A Year Like None Other

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or this fictional universe. JK Rowling, some publishers, and some film companies own everything. I'm not making anything from this except a hobby.

Summary: A letter from home sends Harry down a path he'd never have walked on his own. A sixth year fic, this story follows Order of the Phoenix and disregards any canon events that occur after Book 5. Spoilers for the first five books. Have fun!

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A Year Like None Other

by Aspen in the Sunlight

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Chapter Sixty-Three: Wizard Family Services

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For once, Hermione didn't linger, though she did cast Harry several rather dire looks, as though challenging him to come clean. He probably would have, if not for Draco standing right there. It was just stupid to let Hermione go away without clearing this up. He knew though, he just knew, that if he tried to tell Hermione the truth, Draco would interrupt straight away with more nonsense about falling from brooms, or possibly something even more patently ridiculous.

Of course, Harry reflected, he could just go ahead and blurt everything out, but with Draco's impulse control problems? He might lose his temper and hex Harry or something --goodness knew he'd got enough practice at it in Devon-- and that would be just great, wouldn't it? All Harry needed was for Hermione to leave here with some actual evidence that he was being abused, instead of just vague suspicions.

Far better, Harry decided, to hash it all out once Hermione had gone.

The moment the door was closed, Harry rounded on Draco and pinned him with a glare. "We're going to have to tell her."

"Oh, don't be an imbecile," Draco scathed, scooping up the book he'd been reading before. He spared Harry a cursory glance. "Severus doesn't want that Muggleborn knowing about your magic, and that's that."

"Don't call her that!" Harry erupted.

"Why shouldn't I?" Draco smirked as his eyes returned to his text. "It's what she is, Harry."

"It means you think of her as something less than you or me, and don't think I don't know it!"

Draco just shrugged as he turned a page.

Fed up, Harry glanced once at Sals who was quietly basking in her charmed box, then flicked his hand in Draco's direction and hissed a summoning charm Parseltongue, "Book, get over here!"

The instant Blood is Thicker than Potion leapt into his hand, Harry tossed it behind him, onto a low shelf, and growled, "I'll have it out with Severus when he gets home from his detentions, but I've had it with lying to Hermione. It's not working anyway, she's starting to wonder what's going on down here--"

"Well she wouldn't wonder, would she," Draco sneered, stomping over, "if you'd gotten your bruises healed like I told you to! What the hell's wrong with you, showing off your battle wounds like that? Maybe you are an attention-seeking little arse like I used to think! Or maybe your little girlfriend is so important that you wanted her to guess you've been fending off curses like mad almost every day! Is that why you showed her Potter? Well, is it?"

Harry wasn't sure what to react to first. "She..." He cleared his throat, a little embarrassed to have to point it out, but Draco didn't seem to realise the real problem, so he detailed, "She doesn't suspect I've been practicing magic, Malfoy. Hermione thinks I'm getting beat up or something!"

Draco stopped breathing for a second.

"Yeah," Harry emphasized, now that he had the other boy's attention.

"If you knew she thought that, why didn't you tell her you aren't?"

"Maybe because every time I tried, you started butting in with rubbish about transfigured beds dumping me on the floor!"

"Maybe that was because you were going to tell her the whole fucking truth, instead of just the part she needs to know! Well, it's certainly good to know the truth about you, Potter. You go on about being half-Slytherin sometimes but deep down, she's the one who's really your mate. Her and Weasley!"

"I told you the whole truth too, you arse!" Harry shouted, fed up with Draco's insecurities. "Against Severus' advice, too, and don't think he wasn't pretty upset with me! I told you about the prophecy that's basically crapped up my entire life! Which, by the fucking way, I've never told Ron and Hermione about. Well, not completely, anyway, so get over yourself, will you? I like you too!" When Draco looked rather stunned at that outburst, Harry calmed slightly and added, "Ron hasn't betrayed my secret, not even to Hermione, and she's just as trustworthy. I think you even know that, at some level. But you want me not to tell her because you like having one over on her. Because it makes you feel like... you're closer to me than she is."

Having recovered from the moment before, Draco leaned against the wall and arched an eyebrow in an extremely studied pose. "You make it all sound so maudlin, Potter," he drawled. "Do you really imagine I'm remotely interested in competing with Gryffindors?" He gave a low, derisive laugh.

"Yes," Harry flatly answered, ignoring all the misdirection going on. "You're more than interested. You're obsessed, and with good reason. I haven't forgotten what you told me about your last name, how it could end you up in Azkaban all on its own, practically, and I might be all that stands in the way."

Draco, Harry noticed, was doing his best to look bored.

"You aren't competing with Ron and Hermione," Harry tried. "There's no competition--"

"No contest, you mean," Draco bitterly broke in.

"There's no competition," Harry stressed, "because all my friends are important to me, all right? You as much as them. And for pity's sake, Draco, you and I are brothers these days!"

Draco's nostrils flared. "Well, just remember that when you're ensconced in the heart of Gryffindor again, why don't you?"

"I won't forget," Harry promised, then frowned. "I might have to go back sooner than Severus has planned, if we don't do something to fix this Hermione situation, you realise."

Draco snorted. "Oh, please. You think that Hufflepuff casewitch is going to believe for one second that Severus is abusing you? I don't think so, not after all the love and care he showered on you right in front of her!"

Harry actually wasn't sure what the casewitch might think. "She might think you're doing the abusing, Draco. And that Severus isn't doing enough to put an end to it."

"Why would she think that?" Then Draco softly swore. "Oh, shite. Maybe she's read my school file."

"Yeah, you haven't been the nicest guy in the castle," Harry merely said, relieved that he didn't have to mention the other motive the casewitch was sure to consider, which was that Draco was jealous over how Harry'd been adopted and he hadn't. Speaking of which, Harry groaned, "Remember the dream I told you about? Unadoption?"

Draco paled. "You think Family Services will believe this tripe and decide Severus isn't a fit father?"

"I think I'd better make sure they don't get a chance to hear Hermione's wild suspicions," Harry nodded. "When Severus comes home, will you help me convince him that she needs to know the truth?"

Draco looked a bit ill at the prospect of letting the Gryffindor girl in on the secret, but he nodded.

Reluctantly.

Very reluctantly.

Then of course, being a Slytherin, he immediately had something he wanted in return. But in the circumstances, it was hardly something Harry could resent. "You forgot to hold your wand to cover that Accio charm," he pointed out. "Better not get in the habit of letting anybody see your wandless magic."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, better not. Thanks."

Draco merely nodded, then summoned his book back to himself and resumed his reading.

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Harry was actually in two minds about waiting for his father to get home. He was just itching to call the man on the Floo, but this wasn't really an emergency, was it? Certainly, he couldn't claim that his life or Draco's was in danger, and that had been Severus' criterion for disturbing him when he was with students.

Even if the man was just supervising a detention instead of conducting a class, Harry figured he'd better just wait.

But how long was it going to take the man to get home? It was already long past noon, and hadn't he promised to take them to Devon? Maybe, Harry darkly thought, considering how black Snape's mood had been lately, those detentions weren't going very well. He felt pretty sorry for whichever unlucky student was stuck scrubbing desks under Snape's watchful eye.

That made him remember, though, how Snape had been with him the night before. Volatile, sure, and he hadn't flinched from insulting Harry or throwing out quite nasty comments like out of my sight or would you speak to James this way.... but for all that, he'd been remarkably tolerant in other respects. In the end, he'd opened up enough to admit to something really personal. That was actually pretty amazing. Maybe even more remarkable was the fact that he'd given up on trying to make Harry take Truthful Dreams if he didn't want to.

They'd negotiated... just like Snape had said they would when Harry had first asked him about rules. Harry felt pretty good about that. Like... not only was he getting to know his father better, like he'd wished, but also like Snape was a good enough father to hold it together even when he was under a huge amount of stress.

Like they were going to be okay, really okay....

That, of course, only made Harry all the more worried about the immediate future. Since when did things ever work out okay for him? As far as Harry was concerned, getting hopeful was almost an omen that his hopes were going to be dashed.

The minute Snape came in the door late that afternoon, Harry rushed to him, blurting, "Hermione was here and she saw my bruise and I'm sure she thinks something absolutely awful is going on! I mean, she's noticed before when I've been sore, but this seemed like it was the final straw for her--"

Snape hung up his cloak as Harry spoke, then interrupted, "Miss Granger stopped by to see me about the matter, yes."

"Oh, God," Harry groaned. One part of him was glad that Hermione had enough sense to go to Severus with her suspicions, but the rest of him was just humiliated that his friends were so horrid to his father. Ron accusing him of molestation had been bad enough. And now this... "I'm so sorry," Harry said, swallowing. "It's my fault. I should have let you heal that bruise when you offered."

"Evidently," was all Snape replied as he crossed to Floo and ordered a pot of tea.

Draco glanced up from his reading but didn't say anything.

Snape poured three cups, pushed one over to Draco, and gestured that Harry should join them at the table. "Don't blame yourself for Miss Granger's assumptions," he calmly advised.

"You don't sound... er, too angry about them," Harry ventured.

The Potions Master shrugged. "I expect your friends to be negatively disposed toward us as a matter of course. It could be worse." Harry thought he meant Ron, but then Snape continued, "At least when she thought such things she had the courtesy to confront me rather than file an official complaint about the adoption."

Harry thought that sounded rather promising. "So did you tell her the truth, then?"

"I hardly thought that necessary," Snape drawled, sipping his tea. "I informed her that as I'm not comfortable with the prospect of my son remaining utterly vulnerable, I've been training you in hand-to-hand fighting."

"She bought that?"

"It has the benefit of being in part true," Snape pointed out. "I also told her that you and I had mutually agreed only to heal the worst of your injuries, as the potions in question can be quite addictive."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that'll be all right, I guess," he murmured.

"One wonders why you didn't tell her that yourself," Snape suddenly remarked, setting down his cup with a clatter and narrowing a glare on Draco. "Instead, I hear you've filled her all-too-astute mind with no end of nonsensical stories."

Draco flushed. "Well, I had to think on my feet, you know--"

Snape's glare only became more feral. "In case you've never noticed," he snarled, "Miss Hermione Granger is quite highly intelligent! I would appreciate it in future if you would treat her as such, and spare me the necessity of sweeping up after you! I must say, she was very interested in why the two of you," here his glare shifted to include Harry, "didn't simply tell her that I was training Harry in self-defence."

Uh-oh. Harry froze, then managed to groan, "How did you explain why we didn't just admit to that?"

Snape gave him a disgusted glance. "The day I cannot misdirect a sixteen-year-old Gryffindor is the day I tender my resignation," he sneered, taking up his cup again. He made Harry wait through several sips before continuing. "I told her that Draco was embarrassed a wizard should have to learn such a thing. And that you, Harry, were worried if Gryffindor learned of it, they might assume your magic was never coming back. That you were horrified at the prospect of demoralizing the war effort."

"Good thinking, Severus," Draco approved with a slight smirk in Harry's direction. You'd never known he'd been rebuked the moment before. No, he was too busy gloating. Harry could practically hear him. See, Harry? Severus has everything under control and there's no way we're letting that Muggleborn in on a thing...

Harry wasn't about to leave it at that. "I still think we need to tell Hermione the truth," he staunchly asserted.

"No," Snape snapped.

"Look, if she thinks you're teaching me Muggle fighting, it's just a short stretch from that to her deciding that you're being a little too rough on me and it's your... uh, past hostility at James making you hurt me--"

Snape's eyes darkened in a way Harry recognised as dangerous. "And just what would Miss Granger know about my hostility toward James? You told me you hadn't shared what you saw last year!"

"I didn't!" Harry yelped, a little bit alarmed. "It's common knowledge, Severus! Oh, not that incident in particular, but the fact that you hated him, yeah! Even the casewitch knew about it; she asked me if I was worried you might confuse the two of us!"

At that, the Potions Master appeared to calm. "We will not be telling anyone further about your magic, Harry. Anyone. If Merlin himself walked through that door and offered congratulations on your Lumos, I'd expect you to ask him what he's going on about. Do you understand me?"

"But Dad," Harry objected, "I'm sure it's just a matter of time before Hermione goes back to thinking--"

"I do not care what your friends think!" Snape erupted. "Or what anyone thinks, for that matter!"

"Well you'd better start," Harry shouted back. "Because if Wizard Family Services hears what she thinks, they'll probably take me away from you!"

Snape opened his mouth to yell again--Harry could tell--but was startled out of it by the same noise that in the same instant made Draco glance up, and Harry nearly jump out of his chair.

The magic doorbell, clanging inside all their heads.

Harry glanced at the door parchment, hoping it would read Hermione Granger.

But it didn't. Instead, his horrified gaze read names that sounded a death-knell inside his mind.

Amaelia Thistlethorne, Richard Steyne.

Harry nearly fainted, and the feeling only got worse when he saw Snape calmly rising to his feet. "Don't answer it," he begged.

Snape paused to look at him. "That's hardly going to help matters." When Harry closed his eyes in defeat, his father added, "Whatever happens, we will surmount it." And then, "Harry. Look at me, Harry."

The boy did.

"Occlude your mind," Snape urged. "And school your features. She will be watching your every expression to determine whether something is wrong. I know you feel unsettled, but you must show her how much you feel at ease. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Harry groaned, getting himself together. Or trying. He wasn't sure how well he was doing, but he saw Draco give him an encouraging nod. Harry smiled back, practicing. And then Snape was opening the door.

The casewitch stood there, her garish red robes clashing with her hair. She was accompanied by a blond man barely taller than her.

"Miss Thistlethorne," Snape greeted her, bowing ever so slightly in a gesture of deference. "What a pleasure. Please, do come in."

The casewitch wasn't smiling, Harry noticed. Nor was the wizard with her, who looked stiffly about as though searching for evidence of abuse right there in the living room.

"Professor Snape," she levelly replied.

Remembering Draco's manner with guests before, Harry stepped forward. Best to act like he was perfectly at home, right? Well, he was perfectly at home in Snape's rooms, come to think of it, but best to make them see that. "May I take your cloaks?" he politely inquired, modulating his voice to a tone both relaxed and polite.

The casewitch shrugged out of hers, revealing a dress just as horribly red, but the wizard declined with a sharp shake of his head. "My new assistant, Mr Richard Steyne," Thistlethorne introduced him. "This is Mr Harry Potter. Of course you're well acquainted already with Professor Snape, and I dare say you recall Mr Malfoy from your own student days."

"Mr Steyne, a pleasure to see you once more," Snape drawled in a deep voice that somehow indicated a lack of pleasure, for all it also sounded sincere.

"Professor," Steyne replied, the single word just short of curt.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I thought your name sounded familiar, though I don't believe we ever much talked--"

"No, seventh-years don't tend to fraternize with underclassmen," Steyne interrupted, his gaze still critical as he glanced around. When it settled on Harry, Steyne looked for his scar.

Harry covered an urge to sigh by politely asking, "Has Mr Darswaithe left the department, then?"

The casewitch looked a tiny bit put out. "Wizard Family Services is not a department," she corrected. "It is an adjunct services office."

Harry nodded as though he really understood the difference. Or cared.

"Horace Darswaithe has transferred to superintending an orphanage for squib children," she added, making Harry wonder if Darswaithe had transferred or been transferred.

Snape, Harry noticed, was gesturing that their visitors should sit down, but both Thistlethorne and Steyne ignored him. "I must admit, I was anticipating you might conduct a routine review soon," the Potions Master tried prompting.

At that, Amaelia Thistlethorne's voice grew positively frosty. "This is not routine, Professor Snape. We are investigating a complaint."

"A complaint?" Harry echoed, furrowing his brow as though he couldn't imagine what she meant. "About what?"

The casewitch glanced with disdain at Snape and Draco both, leaving Harry a bit confused as to just which of them she had decided to blame. When she looked back at Harry, her gaze softened, though not by much. "It has come to our attention that this placement may not be adequate to your needs, Mr Potter."

Harry widened his eyes, careful not to overdo it. "But I'm really happy here," he protested, looking at her as though any thinking person ought to know as much. "Look, I'm sure you know Severus has a lot of enemies who'd say... well, anything, to get back at him, but I couldn't ask for a better father."

"Be that as it may," the casewitch pompously interrupted, "I will need to interview each of you, alone. I'll start with you, Mr Potter." She paused then, seeming to consider something. "Do you feel a need for us to be chaperoned, again?"

He thought of saying yes and claiming that he had to have Snape in there with him, but was pretty sure she wouldn't allow that. And really, wouldn't it be better to show her how much good it had done Harry to live here?

"I'm sorry I demanded Remus sit with us before," he admitted. "I was on edge after Samhain, you know. Who wouldn't be? But I'm over that, now." Glancing over at Snape, he asked, "We can use your office, can't we, Dad?"

He didn't miss the slightly sardonic light in his father's eyes as Snape said, "By all means." Snape drew his wand to open the door, only to go still when Steyne drew his as well.

"I'm afraid I can't allow you to cast anything, Professor Snape," Steyne announced, her voice stiff and stern all at once. "I'm sure you understand."

He meant, Harry sensed, that Snape might be sneaking an eavesdropping charm onto the room. Or something even more underhanded.

The Potions Master had lowered his arm, though he said, "I certainly understand. However, short of allowing me to unlock my office wards..." He shrugged, and said with perfect confidence that was somehow not in the least arrogant, "It will take several hours for Aurors to dismantle them, if they can manage it at all."

"We will floo through to the headmaster's office," the casewitch decided.

Snape was calm, yet resolute. "I do believe your own policies and procedures specify that all complaints and investigations thereof will remain absolutely confidential. As this issue will no doubt be amicably resolved, I have no wish to have it brought to the attention of my employer."

"Take her into our bedroom, Harry," Draco suggested with a slightly strained smile. "After which Mr Steyne or Miss Thistlethorne can no doubt apply silencing charms or whatever is usual in a case like this."

"Will that be all right, Miss Thistlethorne?" Harry thought to ask.

She nodded, and waited for him to lead the way. As the door began to close behind them, Harry heard Draco complain --in a fake-sounding voice, no less-- "Severus, what is going on?"

