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!

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

A Year Like None Other

by Aspen in the Sunlight

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

Chapter Seventy-Six: Ceremonies

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

Snape did come home that night. He looked pleased to see Harry there, though it was clear he had no time to talk and had mostly stopped by to check whether Draco had fallen prey to the Slytherin plague.

"Still fine, I see," the Potions Master pronounced, looking down at the sleeping boy. Beckoning Harry with a finger, he left the bedroom, closing the door so that Draco might continue to sleep undisturbed.

"I'm not so sure fine is the word, but I don't think he has whatever the other Slytherins are coming down with. What is it, Professor?"

"Harry, we are home."

It took Harry a couple of seconds to even follow that comment. "Oh. Sorry, it's hard to shift gears."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "What are gears?"

"Never mind. Speaking of class conduct, though, Dad, I don't need you prompting me to spread the story about my magic being weak."

Turning away to walk into his Potions lab, Snape merely said, "I shall remember that in future."

Harry thought it would be a little ungracious to say good, so he just nodded, though Snape no doubt didn't see. By then, the man was rummaging through his stores, gathering an eclectic assortment of ingredients into his hands.

"This Slytherin plague," Harry finally prompted. "Draco thinks that... ah, Pansy cursed them on her way down, and that's why he's the only full Slytherin to show no signs of illness."

"Unlikely."

"Yeah, I thought so too..." Harry's lips turned down. "I think he's just trying to convince himself that she really did love him. But then, what is wrong with all your students?"

"They defy diagnosis at present," the Potions Master murmured with a distracted air as he crouched down to rummage in a lower cabinet. "I am working on it. I regret that the present emergency will keep me from researching the matter of your eye and the Elixir."

"Oh, that's all right... I, um, pretty much resigned from the Quidditch team on account of it, but I told people it's to do with my magic. Um, I had to tell Ginny I was worried you'd be a bit irritated if I played only for Gryffindor. She said you'd understand, which made me wonder. Would you have?"

"Yes, though I have little time at present to discuss the matter." Standing, Snape gave Harry his full attention. "I really must return to the hospital wing, Harry. If there was nothing urgent you needed?"

"I..." Harry shook his head. "I was going to ask you to walk me back, but I guess I'll just sleep over. Ron and Hermione know to come get me in the morning. All right?"

Snape curled a lip. "You need not ask permission to sleep here."

"Right, of course. Um, good luck with the Slytherins... oh, just so you know, Theodore Nott shook my hand. Everybody else was standoffish."

"A pity Mr Nott is one of the worst afflicted, in that case." Snape's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing further of Theodore Nott's surprising behaviour. "I will see you when I can, Harry."

One flash of green fire later, and Harry was left alone in the living room.

He went in to sleep, really glad that his father had insisted he leave some things behind, since now it meant he had some pyjamas in his room. His room. There was something comforting about that, Harry thought, as he crawled between the sheets and closed his eyes.

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

Harry woke up to a shivery feeling coursing up and down his spine. Opening his eyes, he saw that Draco was sitting up in bed, watching him.

"Bad dreams?" the other boy asked in a factual tone.

"No...."

"Sounded like it."

Harry thought back. "I can't really remember... well, it was some sort of ceremony, I think. Minister Fudge was holding something and incanting in Latin. And then... oh, it was a wand, right. And then he snapped it into little pieces..."

Draco scowled. "That would be my wand when they expel me, I take it."

Harry went cold at the thought. "I don't really think I was having a seer dream."

"I know you weren't." The Slytherin boy shrugged, though Harry thought it looked insecure rather than uncaring. "You were dreaming your fears, that's all. You've heard that wands get broken whenever a student is kicked out of school. But remember how Dumbledore gave me that part of the charter, how he said expulsion procedures had been revised in his lifetime? It turns out that they changed what happens to your wand. These days, it gets confiscated. They don't break it, just in case the expulsion is a miscarriage of justice."

"Hagrid." Harry nodded. "That makes sense."

Draco swung his legs off the edge of the bed and leaned forward, his gaze assessing. "How's your eye?"

"Oh, fine."

"Now isn't that nice. Lying to your one and only brother now, