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 Seventy-Two: Draco in Devon

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They Apparated into the field outside the cottage as usual, Snape holding onto Harry just a moment longer than was really necessary, but Harry thought that was all right. When the Potions Master's arms did drop to his sides, Harry glanced about the meadow with a frown. There wasn't any light coming from the cottage, which meant he couldn't see much, but how far away would Dumbledore be?

"Wasn't the headmaster coming, too?"

Snape's eyebrows drew together. "Perhaps he's gone to London to try to persuade Fudge to release some Order Aurors from the situation there."

"Hmm. Well, as long as we're alone for the moment..." Harry lowered his voice, then ventured, "Was that a real resignation you wrote out?"

Snape began to walk toward the cottage. "Oh, it was authentic."

Something in the man's tone caught on Harry's Slytherin consciousness. "It was authentic... but?" he asked, lengthening his stride to catch up.

"Ah, reading between the lines at last," Snape approved with a slight nod, before confessing, "I knew full well Albus wouldn't accept it. Be that as it may, however, had he not produced Lupin as requested..." The sentence hung in the air, unfinished.

"I understand," Harry murmured. Snape's loyalty to his family would be impossible to miss, he thought. "Um, I guess maybe I shouldn't have put you on the spot about Remus..."

"You guess that maybe you shouldn't have?" Snape mocked. "Is that supposed to be an apology?"

"Yeah, it was supposed to be one," Harry murmured. Funny, they'd had this same conversation before. Same words... but now, everything was different. Harry didn't mind that Snape might be annoyed with him. He didn't like it either, but they'd get over it; he was sure of that much. As far as apologies went, anyway, he thought his was a lot better than Snape's to Remus, but since it probably wouldn't do much good to point that out, Harry just frowned and said, "I wish Remus didn't have to do such a dangerous job--"

"Rubbing it in?" Snape said, his tone that time a bit more snarling than mocking.

"No, I just... never mind."

The Potions Master's feet stomped against spring grass as they made their way through the blackness. Harry didn't know how late it was, but it had to be nearing midnight. He did want to talk with Draco, but part of him began hoping his brother would be asleep. Draco probably needed a break from everything, and Snape hardly seemed to be in a sympathetic mood...

The interior of the cottage was dark, but a quick series of spells from Snape solved that. Lighted orbs made an appearance in the corners of the main room, casting eerie shadows in all directions. Glancing around, Harry saw that Draco was stretched out, laying full length on his back on the tattered sofa beneath the window. He wasn't asleep, though. His eyes, their hue a dull grey now, were wide open and staring at the ceiling. He looked almost... catatonic, Harry realised. Like all his joy in life had been sucked clean away. He didn't react when they came in; didn't even blink at the sudden onslaught of light.

"Draco," Snape urged, perching on the edge of the couch as he gently shook the boy's shoulder.

With a miserable groan, Draco rolled over onto his side and then levered himself into a sitting position, his every motion slow and awkward, like he'd grown old before his time. "Hallo there, Severus," he managed, the words a bit slurred.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Are you all right?"

Draco just sat there, his own gaze a bit unfocussed, though he did say, "Harry," when the other boy sat down on the opposite end of the sofa.

Harry gave him an encouraging smile. "Rough day, huh?"

A slow blink, like Draco had needed a while to understand the remark. "Oh. Yeah.... Hmm, your eye. Sorry about that."

"You said sorry already," Harry reminded him.

"I did?" Draco looked puzzled. "Oh. Sorry."

"Draco, did you take a second dose of Calming Draught?" Snape asked, his tone perfectly level, though Harry thought he caught a flash of genuine annoyance in his eyes.

Again, a pause as though Draco were struggling to make sense of the question. "Oh. Um, yeah. Couple of times, or maybe three... this awful feeling kept... anyway, you said to stay in the house but I was going barmy..." A loopy looking grin curled his lips. "Potion made it better. Thanks, Sev. Um, Severus."

Snape looked positively disgusted. "You must be considerably over the usual dose to think calling me Sev is appropriate at any time," he scorned, standing up so that he could fish in his voluminous cloak for one of the many potions he seemed to always carry. His hand emerged with a single dose vial held between long, elegant fingers. "Antidote," he said briefly, extending it towards Draco.

Harry leaned forward to grab his father's wrist before Draco could take hold of the tiny glass vial. "Maybe it's better to let him stay... er, relaxed?"

"After he's only recently emerged from Somulus? I think not," Snape retorted, staring at his wrist until Harry released it.

Draco grinned again, the expression even more silly than before, but his face was washed clean of any humour whatsoever the moment he swallowed the potion. He stretched, grimacing, muttering something derogatory about the couch. Then he seemed to remember he wasn't alone. "Oh. Sorry, Severus."

"That's three times now you've said sorry," Harry pointed out, concerned, and not just about the fact that it wasn't like Draco to apologise so profusely. There was also the fact that he'd apparently spent the whole evening on the couch, just staring into the blackness... of course the Calming Draught might account for that, but that was a concern in of itself.

To Snape as well, who proceeded to rasp, "Explain yourself. What did you think you were doing, taking an overdose of Calming Draught after I had specifically cautioned you to use it sparingly?"

Fidgeting a bit, and then actually sitting on his hands in an effort to still them, Draco admitted, "I was trying to stay in, that's what I was doing. I told you I wouldn't do anything stupid." He glanced at Harry's eye. "Anything else stupid, I mean... but I kept having such an awful urge to go outside for some air. The draught was all I had to help with it." He cleared his throat nervously, his gaze skittering over Snape and Harry both before fixing itself on the floor.

"The word tomorrow means nothing whatsoever to you?"

"Well, it was almost midnight," Draco muttered. "Technically that's tomorrow. And I couldn't breathe."

Harry noticed then that all the windows were open, and remembered all the times Severus had said Breathe, you idiot child to him when he was panicking. But Draco had been here all alone with only a potion to help him... When Harry thought about it, his heart sort of twisted inside his chest.

"We're here now," he offered with another encouraging smile. "We'll help you."

"Ha," Draco said, his usual personality back in force by then. He looked down his nose at Harry. "Nobody much can help me, the headmaster made that much clear. If Lucius can get the Board on his side, then that's it. I'll be kicked out of Hogwarts, and nobody can do a thing to get me back in, not even famous Harry Potter."

Ignoring that last bit, Harry confessed, "You know, I don't know much about boarding schools; it's not like the Dursleys were ever going to pay for me to go to one, but that no appeals rule strikes me as a little harsh."