"I'm afraid I can't allow you to answer that, Professor Snape," Steyne answered, sounding professional but also rather satisfied with himself. "If you've read our policies and procedures you must know that my role here is to assure that the two of you don't communicate before my colleague has a chance to interview you--"

Harry didn't hear the answer to that, as by then the door had closed completely.

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"So who complained?" Harry pressed first off, sitting down on his bed as the casewitch took up a position on the one opposite. He knew, of course, that she wouldn't tell him, but he figured a normal reaction would be for him to want to know.

"You heard your guardian. The whole investigation is confidential," Thistlethorne reminded him.

"Father," Harry corrected.

She gave him a long, considering look. "When last we spoke you couldn't even call yourself his son."

"I know," the boy admitted. "It took me a while to get used to having someone. Severus was great about it. He just let me be me, insecurities and all." A frown creasing his brow, Harry added, "I understand if you can't say who complained, but you can tell me what they said, can't you? I mean, placement not adequate to my needs? What does that mean, Severus has to give me more homework or something?"

The casewitch gave him a long, level stare, her gaze not one he'd seen before. "I'd like to see your arms, Mr Potter."

Shrugging as though he couldn't see why she would ask for that, Harry shoved up both his sleeves in turn and held his arms out. One of them was still horribly bruised, of course. He wondered if he should have taken a healing potion after Hermione had left. But he'd been waiting to talk to Severus. And at any rate, that might look suspicious in of itself, like he was hiding something.

"That's a rather serious injury, wouldn't you say?" the casewitch pressed.

Well, at least Snape had handed them a decent explanation. "Oh, that?" Harry asked, as though only slowly realizing that someone else might make something of it. "Well, it's a little sore... not too much, really."

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me about it?"

"Oh, I get it," Harry said, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I guess it does look a bit... Well, the thing is this. Severus is a Potions Master, see? He told me when he first started teaching me to fight that I'd have to use a little judicious care, as he put it, in how I used healing potions afterwards. A lot of them can be addictive..." Harry shrugged. "I bet it's my friend Hermione who complained, huh? I know she's noticed my bruises. In fact, she was here earlier and saw this exact one. Well, I'm sorry if she thinks my father ought to cure me of every last cut and scrape, but he's doing the right thing."

Since that story must dovetail in perfectly into what Hermione had reported--at least it would if she'd reported her conversation with Snape--Harry figured it would go a long ways toward convincing the casewitch that nothing bad was going on.

"The person who complained--and I'm not saying who that is--seemed to be in some doubt as to how you got those bruises in the first place," Thistlethorne put in.

Harry frowned. "Well, I couldn't tell her," he exclaimed. "She's a girl!" And then, as though a bit repentant, "No offence."

"Perhaps you could explain."

"Yeah, okay." Harry cleared his throat, not needing to feign his nervousness at the prospect. "Like I said, she's a girl. I didn't think she'd understand about the fighting. She thinks you can just always talk everything out. Look, nobody really gets what my life is like, except maybe my father. I'm a target, and I need to be prepared. Now... you know my magic's not quite what it should be, these days. Severus is a good father. He wasn't going to let me just stay vulnerable, was he? Not that the self-defence he's teaching me will go far against hexes, let alone curses, but it's better than nothing." He chewed his lip. "And besides..."

"Besides?"

Harry let his glance slide across her and then away. "Well, the headmaster mentioned you were in the Order the first time around, so I guess I can tell you. This'll sound... uh, conceited, I guess, but I'm significant, you know? I thought if it got out that I was learning Muggle-style fighting, people would start to think that I, uh... was never going to get my powers back. And then the Daily Prophet would run stories about it, and the Ministry would issue press releases, and Rita Skeeter would probably tromp down here to get an inside scoop, and..." Harry sighed. "I just didn't need all that. Not to mention that if people started to get scared that I wasn't a wizard any longer, it might make it harder for them to keep up their spirits for the fight against Voldemort."

Thistlethorne didn't give away any clue as to what she was thinking. "And how are things with Mr Malfoy?" she went right on.

"Good," Harry answered. "Really good. Well, actually he is pretty jealous that I have friends in Gryffindor, but other than that we get along."

"What about him having some ill-will due to the fact that Professor Snape only adopted one of you?"

Harry debated about telling her, but realised that if she thought Draco might be abusing him, it would be good to make her understand how little motive he had.

"Well, I know Severus threatened to take points over his attitude," Harry offered, leaning forward on his palms, "but just so you know, he never did. Anyway, though, it ended up that Severus really listened to you and what you said about not leaving Draco out. I mean, there is the money thing which means he'd rather let Draco stay officially emancipated, but he made it clear that where it counted, Draco and he and I were all in this together. All one family, I mean."

Amaelia Thistlethorne raised both eyebrows. "How did he do that?"

Harry laughed a little bit in remembrance. "Well, Draco and I do get along, but we also quarrel sometimes. Severus was tired of it. He took us into his office and sat us down, and said in his deepest voice, first to me and then to Draco, You are my son. You are my son in all but name. We are a family and this sibling rivalry is going to stop, gentlemen... Something like that, anyway. And you know, that was when I realised that Draco and I really were acting like brothers. And since then, we've talked about it a bit. It's like he's adopted too, it really is. Severus is all insistent that things be even... right up to having us open our Christmas stockings at the same time, as if we were five! But I've learned living down here that Slytherins sort of have this thing about things being even..." With that, Harry realised that he had let his tongue get away from him, just a bit. But that was good, right? It would make what he'd had to say seem natural.

"Do you have any concerns about your placement here, or how things are going?"

Harry looked at her curiously. "I don't know what to say to that. I mean... I like having a father, and you're here to investigate a complaint, of all things, so I'm hardly going to add complaints of my own. But on the other hand I'm worried that if I say that everything's perfect, you'll know well enough that that can't be quite true, either. And then you'll think I'm lying, which you might think means I'm hiding something..." Groaning, he admitted, "I can't win."

"Frankly, I'd have concerns if you had none of your own," the casewitch prompted.

Harry recognised that as a ploy to make him talk, but he also took the not-so-subtle threat seriously. "Concerns," he repeated, thinking. "Well, I can't help but worry about my magic, though I don't suppose that's anything to do with the adoption. Sometimes Severus sort of expects me to think like a Slytherin, and that can be irritating..." Actually, Harry reflected, this whole conversation proved that he could think pretty much like a Slytherin.

