"I can't get up, sir!"
"Ah." Dumbledore turned a critical gaze on Aran. "Was that truly necessary?"
"They refused to stay for my detentions!"
The headmaster's gaze, disappointed now, swung back to Harry and Draco. "I must say, that was very childish of you, my boys." He waved his wand, his lips moving slightly as he made short work of the sticking charm. "Now we'll all go to my office and you'll serve your detention with me." He nodded towards Aran, the bright pink wizard's hood on his head flopping a bit. "Good day, Professor."
Feeling like that was a bit of a hint, Harry echoed, "Yeah, good day."
Aran just harrumphed.
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A fire was blazing in Dumbledore's grate, the cheery dancing flames in direct contrast to Harry's glum mood.
The headmaster laid Harry's assignment on his large desk, but didn't take his usual seat. Instead, he summoned three chairs into a circle and conjured a little table to sit in the centre. Gesturing, he merely asked, "Shall we?"
More than a little nervous, Harry took a seat. Draco did likewise, though he didn't look nervous in the least. But then again, Harry could tell it was a pose.
"Am I correct in thinking the two of you haven't been to lunch yet?"
"Yeah, and Severus'll be wondering where we've got to," Harry said, the words tumbling over one another. "So we really should dash down to the Great Hall--"
Dumbledore smiled. "Oh, he has a lunch meeting in his office. With a seventh-year interested in an apprenticeship. Your father mentioned it during yesterday's staff meeting."
A dark thought crossed Harry's mind. So that was why Aran had suddenly developed some guts. The Defence teacher had known that Snape wouldn't notice Harry and Draco's absence from the Great Hall!
Clapping his hands together, Dumbledore summoned a meal to the small table, complete with plates and cutlery, and even a glass of orange juice for Harry. Draco got chocolate milk, which Harry thought was a veiled reference to the Quidditch match. "There, that looks like a lovely luncheon. Let's all relax and eat, shall we? We can deal with other matters, afterwards."
Harry ate, but it would be a stretch of the imagination to say that he relaxed. His stomach felt twisted into a knot. Besides, every bite tasted like it was coated with soap. It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed a meal less.
Draco, in contrast, was making polite chit-chat just as though they were at a Ministry dinner and the headmaster was someone he wanted to impress. Dumbledore took it all in stride, nodding and smiling where appropriate, but his wizened old eyes said he wasn't being lulled by Draco's charming manners.
From time to time Draco tried to draw Harry into the conversation, but Harry wasn't having it. He mumbled a few syllables here and there, just wanting this to be over.
"Tea?" asked the headmaster at length. "A sweet, perhaps? Cake? Marzipan? Coco-Rocos?"
"Biscotti," said Draco. "And a spot of Oolong, if it's available?"
"Oh, certainly." An elf appeared with a steaming cup of tea and the biscotti, just a moment later.
Harry had no appetite for tea or dessert. "I'm pretty sure we're up here for more than a meal," he said, sighing as he shoved away his half-finished plate.
Dumbledore waved his wand over the table to banish all the food except Draco's request, and sat back in his chair. "Yes, indeed. I'd like you to read what you wrote on your assignment, Harry, paying particular attention to number three."
"Out loud?"
"No, to yourself will do admirably well."
Harry didn't much feel like doing any magic, so he got up to fetch the parchment. Looking it over as he'd been told, he almost groaned when he saw what he'd written for his third "test question."
I heard you weren't married. Is that because nobody can stand being around your fat arse for more than five minutes at a stretch?
"You do realise whom else that statement could apply to," gently prompted Dumbledore.
"Severus isn't fat," Harry muttered. "But... yeah."
"How do you think your father would feel were I to show him this?"
Harry winced, but rallied quickly enough. "What about what drove me to it, eh? Aran, complaining constantly about how evil Parseltongue is and how I must be evil just because I know it!"
"The issue here isn't Aran."
"Yeah, it is!"
"No, it is not." Dumbledore didn't raise his voice, though it somehow got a whole lot more commanding, all the same. He gentled it, though, to ask his next question. "Harry my boy, the year the Chamber was opened, nearly everyone in the school was saying the same things about you. Dark wizard, all that. And you bore it with grace and fortitude. And then later, when your character was smeared yet again, this time in newspapers circulating all 'round Wizarding Britain, you weathered that equally well. So why does the opinion of one narrow-minded teacher now cause such an uproar?"
Harry slouched down in his chair. "I don't know."
Dumbledore peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "Really, Harry, I thought you more mature than this. In point of fact, you've repeatedly been far more mature than this when it came to dealing with difficult professors."
"Well, maybe it's his time to vent," said Draco, crossing his ankles in the same way Severus sometimes did. "It's probably healthy. You know, all those years repressing rage can't have been good for him--"
"Thank you, Draco," said the headmaster with a smile. "I happen to believe there's a bit more than that going on. Well, Harry? Why does what Professor Aran says disturb you so much?"
"It doesn't!" exclaimed Harry. "I mean, until recently I was just ignoring all his insults."
"And what changed that?"
Draco, Harry thought, but he didn't say so.
"Let's examine the matter from another angle, Harry," continued the headmaster. "Even when you were ignoring him, he still made you angry, I think?"
"Not just because of what he would say, though," said Harry, sitting up more. "Aran's been--"
"Professor Aran, Harry."
"Fine. Professor Aran's been completely unreasonable. He can think what he likes of Parseltongue, but you know that's the only way I can do magic, and he won't let me speak Parseltongue in class! How fair is that?"
"Oh, it's thoroughly unfair," said Dumbledore, popping a lemon sherbet into his mouth. He extended a little dish of them. "Hmm?"
Harry sighed. "This is the part where you tell me that life isn't fair, I guess."
"I wasn't going to say anything of the sort. You of all people would already know that life isn't fair, Harry. Let me understand the situation, then. Professor Aran has refused to let you learn properly. At first you acquiesced to his restrictions, but of late you've been defying them, instead. Not to mention, expressing your displeasure in quite a spectacular fashion."
Harry sat up a little bit straighter. "Yeah, that's about right."
"Because Defence, especially for you, is in no way an optional course of study."
"Exactly!"
"Your life could well be in jeopardy if you don't learn it properly."
Harry nodded emphatically.
Dumbledore popped another sweet into his mouth. "I'm a bit surprised Severus would have allowed this to go on. You did inform him at once, I trust?"
Harry scowled then, seeing too late that he'd been led into a trap. Though in all fairness, it was most likely a trap he couldn't have avoided. His fate had probably been sealed as soon as Aran called Dumbledore. Or really, as soon as his brother had convinced him to stand up to Aran. That was really what had set this whole thing in motion.
When Harry turned his glare on Draco, the other boy gave a little shrug. Like he'd known it would come to this. Like he'd seen it coming, even if he hadn't planned it.
"No," said Harry shortly, finally answering the headmaster's question.