Draco's face transformed itself into a scowl. "I know you were raised without a shred of proper culture, but do try to keep in mind that you're not in the Muggle world now, Harry. Hogwarts is a wizarding school, in case you hadn't noticed. Only a blithering idiot would think that Hogwarts would have to be run remotely like whatever passes for education where you're from--"

"Too bad you can't have more Calming Draught," Harry interrupted.

Draco looked about to make a scathing retort, but a glance from Snape cut it off. Merely sighing, then, the boy groaned, "If I get expelled, they'll probably take away my wand. Or break it, even... Severus, do they still do that?"

"After your dabbling you hardly deserve to keep that wand, do you?"

Personally, Harry thought Snape could stand to be a little more compassionate. Draco had made some dreadful mistakes, but he hardly needed them thrown in his face at the moment. He wished he could tell his father as much, but the mood Snape was in, it would just lead to an argument.

"We did find your wand, though," Harry thought to say, trying his best to stay positive. That was what Draco needed, surely? A little bit of hope?

"Can I have it back?" Draco asked, his voice slightly more cheerful. "I mean, at least until they--"

"No," Snape answered, his tone short. "Albus has it for the moment, and it will stay in his possession until further notice. You may use the wand I showed you."

"That old thing..."

"Was my grandfather's," Snape announced, his voice dangerously level.

"Oh." Swallowing his complaints, Draco gave a sharp nod. "Well in that case, I'm honoured," he softly admitted, the formal tone of the words reminding Harry of the well-wishing ceremony. "All I meant was.... well, it works all right for me, but you know how it is. It's just not what I'm used to."

It was the first time Snape had mentioned anything much about his family, though of course the fact that his grandfather had possessed a wand was hardly news. Harry wanted to ask a few leading questions, but it hardly seemed the time. And besides, at that moment the door creaked open.

"Bit chilly in here," remarked Albus Dumbledore. A slight wave of his wand had the windows shutting themselves and the curtains fluttering half-way closed.

"You have been to the Ministry?"

"No, back to Hogwarts, Severus." Turning toward the couch, the headmaster glanced at the two boys sitting together. "And how are you doing... Draco?"

Harry was sure that slight emphasis on the name was no mistake. Dumbledore was making a point. Too bad Harry wasn't sure what it was. It could be that the headmaster was recognizing a mistake and correcting it... or the name could simply be strategy. Or maybe, he thought, he'd been a bit wrong about the names business to begin with. Now that he thought about it, hadn't that Christmas present from the headmaster to Draco been labelled with just the boy's first name?

Whatever the truth was, the shift wasn't lost on Draco himself. He started, then shrugged. "Um, I suppose I'm all right." Harry could see him hesitate, then plunge ahead, "It... It was Pansy who fell, then? There's no doubt, none at all, no possible way she's..."

Seating himself on the low table to face Draco, the headmaster shook his head. "I wish I had better news to bring, my boy."

Draco drew in a long, shuddering breath and blew it out like a sigh. "I think I won't really believe it until I... I don't suppose I might be allowed to go to her funeral?"

Harry was a little bit surprised when Dumbledore didn't answer that, even though Draco had clearly been speaking to him, not Snape. The headmaster actually took a step back as he waved for the Potions Master to speak.

"I am sorry, Draco," Snape answered, a little of the compassion Harry had hoped for there in his voice, at last. "The Parkinsons want the funeral held at Hogwarts, but they were adamant that you not attend. They know you put their daughter in St. Mungo's some months back; when we told them of the accident they assumed straight away that you were responsible. We did our best to dissuade them..." Snape shrugged as though to say that as expected, it was a lost cause.

Draco nodded, the motion jerky and disjointed, his eyes blinking so furiously that Harry was sure he must be near tears, though of course the Slytherin boy was far too proud to actually break down in front of Harry. "Can I at least see her beforehand?" he said, the words about as close to begging as Draco Malfoy could possibly come. Or perhaps he could come closer than Harry realised, for he continued, "Please? Please, Severus. Just one minute, that's all I need. I... it's all so... it's like I can't believe it, like it can't be true, but if I saw her..."

Snape nodded, but in sympathy, not to agree to the request. "You need closure," he simply stated, the word reminding Harry of the things he'd read in that Road to Recovery book. "It is only to be expected that you can't truly accept what has happened without proof of some sort, Draco. But as for viewing the body..." Snape sadly shook his head. "That will not help, I am afraid. After the violence of her passing, Miss Parkinson does not resemble herself."

"Oh, that's ridiculous," Draco objected.

"Corpus Aqueous," Snape informed him.

Draco pulled his hands out from beneath his legs in a reflexive motion, raising them to his mouth as though to hold in a sudden surge of nausea. Clearly, he didn't need the curse explained, though between his fingers he did moan, "I... I'd still really like to see her one last time, Severus..."

"No, my boy, you wouldn't," Dumbledore softly insisted. "It's far better to remember her the way she was in life."

Draco glanced up then, his eyes a dull grey covered by a sheen of tears. One dropped past his lashes as he gave another one of those awful uncoordinated nods.

"Here, I've brought something for you to read," Dumbledore went on, reaching inside his robes for a thick scroll of parchment.

"Expulsion papers?" Draco bitterly joked, wiping furiously at his cheek as though disgusted with that single tear.

"It's the school charter," Albus explained. "Not the full charter, of course. That would be a few dozen scrolls, most of them in Latin. But this section was revised within my own lifetime." He smiled slightly. "There were those who wanted to maintain the entire document in Latin, but Headmaster Dippet and I managed to convince them that it was time to include English in our venerable tradition."

"Uh, thank you, sir," Draco murmured, breathing deeply as though to get himself under control. "But... why provide me a copy of this?"

The headmaster merely gestured for him to unroll the scroll and begin reading. "Oh." Draco looked up with sombre eyes. "I understand. It's about expulsion. Procedures, student rights, parental rights. Ha, like those matter a shrivelfig."

"All parental rights rest in your own person because you are an emancipated minor. And forewarned is forearmed," the headmaster pronounced. "Should it come to that, it is best for you to fully understand what we are facing."

"Should it come to that?" Draco repeated, clearing his throat. "That's an odd thing to hear. Word of the murder's gotten out by now, I expect."

"Yes, but there's been a notable silence from the Board as of yet."

Harry felt relief washing over him. "There, you see? Lucius must have realised that this plan is simply mad, he can't possibly get away with it--"

"Harry," Snape interrupted. "That's a rather Gryffindor interpretation."