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"

Harry debated saying that he loved Severus, then decided it would come off as desperate to keep him, which wasn't the impression he should be making. He shook his head.

"And how are your classes going?"

"Fine..."

Harry's puzzlement must have shone through the single word, for the casewitch began explaining that as she'd not yet conducted a routine visit to check on him, she might as well do so now. After that the questions were fairly innocuous, and seemed designed to put him at ease, an impression that was bolstered when completely out of the blue, she inquired, "How did learning Muggle fighting put bruises on your neck, Mr Potter? Those were reported as well."

Caught off guard despite his determination not to be, Harry murmured, "Those. Oh, those were a while back. Um, I think Severus was showing me a new hold..." Realizing that if he wasn't careful, his lie was going to sound as bad as Draco's usually did, Harry finished, "I can't really remember."

"I see," she said, in exactly that same tone Hermione had recently used. Before Harry could try to mitigate the damage, however, she was going on, "I believe I'll speak with Professor Snape, next."

"Nobody here is hurting me!" Harry protested. "If that's what you think. I mean, it's not, is it?"

She waved a wand toward the door, unlocking whatever protections her colleague had placed on it. "Summon your guardian for me, will you?"

"Father," Harry corrected, that time with a good deal more heat. He paused at the door, trying to think what else he could say to help, but the look on her face said there wasn't much.

Emerging from the room with grim features, Harry sighed and said, "She's ready for you, now, Dad."

Snape nodded, then with an encouraging glance in Harry's direction, disappeared into the room.

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"We aren't allowed to talk to each other," Draco spoke up as Steyne began warding the bedroom door.

"We have to sit here and say nothing?" Harry asked the casewizard, who merely shrugged.

"Um, why do you have to interview us?" he tossed out. "I mean, like this. Can't you just use Veritaserum or a pensieve to make sure I'm being treated all right here?"

Beside him, Draco stiffened.

Steyne noted that, but answered, "That's not the protocol."

"Wouldn't it make more sense?" Harry pressed. "I'd be glad to do it if it would clear this up."

"We at Wizard Family Services do not violate a child's rights," the casewizard pompously announced, reminding Harry a bit of Percy's self-important way of speaking.

He thought Draco must have caught on--about time for a Slytherin--for the other boy chimed in at that point, "You don't? That other fellow... Darswaithe, was it? He actually tried to abduct Harry here to deliver him to the Dark Lord! I had to save him. Good thing I was down here to do it."

"Good thing, yes," Steyne agreed in a tone that was somehow off. Or maybe, Harry reflected, he was just being too suspicious. Of course it was difficult not to be, after Darswaithe... "You are happy here then, Mr Malfoy?"

Draco, Harry noted, gave a nod that was very carefully bland.

"No regrets about the prospect of never returning to Wiltshire?"

"Wiltshire?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow.

"It's where the manor is," Draco said in a level tone. And then, in a harder voice to Steyne, "No, no regrets. Are you implying I should have some?"

Steyne raised one eyebrow. Personally, Harry thought the man was trying to pull off a bit of a Snape-impression, but he just didn't have the sort of sheer presence required for a thing like that. "I simply find your recent choices curious. We may not have spoken much, Mr Malfoy, but I do remember you. You used to go on for hours in the common room about your favourite topic. And now to see you friendly with him?"

At that, Harry had to raise an eyebrow of his own. "What, I was your favourite topic?"

"How much I hated you was," Draco admitted, scowling at Steyne for making him mention it. "People change. I'd think a casewizard would know that much. Didn't you have to take some psychology or counselling courses or something to get this job?"

"Draco!" Harry admonished. He couldn't believe that blatant rudeness would help their cause any.

"People don't change that much," Steyne flatly announced. "You, for instance. If you weren't holding court over how you detested Harry Potter, you were bragging about your father's millions. And now you've lost all that money, haven't you? And you expect me to believe you have no regrets," he scoffed.

"I have money of my own if you must know," was Draco's cool rejoinder. "And I for one find your comments impertinent."

"I'm doing the job I was hired to do," Steyne put in, his tones sardonic by then. Again, he couldn't carry it off the way Snape could. "I'm investigating the situation here to see if it is in the minor child's best interest to remain."

Harry didn't much appreciate being called the minor child, but the comment gave him a way to insert, "Oh, it is. Draco's been tutoring me in all my subjects and I've learned loads more than I would have in class, I bet. And Severus is really a wonderful father."

"Must be all that experience as a Head of House," Draco put in. "Mr Steyne could vouch for that, I bet."

"I think that's just about enough propaganda," Steyne cut off them off. "And quite enough discussion. You two aren't supposed to be talking to one another. Not about anything."

Harry thought about that. "We can play cards or something, can't we?" After Steyne nodded, Harry got out the Wizard's Scrabble from its shelf and began to shuffle the tiles. He'd hoped to be able to spell out a few words. Hints for Draco, about what he planned to say if the casewitch seemed to be taking Hermione's complaint too seriously. Steyne, though, was too smart for that. He watched them like a hawk, casting Harry a suspicious glance when the boy grinned over realizing he could use his x tile to make the word prolix.

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Snape sat beside him on the couch while the casewitch interviewed Draco. His father, Harry noted, was projecting an attitude of casual unconcern, as if he had no worries whatsoever about what Draco might be saying. His legs crossed one over the other, a potions journal propped up on his knee, Snape was simply reading, apparently wholly absorbed in study. Catching on after a few moments, Harry fetched the book that had caught Draco's interest earlier, and settled in himself to read Blood is Thicker than Potion.

It was really over Harry's head, but seemed to be about how certain classes of potions only affected specific wizarding bloodlines. It didn't interest Harry in the least, but he kept reading, mostly because he wanted to know what Draco had found so fascinating about the topic.

Harry thought that Draco and the casewitch were holed up in the bedroom for an awfully long time, but finally they came out, and she announced that she would speak to them all together. Harry wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, but he quickly decided not when she glared down from her less-than-impressive height and announced, "I am not satisfied as to the explanations I've been given for Mr Potter's injuries."

