quite nice. He liked to brag about how he'd looked up spells to fine-tune his vocal chords.
You couldn't tell now that he'd done any such thing, though. He was belting out some foreign song so loudly and harshly that it sounded a bit like one cat screaming at another. Harry winced, and did his best not to say anything about the horrible noise. Because really, whatever helped Draco vent and feel better had to be worthwhile, right?
At any rate, it was better than having him go looking for a certain dung beetle.
Snape was evidently having similar thoughts. He didn't say a word about the brutal screeching, though he could hardly have failed to note it. Decorum, Harry thought, as his father quietly spoke. "You were allowed to leave the infirmary with the understanding that you'd be just as well-cared for here as there. I do believe you're in need of a long sleep. And perhaps a potion so that any... undue noises won't disturb you?"
"Good idea." Harry yawned; he really was tired. "My hand is starting to hurt some again. I don't suppose you'd dose me with something for that, as well?"
"Not wise at the moment."
"Yeah, habituation. I remember." Harry frowned. "Are you so sure you should be taking Truthful Dreams, Dad?"
When his father nodded, Harry let it go. "When are you planning to do that?"
"As I doubt it would be prudent to leave Draco unsupervised, I'll take him to Albus when he's finished showering. Then I'll proceed."
Harry yawned again. "I don't think Draco's going to appreciate having the headmaster um... babysit him."
"Babysit," said Snape, in the manner of one who had never heard the term before. Then he appeared to shrug that off. "I don't think Draco is in a position to expect me to leave him near Mr. Nott while I slumber."
"You could take Nott into your room with you; Draco can't break past your wards."
"I have learnt, to my chagrin, that it's best not to underestimate your brother's ingenuity."
Venetimorica, thought Harry. Right.
It was sort of nice, he decided a few minutes later, to be fussed over. Well, once in a while at least. Snape brought him in his sleeping draught and also tucked him in.
And all the while, they could still hear Draco belting out some hideous Italian song, sounding like the words were being pulled right through the jagged shards of a broken heart.
Harry frowned, but in just a few moments the potion took over and he began to sink down into sleep.
His father feathered a touch along Harry's brow, then quietly left the room.
------------------------------------------------------
Harry drifted up through what felt like layers and layers of cotton wool. He heard a ringing noise, and then voices. At first far away, they gradually drew closer, though they never did start to sound like they were right alongside him. When he opened his eyes he was alone in his room and the door was closed, but Snape and Draco were definitely talking out in the living room. And someone else...
Tonks, he realised, recognising her voice even if her words weren't clear enough to be understood.
Harry pulled himself out of bed and adjusted his sling so it was more comfortable, then slipped on his shoes and went to join the others.