Draco nodded agreement. "Tactics, Harry. He's waiting for the Aurors to do their job. Once I've been charged with murder, it hardly matters if I'm expelled as well. And if by some miracle I'm not charged... well, Lucius has failed before to expel me, so I expect this time he'll have someone else push for it. He's going to go to great lengths to look neutral..." The Slytherin boy sat up straight, holding himself so rigidly that Harry knew he must be afraid he might crumple. "He might even speak on my behalf, but it'll all be a feint to make sure this time, everything looks above-board." Draco's hand tightened around the scroll, but not enough to damage it. "Thank you, Headmaster. I'll make sure I understand the procedures, make sure I'm prepared to put forth the best possible defence."

Albus favoured him with a quiet smile. "Do. And keep in mind, we are working on that miracle for you."

"We?" Draco sighed. "Oh, you and Harry and Severus."

"The Order of the Phoenix," Albus corrected. "We owe you a great debt. Indeed, one it would be most difficult to repay, Harry's wand being of uncalculated worth in this struggle."

Draco glanced down. "I... When you said you'd help me, I thought you just meant... you."

"I suspect that what you actually thought was that I didn't mean it in the least," Albus returned, his voice keeping to the soothing tones he'd used since his arrival at the cottage.

"Well, you were sure I'd killed her," Draco pointed out, his own voice small.

"I did think that, yes," Albus admitted. "It did not sit well with me that after all I had done for you, you turned on Harry."

"I didn't turn on him," Draco exclaimed, looking horrified at that interpretation.

"I know," Albus soothed. "You acted your age, which took me aback, I suppose, because during these past months you have vastly exceeded my expectations. It cannot have been easy, what you have lived through. That I was so very disappointed in you must show you that I had come to believe quite firmly in your fealty to Harry. To depend on you as an ally in this war, Draco."

"You can depend on me--"

"I know," Albus said again, his blue eyes steady and sincere. He stared at Draco a moment more, as though testing whether the Slytherin boy believed him. Then rising to his feet, he announced, "Severus is right that I should take a short trip to London... I'll leave you three to family matters, then."

Snape's glance at him was swift and assessing, but the Potions Master said nothing as Dumbledore let himself out through the door.

Harry waited until he heard the slight pop of Apparation before questioning, "Family matters?"

"I believe Albus is indicating his acceptance of the situation," Snape explained. "You did rather emphasise the point when you rebuked him on the matter of names. Not that it is your place to lecture the headmaster--"

"What did Harry say?" Draco asked, looking from one to the other.

"Oh, nothing," Harry passed it off.

"He only declared," Snape wryly detailed, "that if I found it necessary to leave the country with you to keep you safe from the Dementors, he would come wander the world with us."

"Yeah, well he's the one who resigned," Harry pointed out.

Draco's face went paler than usual. "Severus, you resigned from Hogwarts? Over me?"

"You are my son, are you not?"

"I don't want to cost you your job--"

"The headmaster didn't accept the resignation," Harry hurried to explain, wondering why his father hadn't made that clear. "Severus still has a job. So that's all right."

Harry would have thought that the news would have Draco feeling better, but the other boy still looked ill. Probably the mention of the Dementors. "We won't let anything bad happen to you, Draco," he promised. "We won't, all right? We'll go hide where the Ministry can never find us if it comes to that. We know you didn't do anything wrong."

"We know you didn't commit murder," Snape coolly interrupted. "However, there is the matter of your wand, Draco. Your dabbling. Under the circumstances that worked out well, as it foiled the conspirators, but still, I cannot condone your foray into the Dark Arts. Particularly not considering the way you were raised; you may be more susceptible to the lure than you realise."

"Then why'd you leave the book in plain reach?" Draco rudely questioned, going on the offensive. "You know how potions fascinate me, and you knew I was looking into bloodlines and such, and you left a book on kinship potions in the stacks Harry and I were supposed to shelve?"

"I did not know that you were baffled as to the essential difference between reading and brewing!"

"Yeah, well I'm susceptible to the lure, remember?"

"It's not Severus' fault you brewed the potion," Harry told his brother. "You could at least have discussed it with him first."

"Oh, like you're so sodding perfect--"

"Harry is not the issue, nor will you fashion him into one," Snape rebuked the Slytherin boy. "To return to what I was saying. I have been thinking on your punishment. You have a great deal of time to fill; you may as well be thinking on improving your character. Hence, I have decided to assign you some lines."

Draco crossed his arms and just waited, his whole posture braced to hear the rest.

"Ten thousand," Snape added, a little bit snidely as far as Harry was concerned. "Since you told me more than once how appropriate the number was for Mr Weasley."

The Slytherin boy looked as though he might object to that, but in the end, all he said was a sullen, "Fine."

"Without your magic quill, and on parchment charmed to resist... shall we say, any creative attempts to avoid writing all ten thousand." Snape glanced at his other son. "Harry, fetch some... where are the things you brought from home?"

"Um, left them back in Grimmauld Place," Harry admitted with a small smile. "Sorry. You know, things got pretty, uh... hectic, there."

"What was hectic?" Draco wanted to know.

Harry bit his lip.

"Oh, I get it. Secrets..." The Slytherin boy sighed. "I don't blame you. Well, actually I do, it wouldn't be Slytherin not to, after all, but I do understand. The Aurors will be demanding to see me, and I'm probably more rattled by all this than a Malfoy ought to be, so it's best you keep your secrets from me. Too bad I know so many of them already, Harry. But I will watch what I say, though after today I'm not surprised you don't trust me much--"

"Draco, shut up," Harry finally urged. "Look, I dreamed ages ago that we would end up brothers, but I never dreamed it would be like this. I do trust you, all right? And even if this eye goes blind, I won't hold it against you, because I know you weren't trying to blind me when you lost your temper."

"Merlin's robes, you really are too Gryffindor sometimes, do you know that?" Instead of appearing to appreciate Harry's sentiments, Draco scowled. "I'd never forgive anybody who blinded me. That's just... stupid, Harry."

"The amulet I gave you burned you," Harry countered that. "And you may end up scarred. So is that it, then? You're never going to forgive me?"

"You didn't make it heat up like that," Draco argued, blowing out his breath through his nostrils. "But I'm not going to wear it again, if that's what you're asking. Severus?"

"Albus will decide when to best inform the Aurors of the amulet and the resulting scar," Snape explained, understanding what the other boy had meant to ask. "The amulet is in his possession."

"Good," Draco shortly announced. Without a word, he reached into a trouser pocket and drew out the wand Snape had lent him, holding it rather awkwardly as he pronounced a charm to undo the top few buttons on his shirt. "There. See, I didn't heal it. I can do some things I'm told without fucking them all to bits."