Shite, Harry thought, as on the other side of Snape, Draco went stiff and still.

"And the reason for your dissatisfaction, Miss Thistlethorne?" Snape inquired, his voice as mild as if he were merely asking for the date of his next shipment of shrivelfigs.

She glared even harder. "The complaint lodged against this placement was very specific, detailing a plethora of injuries that have yet to be explained to my satisfaction. If Professor Snape is indeed teaching you to fight, he is being far too rough. Wizard Family Services did not place you here so that you could be pummeled by your own guardian. Professor Snape has been negligent in his duty to ensure your physical well-being, Mr Potter--"

"He hasn't!" Harry objected. "He's been great to me!"

"Your opinion aside, this matter must be referred to Wizard Family Services for review."

"Severus isn't too rough on me, I swear--"

"You aren't the best judge of that, I'm afraid. Professor Snape is an adult. He should have realised that things were going too far during this..." She paused delicately. "Training."

This is it, Harry thought. Unadoption. She doesn't believe it's training at all. She thinks something else is going on, like that Severus is being purposely cruel, or that he's confusing me with James after all. She's going to follow her stupid policies and procedures, and some committee will look at this all wrong, and they'll probably think I had no business being adopted by a former Death Eater in the first place, and the casewitch will come back and it'll be my dream all over again. Snape'll have to give me up...

And then, one more thought rang through his mind. Time to change it. Time to defy the future.

"Sorry, Draco," Harry abruptly announced, jumping up from the sofa and walking away from the other boy. "We never counted on something like this, did we? I have to tell her."

Draco opened his mouth as though to object, then snapped it closed, his teeth making a clicking sound. Good thing he isn't trying to play along any more than that, Harry realised. What with him being such a lousy liar...

"You're right," Harry said, turning on a heel to face the casewitch. "Those would be too many injuries if I'd been getting them from Severus, who really does know better than to pummel me, as you put it. That's not how I've been getting hurt, though." Harry gave a heavy sigh. "I'm a Gryffindor, you know? I'm supposed to keep my word. And I promised Draco... but if it means clearing this up I guess I have to tell. The truth is, Draco and I have been messing around playing rugby."

"Rug-bee," the casewitch repeated, the word clearly unfamiliar to her. And that was enough of a clue for Draco.

"Muggle game," the Slytherin boy put in, the first word of that coming out with predictable disdain.

"We shouldn't have kept it a secret from Severus," Harry admitted. "And I definitely shouldn't have told him I was fine when I was really sore, and wore long sleeves to hide the bruises, but I knew that if he found out about the rugby, he'd put a stop to it," the boy sighed. "And I really missed it. I used to play rugby all the time before I came to Hogwarts. Neighborhood league, you know. And Draco caught me sketching out plays on parchment one day, and thought it was interesting looking, and one thing just led to another. So when Severus arranged for us to have some time outdoors, we thought we'd try a few rugby moves..."

"It surely can't be that violent a game," the casewitch said, frowning. "A Muggle sport?"

"Watch it on the telly some time," Harry advised, knowing that the comment would remind her how he'd been raised, and make it just a little bit more credible that he'd wanted to play a Muggle game. "Rugby's the reason why Quidditch has never seemed rough to me," he brazenly lied.

"And the reason you didn't simply explain all this when you had the opportunity?" she crisply asked.

"I told you, I didn't want Severus to know, and besides, I'd promised Draco--"

"Actually, it was Mr Malfoy whom I was asking," she clarified, turning a challenging gaze his way.

Draco flushed as he caught Harry's eye. Harry didn't know how well he was communicating the silent message For Merlin's sake, for once in your life tell a lie and make it stick... but in any case, the flush worked to their advantage, since it made the Slytherin boy look uncomfortable. That went along quite well with his drawled, "You know a bit about my background; do you think I'd want it getting around that I'd been spending my time on rubbish that Muggles dreamed up?" His silver eyes began to glint even as his voice went cool with satisfaction and arrogance. "And then there was the fact that I was so much better at it than Harry. That is, he was the one to come off the worse every time we played, which makes sense in a way. After all, I am a pureblood so it stands to reason I'd have finer reflexes and coordination and all that. But still, I hardly wanted people to know that not only did I play a Muggle game but that I was good at it."

"You lied to your father?" Snape icily inquired, standing to stomp over to Harry. "I was good enough to get you into the fresh air and sunshine as you asked, and my reward is to have you claim you're just going for a run to keep in shape, when in actual fact you're sneaking off to practice highly dangerous sports? It might surprise you to learn, Harry, that I've seen a spot of this rugby before! I do not appreciate finding out that you've been engaged in what to me seemed nothing short of organized suicide!"

Harry bit his lip. "Sorry," he murmured, and then in an undertone to the casewitch. "You can see why I didn't want to tell him."

"And to think that you concealed injuries," Snape spat in disgust. "I could have helped you, you idiot child!"

"But I knew you thought I'd already taken way too many potions recently, considering Samhain and all," Harry exclaimed. "I mean, that is why you warned me about not getting dependent on them, isn't it?"

"Dependency would not be a likely prospect had you not gotten yourself injured in the first place," Snape retorted. "And you," he roared, rounding on Draco, who rose gracefully to his feet. "You've been aiding and abetting this, have you? Not only that, but you knew Harry was sustaining injuries, and you just kept on playing this imbecilic game with him? What sort of brother are you?"

"A good one," Draco retorted. "Look, you haven't been around all the times he moaned for Diet Coke, or all the other Mugglish things he can't have here at Hogwarts. I was trying to cheer him up, if you must know, and if it meant playing a Muggle game--"

"If you're so enamoured of Muggle activities, perhaps I ought to have you scrub out all my cauldrons without using magic!"

"I don't believe Muggles have cauldrons at all," Draco pointed out, a comment which almost made Snape's ears steam.

"I'm sorry we lied to Severus, and I'm even more sorry we lied to Hermione," Harry hurriedly put in. "It's just that Draco was so embarrassed! And I was too, if you must know. Oh, not about the game itself, but that Draco kept getting the better of me? I didn't want Hermione to know that." Harry hung his head just a little bit. "I... um, sort of, er, like her, see?"

