When Draco landed, his team rushed up to him. Harry couldn't hear what they were saying, but it all looked very positive. Congratulations, something like that. They even lifted him up and carried him off the pitch on their shoulders, though it wasn't like he'd performed some daring stunt to catch the Snitch.
He had, however, held off long enough to get them their thousand points. And more.
The final score stood at Hufflepuff 130, Slytherin 1260.
Harry saw his father staring at the scoreboard. "Pretty good, eh?"
Snape's lips quirked upward. "It's not enough to put Slytherin in first place, but it is a good start."
"Three weeks left in term," Harry reminded him. "That's not much time to catch up the rest of the way."
"Gloating that Gryffindor may well win yet again?"
Harry felt his ears burning. "No--"
Snape laid a hand on his arm. "I spoke in jest, Harry. You have done quite well, really, balancing out your responsibilities to both your Houses. I don't imagine it's an easy task."
"Not easy, no," said Harry, remembering what Draco had mentioned about Harry still deciding what team to play for next year. If he played at all. "Come on, Dad. The crowd's thinned out. Let's go down and find Draco."
The Slytherin changing rooms were stuffed with people now, every one of them talking fast. Harry could hardly catch a word, though he did notice that the name Draco figured prominently. Sometimes even, Draco Snape.
One other word stuck out as well.
"Malshite," drawled Zabini in about as nasty a voice as Harry had ever heard. The room went silent. "You think this makes you some sort of fucking hero, Malshite? Because you can fly around in circles for hours while the rest of the team does the hard work of scoring goals? Well, if you think this makes you one of us again you can--"
"Shut up, Blaise," ordered Agnes DeMolay. "So it was an unconventional kind of match. Doesn't take a thing away from our Seeker. If Draco hadn't stopped Sellberg from getting the Snitch early on, we wouldn't have all those points."
"Yeah, so stop calling him Malshite!" ordered Erik Vanvelzeer.
"Yeah!" echoed Millicent Bulstrode.
Ignoring Bulstrode, Zabini turned his ire on Vanvelzeer. "You're the one who testified he was a murderous little bastard!"
"I was memory-charmed, you complete arse," spat Vanvelzeer. "Draco's done us a good turn here today, and the way you've been treating him, it's a wonder he wanted to bother! If I hear you call him Malshite again, I'll shove a hex so far up your nose it hits brain. Got it?" He raised his voice still further. "And that goes for the rest of you as well!"
"Yeah!"
Bulstrode again. Harry had figured out by then that she was either dating Erik, or sweet on him.
"Well said, Mr. Vanvelzeer," said Snape, emerging from the shadows. The way nobody had noticed him, Harry thought he must have cast a silent Disillusionment charm. Over both of them, maybe. But it was gone, now.
"Harry!" cried Draco, grinning. "Didn't see you there!"
Snape resumed speaking in a deep, serious voice. "Ladies and gentlemen. In case you've forgotten, we are Slytherins. That means more than mere cunning. It also means we can learn from our mistakes. When it is clear that a previous allegiance is indeed an error in judgment, a Slytherin will not cling blindly to the past in some vain hope that it will all work out for the best. A true Slytherin will think the matter through and make a new choice, the one most likely to serve his ends.
"Draco has done this. The cost to him was high, as I think you know. But the cost of holding to his previous course would have been far higher, still." Snape's voice took on a booming tone. "Which of you here aspires to be a slave? Come, speak! I wish to know!"
The room remained silent, a slight chill settling over the students. Harry shivered too, even though he knew this speech wasn't really for him.
"I see your thoughts in your eyes," continued Snape remorselessly. "You think--some of you, at any rate--oh, but it won't be like that. Not for me. Idiot children. Can you possibly be more naÔve? I was in your place once. I know whereof I speak! There is no security or freedom under Voldemort, and precious little reward. There is only pain, and abject service, and this."
With that, Snape held his left arm out and tapped it to vanish away all the fabric covering it. Even the bandage he habitually wore faded away.
A collective gasp--or maybe more of a groan--washed through the students as they crowded closer for a better look, then shrank back.
"I was in his inner circle," stressed Snape. "One of his most trusted confidantes. And I was a slave all the same, ladies and gentlemen. You have heard this before, but perhaps now you're ready to listen. Think on it. Think on it long and hard."
Harry thought their father was through, then, but Snape had one more thing to say. "Mr. Zabini. Public use of foul language is, as I do believe you know, strongly frowned upon at Hogwarts. See me in my office this evening at 6 p.m. We will discuss whether ten thousand lines will be sufficient to deter you in future--"
"Ten thousand lines," shrieked Zabini. "Just for saying Malshite?"
"Ten thousand per incident, perhaps," drawled Snape with a hard glare. That shut Zabini up, Harry saw.
It made someone else gasp, though. Ron was standing at the door to the changing room, looking in, Hermione's hand clasped in his.
Harry rushed over. "Hey. What are you doing here?"
Ron's expression was something between a grin and a grimace. "Well, the old ball-and-chain here--"
Hermione yanked her hand from his grasp and huffed.
"Sorry," Ron said, sounding cheerful, then. "Hermione convinced me that seeing as Draco's your brother and all, and you're our best mate, the done thing to do would be drop by and offer him a quick congratulations. So, you tell him for me, all right?"
"Ronald!"
"She's not going to let you off," said Harry, good-naturedly. "Draco! Come on over here for a minute."
"What is it?" And then, with a bit of a scowl at Ron. "Oh. Him." Draco glanced back at the crowd. "Let's get some fresh air." He led the way outside. "Well?"
"Congratulations," said Ron, the word muffled even though there was nothing in front of his mouth.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
"Congratulations!"
"Yes, I should be fÃted," agreed Draco, beaming a bright smile. One of those fake, not-sure-how-to-handle-this smiles, no less. "That really was quite some playing I did. Saving Sellberg, now that was above and beyond. Surely it's worth a little kiss from the lovely lady at your side?"
"Draco!" yelled Harry. "Sorry, he gets like this. Giddy. We think it's a psychological problem. Um, overcompensating--"
Ron curled a lip, his face flushing red. "Yeah, for being even poorer than I've ever been!"
"Ronald!"
"Oh yeah, that was magnanimous and gracious, all right!" Harry said, crossing his arms as he glanced at Draco, whose posture was suddenly... off. He was posing again, Harry sensed. Bracing himself for the rest of the ridicule Ron clearly had stored up.
Ron though, looked about as horrified as Hermione at the words that had come out of his mouth. "I didn't mean to say it like that!" he exclaimed. "I... Listen, Draco, you shouldn't threaten to kiss Hermione!"
"I didn't threaten her, you moronic lack-brained twit. And even if I had, the girl knows how to defend herself. And besides, it's not me she goes off snogging with in dark corners when she's supposed to be--"