"We didn't think you'd healed your burn!" Harry exclaimed.

"Just as well to take a closer look at it, though," Snape announced, drawing his own wand to examine the wound, which was only slightly less inflamed than before.

Draco shrugged away, buttoning up his shirt by hand, his fingers fumbling. "For Merlin's sake, Severus! If you're going to play mediwizard, it's Harry's eye you should be examining!"

"It's my best judgment that the swelling needs to recede before I attempt any cure or glamour."

"Well it has receded compared to last I saw it."

Snape stared at Harry as he considered that. "Yes, but not enough."

"Look, I'm sure everything will be fine," Harry said, thinking to lighten the mood. "After all, I only dreamed of going blind once--"

"Yeah, and we all know how reliable your dreams are, don't we?" Draco closed his eyes. "Any more dreams of Lucius, Harry? I can't stop thinking about that. I keep saying to myself, what if... even though I know the whole thing is daft. But I can't stop thinking it. And then I panic, thinking that there's some sort of chance I'm wrong. And then I panic in case I'm wrong to think I could be wrong." Opening one eye only, Draco flicked a glance at Severus. "That was why I couldn't breathe. Well, that and the fact that dear old Dad and I might end up in the same cell in Azkaban. And you wonder I needed a few extra doses of Calming Draught!"

Harry cast his father a pleading look. "We have to tell him. Anything else is just cruel. He's going to be all alone here for who knows how long, and it's going to prey on his mind, and you know Draco and his impulse control... he has to know the truth, don't you think? What if he panics again and makes another truly horrible decision?"

"Thanks for that sterling opinion of my character," Draco said, leaning back, looking completely defeated. "Not that I know what you're talking about."

Severus glanced at the boy, his brow wrinkling. "You were right before that I am concerned about how... unlike yourself you are at the moment, Draco. Rattled is not a bad description, all things considered. But Harry is right as well, that it seems you must know certain things about that dream."

"It's like this--"

"Certain things," Snape repeated, directing a stern glare at Harry. "I will tell him what I deem advisable, and you will not augment what I have disclosed. Not one additional detail, is that clear? And Draco, you will not ask for details. You will not attempt to Slytherin them out of Harry." He waited until Draco and Harry had both nodded. "We found out the truth about Lucius."

The Slytherin boy sat up straight, his eyes faintly gleaming silver as they leapt open. "And?"

"It was not Lucius whom Harry saw helping Muggleborns; Harry was mistaken. More than that I will not say, but I quite assure you, there is no doubt whatsoever."

"I'm not so good at taking things on faith, Severus."

"No, nor I," Snape admitted. "But in this case, I am afraid you must."

Draco glanced from father to son, then shrugged. "All right... I knew it couldn't really be what it seemed. Though it was nice thinking it might be, even though I knew it really couldn't be and I knew better than to think he could ever be nice..." Draco began to rub his temples, his brow deeply furrowed. "Merlin, I sound like I've taken a Babbling Beverage. I don't suppose I can have any clear-thinking draught?"

"On top of everything else, no." Snape stared at him for a moment, then stepped closer to both boys. "What you need most, I think, is healthy natural sleep. Which not coincidentally, is what your brother needs as well."

"How long until I get to come home?" Draco asked, sounding plaintive.

Snape looked from one boy to the other, then sighed. "I'm in two minds about this, to say the least..." His voice firming, he announced, "I'm reluctant to leave you here alone tonight, Draco, but I must return to Hogwarts to monitor the progress of the investigation and assist Albus with anything we can do to bring some Order Aurors into it. I cannot bring you home until I have some assurance that you will be safe there--"

"It's all right," Draco interrupted, grimacing. "I know you can't do anything. I told you I was babbling."

"I can do something," Snape corrected. "Loath as I am to admit it, leaving you here alone was an error. Harry will stay with you tonight. In the morning we can re-evaluate how... rattled you remain."

Draco's face flushed pink. "How humiliating. I need a keeper now? I can't be trusted to behave?"

"You just need some company, I think," Harry chimed in. He was about to add that he'd be mental, too, if he was facing what Draco was... but at the last second, he decided it wouldn't help to say that. Jumping up, he glanced into the small cottage's sole bedroom. "Hmm, one big bed again? Did your transfiguration from before come undone?"

"Oh, please, Potter," Draco sneered. Harry could tell it was an act, though. Deep down, Draco was pleased and relieved that he'd have someone to talk to for a bit. "Unlike you, I'm actually quite skilled at transfiguration; my spells don't just fall apart! I had to do something to practice with that wand. Can you blame me if I thought it might be nice for a change to really stretch out--"

"You could have practiced using the wand on the charmed box," Snape pointed out, waving toward the table where it still sat. "I told you the spell, but I gather you haven't bothered to eat? You're to rectify that while Harry and I return to Grimmauld Place to get the things he left there."

"You could leave him here so I have some company during dinner," Draco wheedled.

"I have a few things to say to him," Snape explained.

Draco made a face. "Things about me?"

"Things about him," the Potions Master coolly corrected. "We will be some time."

Harry didn't like the sound of that, but he didn't fool himself that he had much of a choice. "See you in a bit, Draco," he said, standing when Snape made an impatient gesture.

"Yeah..." Draco stood up and made his way over to the table. "Thanks, Harry, Severus."

Snape seemed about to say something, but whatever it was never found voice. Instead, he beckoned Harry to walk outside with him. Without a word, they Apparated back to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

"Thanks for deciding I could stay over in Devon," Harry murmured before pushing away from his father's embrace. "I think that'll be good for Draco. It's too bad you can't join us. It was great there at Christmas, the three of us together. Well, after Draco and I worked out the Samhain thing."

"Assuming recent events do not completely change my plans, we will spend some time in Devon this summer," Snape assured him. "All three of us together."

"A family, like Dumbledore said. You know, I think he's starting to come around--"

"Professor Dumbledore," Snape interrupted. "And yes, I know it's been a long while since you heard me insist on his proper title. I begin to think I've made an error in judgment with you. Sit down."

An error in judgment.... An image of the unadoption dream flashed through Harry's mind, but he pushed it away as he sat down in one of the armchairs nearby. Snape seated himself in another one, but first he pulled it to face Harry, tugging it so close that when he did sit down, their knees nearly touched.

"Do you think Professor Dumbledore is beginning to view us as a family?" Harry tried again.

"I think he has realised at least that he might as well accept matters," Snape explained, steepling his fingers and looking at Harry over the top of them. "I also think that you are trying your best to direct the flow of this discussion. I did not bring you here to discuss the headmaster."