The casewitch studied them all, from Harry's blush to Snape's fatherly glower to Draco's defensive posture, and then turned to her assistant. "Richard?"

He took a moment to study them all as well, but his scrutiny somehow seemed colder than the casewitch's had been. "I've never seen it played," he finally admitted, with a significant glance at Snape, "but rugby is reputed to be quite a violent sport."

Harry must have looked a bit puzzled, because the casewitch explained, "Mr Steyne holds a degree in Muggle Studies."

"Oh, then you understand," Harry said, making sure he sounded relieved though what he was really thinking was, What sort of programme gives you a degree for knowing about Muggles, but doesn't even make you watch an actual rugby match?

Steyne's glance at him was strangely unreadable.

"The matter will still have to be reported," Amaelia Thistlethorne decided. "However, considering the circumstances, I will recommend nothing more than a warning."

"Warning?" Harry gasped, outraged. He didn't like the sound of that. Who knew what a warning in their file might lead to? "Draco and I were the ones breaking the rules, and you're going to punish Severus for it?"

"Professor Snape must be admonished to keep closer watch of his charges," the casewitch announced, only to colour a bit and correct herself, "Charge, rather."

"But that's not fair," Harry objected.

"You must forgive his presumption," Snape broke in, his tone apologetic. "It's the province of Gryffindors, I'm afraid, to believe life should above all be fair. I for one appreciate your having visited us today." His glower came roaring back. "If not for that, it would doubtless not have been brought to my attention that my supervision of the young men has been a bit remiss. Rest assured, there will be no more rugby," he sneered.

"And their consequence?" she inquired.

Harry thought she was the one being presumptuous. What business of hers was that? Actually, the question alarmed him. Why would she ask it, unless she thought the Potions Master likely to be cruel and vindictive?

Snape gave his sons a bland, superior sort of stare. "I do believe I have some books that have been grossly mis-shelved," he announced, flicking a derisive glance at the bookcases. "No doubt a pair of whimsical house-elves with no sense of organization whatsoever are to blame. The young men can correct the matter. Both of them," he added with a significant look at Draco. "And after that, we will have a talk."

"A lecture, he means," Draco confirmed to Harry.

"We get a lot of those," Harry sighed to the casewitch.

Amaelia Thistlethorne studied the three of them for what seemed an interminable moment, but in the end, she gave one of her brisk, businesslike nods, and indicated with a gesture that she and her colleague would be taking their leave. "We will, however," she thought to warn, "return unannounced for future random inspections."

"Of course, of course," Snape said, much in the tone of someone trying to soothe ruffled feathers.

"And of course if we receive further complaints," the casewitch added.

"You won't," Harry assured her. "Cross my heart. No more rugby."

Steyne turned back from the doorway to stare at him. "I should hope not."

The moment the casewizards had gone, Snape motioned for silence, then drew his wand and wrote in fiery letters that hung in the air, Watch what you say for a few minutes. There may be eavesdropping spells left in place but my wards will make short work of them.

Draco nodded, and turned to Harry. "What was that last bit? Cross your heart?"

"It's a Muggle thing. A way of saying that you promise..." Thinking back, Harry began to recite the entire poem. "Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye--"

Draco curled a lip. "That's not funny, Harry."

"No, it's not," he admitted, frowning. "But I'm not making it up. That is what Muggles say sometimes when all they mean is that something is true for sure."

"No wonder that Muggle game was so violent," Draco retorted, shuddering theatrically. Good thing there was no-one left to see it; it hadn't looked real at all.

"Well, you liked it, didn't you?" Harry came back, playing along.

"I didn't like getting Severus in trouble, though, but that's hardly my fault. It was your idea in the first place to play the stupid game--"

"It was your idea not to tell him--"

"That's quite enough," Snape broke in, shaking his head in amusement though his voice remained grim. "You two have some books to reshelve. I suggest you get on with it."

He left them to it.

And this time when Harry began heaving books from the bookcase to the table so that he could sort them properly, Draco actually helped.

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Snape checked that his books were coherently arranged in the bookcase, then informed them, "I've ascertained that there never were, in fact, any listening spells left behind."

"That makes sense," Harry remarked, frowning. "That Steyne fellow was pretty proud of the way their department doesn't violate a child's rights. As if he's forgotten about Darswaithe already! Not to mention, he was completely rude to Draco!"

"It's not a department, it's an adjunct services office," Draco scathed. "Which means, I suppose, that it's a bunch of people a little too full of their own importance, if you ask me. Sort of like your friend Hermione!"

"We will deal with Miss Granger later," Snape announced, his tones so dark that Harry shivered. He wondered what his father had in mind, though he was certain it wouldn't be expulsion or ten thousand lines. It might be something even worse.

Not that Hermione didn't deserve it, Harry thought, his thoughts going just as dark as Snape's voice.

As though aware Harry needed a distraction, Snape abruptly summoned a wrapped box from his bedroom, then handed it to the boy. "I had thought to keep this until you began attending classes once more, but considering your rather Slytherin performance today, I think it appropriate you have it now."

A present? Harry didn't know what to say. He covered the feeling by saying, "You caught on quick enough to my lies[.] And so did Draco.... I guess he's better at misdirection than I thought."

The Slytherin boy shrugged. "I suppose it's easier to follow a lie than make one up. Might explain why there's usually only one Dark Lord at a time," he mused.

"And Voldemort's lie was?" Snape briskly inquired.

Harry looked from Snape to Draco and back, intrigued.

A long-suffering sigh hissing through his teeth, Draco complained, "You're going to make me say it? Out loud?"

"I think you'd better," the Potions Master advised. "Because Harry will be leaving us soon, as you well know. What do you want him to remember about you when the Gryffindors begin--as is unavoidable--to complain that he's mistaken to trust you?"

"Oh, fine," Draco sighed, rolling his eyes. "Blood isn't everything, all right? Your mother was a Muggleborn, but here you are, the fruit of her loins, and a finer wizard the world's never seen. There, I said it. You're just as good as I am."

"Perhaps without the sarcasm, this time," Snape dryly inserted.

