"Love, Harry"
It took Draco a few moments longer to write out the final phrases, and then, all he said was, "What do I tell the owl?"
But his voice was dead.
"I'll take care of the owl," Harry tightly informed him. "Hand me the sheets. I have to make sure you wrote it right." He waited until he had the pages of parchment firmly in hand, and said, "That's it then. Get out."
It looked like Draco was swallowing something as he choked out, "Look, Potter, I--"
"Get out!" Harry screamed. "A hundred points, remember? OUT!"
"Points," Draco gasped. "Merlin's balls, you think I give a flip about points?"
"Out," Harry menaced in a low voice, that time. A low, determined voice. "Get the hell out. Or I'll start screaming for Severus, and you can explain to him why you aren't trustworthy in the least and how you don't bother keeping the promises you make. Now, GET OUT!"
And Draco finally did.
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Harry wanted to use the enchanted quill so that he could hear if Draco had really written everything as dictated, but Madame Pomfrey was back by then. He certainly didn't want her hearing the letter.
Well, Harry reasoned, no time like the present to see if he could cast a simple charm of his own.
Drawing his wand out from where he'd stashed it--beneath his pillow since the pajamas had no pockets--he waved it in an arc, concentrated, and uttered Silencio...
But the magic didn't flow. Strange that he could feel it now, flowing through him... that was an improvement, certainly, but it didn't help him know how to make it come out through his wand. He didn't know how to make it come out at all, except in those surges of fury. But he couldn't control those, so they weren't much use. After all, he hadn't really wanted to shatter the windows. All he'd wanted was to see Snape.
He tucked his wand back under his pillow, and stuffed the letter under there for good measure, and stared around at his surroundings for a while, trying to identify things by their blurs. It was really a pretty boring game. Besides that, it made his eyes feel tired. It didn't take long before Harry's eyelids were drooping and he was dropping into a light sleep.
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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:
Chapter Thirty-Two: Dark Powers
Comments very welcome,
Aspen in the Sunlight
Chapter 32: Dark Powers
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=5036&chapter=32
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A Year Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter Thirty-Two: Dark Powers
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Snape was there when he woke up, looking like a great black smudge. Well, a smudge with something propped on his crossed knee. Book, maybe.
Harry yawned and sat up. "I can still see," he admitted. "Not too well, though." His glance swept the hazy outlines of the room. "Anybody else in here?"
"No." All the same, Snape proceeded to draw his wand and cast Silencio, which of course reminded Harry of his own failure.
"Ah, well that's one of the things we should discuss," Snape said when Harry mentioned it. "Your magic. More specifically, your wild magic. But let's leave that for a little later."
A tray levitated over towards the bed, then hovered atop Harry's knees.
"What about you?" Harry asked as he began to eat, squinting at his food. "You said we'd have dinner together."
"You really can't see too well," Snape sighed. "Mine is just over there." He waved somewhere off to his right, and then Harry saw the vague outline of a tray floating over. "So, Harry. What did you want to talk about? Alone," he mocked.
Well, that was as good a place to start as any, Harry figured. "Can you please tell Malfoy to stop lurking around? I really don't want to see him."
Snape finished chewing something before he answered. "I'm afraid I must decline your request."
"Why?"
"Put yourself in Draco's place." Snape's voice was deliberately calm. "He's been raised all his life to follow the Dark Lord. Every family and social connection he had was predicated on this expectation. He's given it all up. Now he has nothing, Harry."
"Disowned or not, I'm sure he's still got piles of gold," Harry scoffed. "I've heard him brag about how he has his own vault stuffed with money he inherited from his great-grandfather."
"You cannot be so immature as to think money can compensate for family," Snape rebuked him. "Wouldn't you trade all your Galleons for ten minutes with James?"
That was true enough, Harry realized.
"And before you say that Lucius Malfoy isn't worth a Knut, let alone a Galleon," Snape continued, "I'd like you to consider the fact that we don't get to choose our fathers."
Another good point, but Harry had heard just about enough Draco-pity for one evening. "Yeah, well he gets to choose his own behavior, doesn't he? He dressed up as a Dementor to make me fall off my broom! Last year he was square in Umbridge's corner. This year on the train on the way here, he--"
"What is he choosing now?" Snape interrupted. "To turn his back on his family allegiances. To return your wand to your hand. To do his classwork late at night so that in class he can help me brew draughts for you."
"But don't you see?" Harry pushed his finished tray aside, letting it hover beside the bed, and went on, "This could all be some sort of plot--"
"It's not."
Snape's absolute certainty was nothing short of infuriating. "How can we know that?"
"Apply your mind to the problem!" Snape snapped, losing patience. "What plot could possibly include returning your wand?"
Harry blew out a breath through his nose. "All right. Just for the purpose of argument, assume that during some fit of insanity, Malfoy stole my wand. Maybe he was mad at his father or something, and figured it would be a good way to get him in trouble with Voldemort. So he did it, without thinking, probably. And now he's stuck. It doesn't mean we can trust him in the future!"
Snape reached out for one of Harry's hands, and clasped it gently. "Does it mean we should reject him, and drive him right back into the ranks of the Death Eaters?"
Shite, Harry thought, sighing. He would have to have a point.
"I am not saying you should trust Draco Malfoy, Harry," Snape pressed his advantage, giving his hand a squeeze. "I am saying you should think about your own choices. What can you accomplish by openly inflicting your hate and enmity on him? I happen to trust him, but let us suppose you are right, and his loyalties are wavering. Shouldn't you seek to capture them, rather than hand the Dark Lord yet another follower?"
"I hate his guts," Harry said, scowling. "He's the real reason I ended up at Samhain, you know. Lucius Malfoy only got information to find me with because he talked to my uncle. And just how did he know where to find my uncle? Draco Malfoy gave him the address!"
"Oh, that explains why the Order's been watching you like a hawk the past two summers, someone on guard duty every hour of every day," Snape mocked. "Because the Dark Lord didn't yet know your address. Be serious! He's known for years where to find you. He just couldn't get through the wards!"