Harry leaned back, away from those piercing eyes. "Right, you wanted to discuss me." He was about to ask if he would have to write lines alongside Draco, something like I will not attempt untested wanded magic alone again, but at the last moment he realised that it wouldn't be too Slytherin to remind his father about the way he'd changed that picture frame into a viewing wall. "Um, so what about me?"

"Oh, surely you can guess," Snape drawled, leaning forward yet further, his eyes piercing Harry's. "Considering the context? And what I just said about an error in judgment?"

Harry slumped slightly. "Oh. Yeah, I can guess. Respect."

"Indeed."

"I said I was sorry--"

"No, you said you guessed that maybe you should not have spoken to me thus." Snape's fingers tautened, the steeple they were forming about to fly apart from the stress. He looked as though he was having trouble speaking, or perhaps deciding what to say, Harry thought, an impression which was confirmed when the man practically spat, "Do you have any idea what would have happened to me had I ever spoken to my father like that? And what would have happened had I had the temerity to apologise with words like guess and maybe?"

Finally, a real detail about Snape's childhood, his family... and it had to come in a context like this. Maybe that was the only way, though, Harry reasoned. "No, I don't have any idea," he quietly admitted. "I can't possibly have any idea, because you don't much talk about things like that."

"And why do you think that is?"

Harry could feel his neck growing hot. "Well, I figured out a while ago that your childhood must have been about as bad as mine."

Snape just stared at him.

"All right, worse," Harry sighed. "What does this have to do with respect, though? I'm sure you must know that I respect you one hell of a lot, Severus. You've been through awful things, but you've overcome them. If I didn't respect you I'm sure I couldn't really have made you my father where it counts. I don't mean on the adoption papers."

"You show in many ways that you deeply respect me, Harry," Snape admitted, dropping his hands to his lap as he leaned back. "Sometimes to an excessive degree. But that's another conversation. This one is about a concept you appear to have difficulty mastering: public respect."

"It was so bad of me to point out that you've really misjudged Remus?"

"To point it out, no." Snape narrowed his eyes. "To point it out when we were not alone, yes. And that is not even considering the way you ordered me to apologise, as if you indeed were the father and I the child. This fact may escape your attention, but for all that Albus is a friend of many years' standing, he is also headmaster at the school where I am employed. Your behaviour caused my employer to speculate, in my presence no less, that I was no more mature than a toddler," he sneered. "Is that your idea of respect, then?"

"I'm sorry!" Harry blurted. "I am, all right? But Remus doesn't deserve to be treated the way you keep treating him."

"And I do not deserve to be treated the way you keep treating me!" Snape countered, raising his voice. "We have discussed this before, Harry."

"Look, just because your father never let you speak your mind doesn't mean that you and I have to follow the same rules--"

Wrong thing to say. Definitely, the wrong thing. Harry knew that much from the way Snape's lips curled in disdain. "Merlin's blood, Harry! How dare you imply that I have taken my father as some sort of model! I do let you speak your mind. In the privacy of our own home, I let you say any stupid thing you like to me, and you know it! I am not like my father!"

"All right, all right," Harry backtracked, holding up his hands.

But Snape wasn't finished. "My father did worse to me than the Dursleys ever did to you," he continued, fingers now curling into fists on the arms of the chair. "I will not discuss the details; you have nightmares enough already. But you would do well to leave my father out of any discussions you and I conduct."

"Yes, sir," Harry murmured, a little taken aback. What had the man done to Snape?

Shaking his head, Snape conjured a small glass of something and began to sip at it. When a smell reminiscent of liquorice wafted across the short distance to Harry, he thought it must be Galliano. He wasn't sure what to think about that. He was driving his father to drink? That was a pretty awful thought.

"Does it impress you," Snape asked rather caustically, "that you have this evening compelled me to break an oath? I swore I would not talk about my own father to you, Harry. Ever. And now I have. Are you proud of yourself?"

"No," Harry answered honestly. "But... about this not talking. That's no good. I mean, it's not like I want to pry just for the sake of it. I need to know you better. Otherwise, it's kind of like... um, like we're not family at all, actually."

"I will not infect this family with even remnants of the illness that plagued my childhood," Snape retorted. "And you will not persuade me with pseudo-psychological arguments. You do not know what you are talking about."

"What about the book? It said it was good to talk, you know..."

"Sometimes it is also good not to." Snape sighed, shaking his head. "Samhain, Harry. That was a horrendous experience for you. Have I ever sought to make you speak of it, relive it out loud? The book recommended you be encouraged to talk about it with someone whom you trust, but I knew you better than any book. You needed someone you could trust, yes. I have sought to be that for you, but I will not press you to suffer again that which you should never have suffered at all. I ask the same consideration of you."

"All right, I understand." Harry nodded.

"Good." Pausing, Snape glanced at Harry over his glass. "I should have asked, would you like something to drink as well?"

Harry wasn't thirsty, but it seemed like Snape was trying to be civil, so he didn't want to refuse. "Um, sure, some lemonade would be nice."

Snape flicked his wand in three precise arcs and a glass glimmered into existence in Harry's hand.

Smiling his thanks, Harry tasted it. Hmm, bit more sour than he liked, but he passed that off as Snape not being in a very sugary mood. "Thanks," he murmured.

Snape nodded briefly, then lapsed into a silence broken only by the clinking of ice. For a few moments, Harry thought it was just a pause for the man to assemble his next rebuke; he was slow to realise that his father was waiting for him to respond to all that had already been said... giving him a chance to speak his mind. In private.

He could say anything he liked to Snape now, he knew. Anything at all; Snape wouldn't punish him for speaking his mind. He just wanted him to wait until they had a time like this, a time alone, before Harry began to rail against him. Was that so much to ask? Uncle Vernon had never made Harry feel as if his comments were allowed at all.

The boy stared down into his lemonade, suddenly glad he had something to hold, because only then did he begin to understand something of what his behaviour must have looked like to his father. It was a sobering realisation. At that moment, he wondered why the man even wanted to keep him around. "I am sorry," he said, the words that time heartfelt. "I wasn't trying to humiliate you or anything like that. I just wanted you to be fair to Remus."

"Another thing we had best discuss," Snape sighed, taking a rather large swallow of Galliano that time. "Harry, I am Head of Slytherin. Fairness is not a quality I have ever aspired to. Moreover, you have known me for six years, most of that time in a context guaranteed to ensure that you became well-acquainted with my harsher qualities. I refuse to believe that you can really entertain fantasies about me changing so radically."