"I've said it to him before, if you must know," Draco exclaimed. "When we talked about Samhain. I admitted that pure blood hadn't given Lucius the guts to stand up to the Dark Lord! I admitted that I had some rethinking to do!" Then he glanced at Harry, and added, "I didn't mean it when I said I had better coordination because I was a pure-blood, you know. I was just playing into your lie."

"I knew you didn't mean it." Harry gave his brother a considering look, but knew better than to press for more. He was surprised that Snape had pressed that way, actually.

Draco gestured toward the package he still held. "Well, if that's all cleared up, then let's see what you've got."

After fumbling a bit with the simple grey ribbon, Harry popped off the lid of the box to reveal some tissue paper. Beneath that lay a pile of black, folded cloth, the weave fine for all the fabric itself was luxuriously thick. Curious, Harry lifted the garment and shook it out.

"A student cloak," he realised, smiling. The ones he'd bought at the end of the summer were getting a bit snug, he realised. "What a thoughtful present, sir. Thank you."

Draco suddenly barked a laugh. "Oh, that's marvellous, Severus. Who did the artwork?"

That was when Harry noticed the crest. The familiar Gryffindor lion, just as he'd worn for years, but with it, a snake, the symbol of Slytherin. A beautiful silver, the snake's tail was wrapped about one of the lion's paws; it's head was on a level with the lion's eyes. They were looking at each other, no hostility between them, as though his two houses were equal, and at peace.

Harry's smile reached his eyes. "Draco's right, that is marvellous."

Snape seemed to be watching him carefully, Harry thought. "You feel no apprehension at the thought of wearing it?"

"No. None. I am both and it might as well be acknowledged. I mean, I know people know already, but my friends are probably going to try to ignore the whole thing. I'm not about to do the same." Harry traced the snake with a fingertip, thinking. "It's a really good idea combining the two symbols. How did you think of it?"

Draco scoffed. "How did he think of it? I like that! It was my idea. You were going on about cobbling scarves together or some such nonsense, and I said to just add a snake to your crest and be done with it, remember?"

Snape nodded. "Though now of course the crest will serve far more than a mere symbolic function."

"Yeah. I really am both inside," Harry agreed. "It's not just because of the adoption." An impatient noise from Draco had Harry glancing at the Slytherin boy.

"It's more than that, Harry," Draco drawled, smug as always though he looked pleased to Harry's eye. "Your powers, remember? You happen to have quite an urgent need for a snake sometimes. What did you think you were going to do, cart Sals along with you to all your classes so you could cast spells?"

"I thought," Harry drawled right back, "that I'd make sure to have a drawing to look at. A doodle, on the cover of each textbook--"

"That wouldn't help you in the Great Hall during meals," Snape pointed out, elegantly seating himself and crossing his long legs.

"I don't incant much over mashed potatoes."

"You'll need to if you're attacked." Snape gave him a longish look, those dark eyes challenging him to think about the matter.

"Yes, sir," Harry quietly murmured. Then, sensing that his father needed more from him than that, he added, "We can't really stop people from knowing about the Parseltongue, but I suppose it would be best if they didn't know how much I need a snake to make it emerge. Cunning, right. The crest'll come in handy for that."

The Potions Master smiled in approval. "Look in the pocket."

When Harry did, he came up another snake-and-lion crest.

"For your Quidditch robes," Snape confirmed. "Let me know if you need further ones. I do not want you to be without, is that clear?"

"Yeah, put one on your pyjamas, too," Draco joked.

Laughing at the image that conjured up, Harry thought to wonder, "Where'd you ever hear of Diet Coke, anyway?"

"Dudley wanted one, remember?" Draco shrugged. "Actually, even before that I used to overhear your little girlfriend whinging on in the Great Hall about how she wished she could have one."

"For pity's sake, will you get it through your thick skull once and for all, she's not my girlfriend!"

"Sure she isn't. You only told the casewitch that you liked her--"

"That was misdirection and you know it. But speaking of liking her, why were you listening to her during meals, anyway? Maybe you're the one who likes her!"

Draco shivered. "Don't make me ill, Potter. Now, back to what matters. Did you happen to notice that when I said Diet Coke, Steyne there got a funny look in his eyes? Like he wasn't really sure what it was?"

Harry thought back. "Yeah, I got the feeling that degree in Muggle Studies or no, he didn't actually know all that much about Muggles."

"Why would a Slytherin pursue a degree like that, I'd like to know--"

"There you go again with the attitude, Draco. There's nothing wrong with Muggle Studies, and there's nothing wrong with Ron's father being fascinated by the topic, and while we're at it, there's nothing wrong with being poor, either!"

"Thank Merlin I'm not, though," Draco sneered.

Repressing an urge to sigh again, Harry turned to his father. "Thank you very much for the new cloak, Professor."

"Again with Professor?" Draco huffed.

"You said you were going to stay out of what I call Severus!"

"I concur that you should," Snape put in with a stern glance at the Slytherin boy. "Not only is my relationship with Harry mine and not yours, but it also might interest you to know that his verbal habits can be quite telling. For example," at this he turned back to Harry, "you tend to revert to Professor when you are feeling unsettled, worried, or insecure. So what is the matter?"

Harry thought of saying that nothing was, but his father's steady dark gaze challenged him to really consider the question. "I guess I feel sort of... strange, getting a present like this."

"I thought you were comfortable by now at the thought that I would provide for you."

"I am. Well, mostly..." Harry chewed his lip. "It's just that I forgot your own birthday, sir. I mean, Dad."

Snape shook his head slightly. "It's hardly accurate to say you forgot when in fact I hadn't ever mentioned the date to you, Harry. I honestly don't care whether people notice my birthday or not."

"I'm not people," Harry complained. "I'm your son!"

"So you are." Snape paused for a moment. "Perhaps you could help me with some correspondence? As I recall, you seemed to think my usual style of writing was a bit much."

A bad, bad feeling settled in Harry's chest. "You don't mean....?"

"Indeed." Snape's black eyes glittered as he flicked his wand and summoned parchment. "I do believe it is time we dealt with Miss Granger."

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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:

Chapter Sixty-Four: Duels and Deals

~

Comments very welcome,

Aspen in the Sunlight