"I... well, I think I understand that's not going to happen," Harry acknowledged. "And it's not like I want you to change everything. I like you as you are, and I think we get on, and um... I think Mrs Weasley was right that you can give me the kind of support I really need. You're a good father," he finished, looking down because what he had to say next was harder. "There um, are some things you could improve on, though. I mean... I understand I shouldn't have gone about things the way I did, but you did apologise to Remus in the end. That was good. I mean, I thought so."

Snape downed the remainder of his liqueur and set the glass down with a thud. "I did not think so, and furthermore, I have no need for my interactions with other adults to be managed by a sixteen-year-old. Do my wishes mean literally nothing to you?"

Harry coloured. "I just don't like the two of you at odds."

"Be that as it may, in front of others you simply must refrain from criticising me, Harry. Even if you believe I am being grossly unfair. Even if I am being unfair to Gryffindor and your friends are insisting you do something about it."

"You're thinking of class," the boy realised.

"We'll be in class together soon," Snape affirmed. "It will be good for you to return to a normal routine, but I admit I am not looking forward to sixth-year Potions with you."

That sort of hurt Harry's feelings, even though he had often felt approximately the same way.

"You have never particularly appreciated my classroom demeanour," Snape went on, "or my methods of instruction. As far as I am concerned, you are entitled to an opinion. But now, being my son, you may well feel entitled to voice your opinion in full view of the other students. That, I cannot tolerate."

"I won't say anything in class," Harry heavily promised. "I won't, all right? I'll just take notes and brew and clean up my own boilovers as best I can, and I won't ask you for a thing, I swear. I'll pretend I don't know you from Adam."

"Who?"

"Never mind," Harry muttered, feeling progressively more awful. "It'll be like this year never happened, that's what I meant."

Snape drew his feet in toward his chair, his hair swaying as he shook his head to reject that solution. "I don't expect that; I don't even wish it. Everyone does already understand that you are now my son, and I've no desire to claim otherwise in class or out of it. What I ask is that you not argue with me in front of other students."

Harry mutely nodded.

"It's an easy thing to promise," Snape pointed out.

"I'm a Gryffindor," Harry stressed, glaring. "I keep my promises."

"See that you keep this one. If you try to talk me out of points from Gryffindor I'll have to take points from you, and you know what that does to the counters. I'll be quite annoyed if Slytherin loses points on your account. Remember that."

Harry relaxed a little, then. "But you don't take points from Gryffindor like you used to, do you? I mean, for no reason at all?" When Snape merely raised his eyebrows as if to say, I do believe we just covered that, Harry suddenly felt as though he had swallowed a bellyful of lead. "You mean Ron was right? You kept picking on Gryffindor, even after you adopted me?"

Snape didn't nod to acknowledge that, but neither did he deny it.

"You kept right on taking unfair points, giving Hermione all the hardest questions, ignoring the way Crabbe and Goyle practically fall into their cauldrons?"

"Crabbe and Goyle are not in sixth-year Potions," Snape pointed out.

"You know what I meant."

"Yes," the Potions Master admitted. "Harry, what is fair is very rarely strategic. As estranged as I have been from many of my Slytherins, I've no desire to alienate them yet further. Changing my classroom practices could only accomplish that. Surely you can see that much?"

Harry could, but all the same... "Do you still hate Gryffindors on principle?" he blurted. "I mean... if the Sorting Hat had never wanted to put me in Slytherin at all, would you still..."

"Love you?" Snape blew out a breath. "How can I answer that? What if I had never masqueraded as Lupin? What if your aunt had been cured by the bone marrow and you had never fallen ill? What if Lupin hadn't had a hankering for ice cream--"

"I get the point," Harry dryly put in. "But you didn't answer my question, did you? Do you still hate Gryffindors just because of where they were sorted? Because, no offence, but that's not very strategic."

Snape's lips curled slightly upwards. "Using my own words against me. Now that, Harry, is quite Slytherin."

"I think I'm actually more Gryffindor--"

"I know for certain that you are," Snape calmly interrupted. "I have accepted that I have a Gryffindor son, that I in fact chose a Gryffindor son. It doesn't change who I am and it certainly doesn't make me like Gryffindors on principle. That really should be enough for you."

It was and it wasn't, but Harry couldn't think about it any longer, not just then.

Levering himself to his feet, the Potions Master studied the books and school folders stacked on a side table. "Draco will need more parchment," he decided, abruptly drawing his wand and summoning some from upstairs.

"For ten thousand lines, I guess so," Harry sighed. "Well, since we are alone maybe it's a good time for me to ask why you have to be so..."

"Cruel?" Snape guessed, dark eyes glimmering. "Authoritarian? Dictatorial?"

Harry said nothing, his own gaze merely challenging Snape to think about it.

The Potions Master stacked the parchment that had flown into his hands and extended it towards Harry. "Draco's going to have great deal of time to fill," he pointed out. "The lines will give him something on which to focus. And too, the finite nature of the assignment will help him, I think. He needs to be able to see an end in sight. Not to mention, what he has to write will tend to make him angry. Better that than he broods."

Accepting his father's judgment --strange and Slytherin as it was-- Harry took the parchments from Snape's hand. "So what does he have to write?"

"You'll see," Snape answered. Harry took that to mean that he didn't want to debate it.

Harry gathered up the rest of Draco's schoolbooks and notes, then looked expectantly toward his father.

Instead of pulling him close so they might Apparate, however, Snape held up a hand as though to warn him. "I am quite serious about your keeping Lupin's secret from Draco," he insisted in a tone that would brook no disobedience. "If I find out that you have contravened my wishes I will be most displeased, especially as it means I would not trust you again to keep Draco company. So see to it that you keep hold of your tongue."

"Yes, sir."

Snape gave him a slightly impatient glance. "Save that for class, Mr Potter."

Harry thought about that for a minute. "You like to divide things up, I think. One thing for class, another thing for home. But if we're having a serious conversation and I say yes, sir, it doesn't mean I'm thinking you as my teacher. It just means... I want you to know I'm taking you seriously."

"Hmm." Snape beckoned him so they might Apparate. "That will do, I suppose. But please . . ."--his mouth quirked a bit--"restrict Professor to class alone."

"Sure, Sev," Harry quipped, smiling back. "No? Oh, all right. Dad it is."

-------------------------------------------------

"You were gone forever," was Draco's petulant greeting when they entered the cottage for the second time that night.

"Twenty-eight minutes is not forever, Draco," the Potions Master dryly informed him, his gaze sweeping the table. Apparently unsatisfied with what he saw there, he pressed, "Have you eaten?"

"Yes, lobster bisque followed by duck à l'orange with wild rice, if you must know," Draco haughtily replied. "And I asked the box for a nice bottle of Château Manos, and it gave me milk. Milk, I tell you! To go with duck! It's practically sacrilege."

"Actually, it's under orders not to provide you with liquor."

Draco's mouth dropped open. "I didn't ask for liquor, for heaven's sake, just a civilised dinner. What is this, Severus? You never objected before to me having wine with the evening meal!"

"I object to it when you're depressed and dining alone."

"Well, there is that," Draco murmured.

"Here," Harry put in, stepping between them. "I brought your school things."

"Oh, those will do me a lot of good. I'm shortly to be expelled, remember?"

"You need an education whether you are expelled from Hogwarts or not," Snape announced in a tone that would brook no dispute. "And you will get one, make no mistake."

Draco grimaced a bit and didn't reply. He did take the books and parchments though, briefly glancing through them before setting them aside.

"Keep up with your assignments," Snape advised. "Harry and I will keep you apprised of what those might be. Furthermore, I expect you to make good progress on your lines. All ten thousand of them, is that clear? I believe it took Mr Weasley something over thirty days to complete his--

"Will you kindly stop throwing Weasley in my face?" Draco gritted. "So I laughed that he had lines to write! What are you trying to do, teach me that I shouldn't have?"

"I'm trying," Snape calmly returned, "to help you understand the gravity of your offences. That trick with your wand, alone, is enough to get you expelled. When Mr Weasley committed an expellable offence I gave him ten thousand lines. The same will do for you."

Draco threw his arms up into the air. "Severus, you know perfectly well that half of Slytherin dabbles in dark magic every chance they get! And you never say a word about it. In fact your silence implies approval!"

Leaning forward, Snape spoke into the young man's face. "And you know perfectly well that the roles I have played both before and after Voldemort's return in the flesh have severely limited my latitude. What you do not know is how I have dealt with Slytherin since Samhain, so kindly keep your assumptions to yourself!"

Draco pressed his lips together for a moment, then ventured, "But--"

A look from Snape had him falling silent.

"Better," the Potions Master approved. "I will not debate your consequence. You will write your lines without further complaint. Write the first one now so that you do not forget the wording." He Accio'd some parchment from the stack, then performed a rather intricate spell over them before handing them to Draco. "Fetch an ink pot and quill, now." He waved toward the kitchen table where he had spent so many hours at Christmas penning letters.

Draco took his time, walking to get them instead of using magic, the resentful tilt of his head reminding Harry strangely of Ron.

Snape raised his eyebrows, but merely waited until the boy had sat down on the couch and assembled his writing materials on the low table in front of it. "Ready?"

Draco muttered something inaudible; Snape ignored it.

"You are to write, I am at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to learn to defend myself from the Dark Arts, not to practice them. Furthermore, as the Sorting Hat never once so much as contemplated placing me anywhere but Slytherin, I will cease at once my recent lamentable tendency to believe I am a Gryffindor."

"Oh, that's nice." Draco looked up, glaring. "I'm not going to write that."

"Yes, you are. And what's more, you're going to abide by it. Rushing pell-mell from my quarters with no thought to danger was the sort of idiotic behaviour I would expect from someone with more bravery than cunning. I expect sensible conduct from you."

Draco set his teeth, but evidently thought better of arguing. Bending over the parchment, he began to scratch out the sentences Snape had dictated.

"Gryffindor doesn't just mean stupid and reckless, you know," Harry quietly pointed out to his father. "I mean, it doesn't mean stupid and reckless. That's like saying Potions are foul, or Slytherins are criminals--"

"It's a generalization many in your House have contributed to, including yourself," Snape retorted.

"Oh, I was just supposed to let the Basilisk roam the halls?"

"You were supposed to tell a teacher what you knew."

"Yeah, well the year before we did tell McGonagall... um, I mean Professor McGonagall, about the Philosopher's Stone being in danger, and that worked out well, didn't it?"

"I regret that your Head of House let you down," Snape replied, staring at Harry in a way that would be hard to miss. Now you have me... that was what Harry read in the dark tunnels that were Snape's eyes. Harry gave a nod to say that he understood.

Snape nodded too, and then proving that he hadn't forgotten Draco, suddenly leaned over and cautioned, "Mind you don't misspell Gryffindor or you might find yourself doing the entire set over."

"Very funny," Draco snarled, but Harry noticed he did give the word a good look. The Slytherin boy's pale face flushed as with a growl of irritation, he found a way to squeeze in a second "f" beside the first one. Then sighing deeply, Draco neatly numbered a "2" on the sheet of parchment and began yet another line.

"No," Snape gently told him, leaning down to take the quill from his hand. "You may resume tomorrow, after you have spent the day pursuing your subjects."

"Wonderful," Draco sighed.

"And Draco..." Snape laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Your impetuousness has put us all in a rather untenable position. But... I remember being sixteen and making unwise choices. My regard for you has not changed. Do you understand?"

Draco looked down at his shoes as he nodded.

"It is time I returned to assist with matters at Hogwarts, I think," Snape pronounced, stepping away. "Draco, please do use care with the Calming Draught. I understand that you may need it, but no more than one dose every ten hours. Harry, I will return for you in the morning and we will make a treatment decision about that eye. It's just as well that you are here; I've no desire for the Aurors to see you in your current state, and they may well decide to pay Draco's quarters a visit."

"If they ask for me, what are you going to say?"

Snape looked back from the door. "You recall that in class you are to look a bit inept managing your new magic?"

"Yeah, to throw Voldemort off the scent..."

"In that same spirit, I plan to tell the Aurors that since Samhain you have been most fragile emotionally and were having so much difficulty dealing with the stress of a death right there at Hogwarts that I removed you to help avert a nervous breakdown--"

"You're going to tell them I've become a nutter?" Harry shouted, appalled.

"Not in those words, no. It's strategy, Harry. And though the imputation may be unfair to you--"

"Unfair!" Harry choked back a bitter laugh. "I want to be an Auror, in case you've forgotten. You get the Aurors Corps thinking I'm mental and they'll never let me in!"

"They also won't let you in if you're dead," Snape bluntly announced. "If my ruse keeps you alive by lulling Voldemort into thinking you will be easy prey, I am not disposed to alter course, whatever you may think of the misdirection."

Seeing the look on Snape's face, Harry felt his outrage subsiding. "Oh, all right," he groused, though he didn't like it any too well.

Snape glanced at both his sons. "You both need rest. Do not stay up too late. As I told Draco already, Harry, shouting that you need me will trip a ward alerting me to a problem here in the cottage. Stay inside at all times--"

"And be sure to use a cleaning spell on your teeth before bed," Draco interrupted. "Do you also want to tell us to use the toilet, Severus? For pity's sake!"

The Potions Master gave them a longish glance, clearly reluctant to leave at all. "Be good," he added to all he'd said. Letting that be his final word, Snape he walked outside, shutting the cottage door with a definite click. Harry watched through the window but it was too black outside to see the Potions Master once he stepped away from the house.

Draco waited until they heard the tiny noise of Apparation, then asked, his voice intense, "I have to know about your dreams, Harry--"

"I think we'd better heed what Severus said earlier," Harry interrupted. "No details, all right? He'll assign me ten thousand lines, I bet."

The Slytherin boy scowled. "Funny how you objected to that left, right, and centre when it was Weasley who had to write them."

"I stood up for you too," Harry assured him. "But it didn't do any good. Just like with Ron."

Draco searched his features, then shrugged. "Well, all right. Anyway, I wasn't going to ask about your Lucius dream, Harry. I'd just like to know one thing... have you had any about dreams this, about what I can expect? I know... well, you thought I was going to be killed, I know..." He looked away. "But now that you know that was all wrong, can you think of anything you dreamed that would tell you if I'm going to stand trial?"

"Sorry, I've no idea what you might have to face," Harry admitted. "But Draco, whatever it is, Severus and I will stand by you. Even if we all have to leave Hogwarts to keep you safe."

"Yeah," Draco said, his voice thick in his throat. "Yeah. Um, do you happen to know if Severus has any money? Any real money, that is? Because... my vault, the terms of the trust... I'm pretty sure that my entire inheritance will revert to Lucius if I'm expelled or even if I leave school on my own." He looked away, his gaze seeking out the blackness outside the window. "So... Severus quitting his job isn't such a good idea, see? I mean, unless he can support us without it."

"He has some money," Harry said, and at Draco's quick glance. "Not that he's ever discussed it with me, but there was a section on finances in the adoption application. Don't worry, Draco. He can take care of us."

"Good," Draco sighed. "Well, not good, actually, but better than having to..."

"What, depend on my vault?" Harry shrugged. "Snape has the key. If he needs to use it to help the family I have no problem with that."

"Well I have a problem with it," Draco snapped.

"Come on, all this worry is just going to make you sick. Let's get to bed... Have you sorted out the bedroom?"

"No," Draco sighed, glancing at his watch. "Ha, time for cocoa again. Well, a hot drink'll help me sleep, so I'm going to see if that stupid box will let me have some. You want any?"

"Yeah, and get us some biscuits too," Harry said, trying to make light of matters. What else was there to do?

"You transfigure the bed," Draco added.

"I don't know the spell in Parseltongue," Harry yawned, slipping off his cloak.

"All right, I'll go do it... you light a fire for us. It's getting a little cold in here."

They drank their cocoa in silence, the only noise the steady munching of shortbread. The quiet was actually rather soothing, Harry thought, after the kind of day both he and Draco had had.

Evidently, though, it wasn't soothing for the Slytherin boy. He was fidgeting restlessly, his silver gaze repeatedly darting between Harry and the table. The longer they sat there, the more nervous Draco seemed to get.

Nervous, and upset.

"I have to tell you something," Draco suddenly blurted.

Harry licked a bit of whipped cream from the corner of his mouth. "Hmm?"

The Slytherin boy swallowed and backed his chair away. "Remember how you said you loved me?"

Harry felt himself flushing red, but he wasn't about to go back on it, so he brazened it out. "Yeah, what of it?" Hmm, that had come out sounding a tad belligerent, he realised after the fact.

Draco didn't appear to notice. Wrapping his hands around his mug, now empty, he held to it as though it were some sort of lifeline. "Well, I wanted to make sure I told you that I love you too," he whispered, tension in every line of his face. "I love you with everything that's in me. With all my heart."

That declaration was about the most awful thing Harry had ever heard. It was just... all wrong, from the words --nothing like the Slytherin way Draco would put such a sentiment--, to the evasive glint in the other boy's eyes, to the way Draco held himself afterwards... to the tone, which announced far clearer than words that the declaration was anything but sincere. It had been said deliberately, calculated for effect...

It wasn't a declaration at all, in fact. It wasn't even true. It was strategy.

Harry's heart almost broke apart inside him, because he did love Draco, and this... this was proof, wasn't it, that the other boy was insecure about everything. Not just about his future, or staying out of Azkaban. He was insecure about Harry, too.

Not that Draco Malfoy would ever admit to that. No, he'd just lie and try to play the situation to his advantage, because he was Slytherin, after all. Harry supposed he could play along and pretend to believe the lie. It would be the easiest thing to do... but he didn't think that was what Draco truly needed.

"You don't love me," Harry quietly said, pushing his mug to the side. Draco's gaze skittered away.

"I... I think you believe you have to say it back," Harry went on, hurting for the other boy. "You said once that I might be the only person who could keep you out of Azkaban... and now, I guess you think that if you don't say it back, I'll sooner or later get upset about that, and then I might not help you when you need it. Is that what you're thinking?"

"No, no, I really do," Draco insisted, though his voice sounded weak and ill to Harry's ears. "I do love you--"

"If you did, you wouldn't be so miserable at the thought of sharing my money," Harry countered. "Listen to me, Draco. You don't have to pretend you feel something you don't. It's not the price of... my support, or anything."

Draco was staring at him as though he'd grown an extra head. "Why did you say that to me if it wasn't so I'd say it back?"

"I didn't mean to say it," Harry admitted.

"But... why did you?" Draco pressed, still obviously confused.

"Because it's true, you imbecile!" Harry shouted, frustrated. "Hasn't anybody ever told you they loved you before?"

"Not unless they wanted something," Draco admitted, staring across the table at Harry, his gaze clear and honest that time.

Harry got it, then. Love wasn't love to Draco; it was a means to an end. It was manipulation. Family love, at least. Romantic love was probably different, but Draco wasn't talking about that.

At that moment, what Draco had said sank in, really sank in. Harry knew he should just shut up, but he couldn't, because what he'd realised was so very horrible.

"Even Severus?" he asked, confused. "He... Draco, after all this time, how can you think he wants something from you when he says he loves you?"

Draco lifted his mug and took a sip, his every motion casual, just as though it didn't matter to him in the least, what he was going to say. But it did matter. Harry knew it did.

"He doesn't say he loves me," Draco corrected. Standing up in one smooth motion, the Slytherin boy added, "He's never said it. Can you see to clearing away the mess, here? I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other

Chapter Seventy-Three: Buttons and Rings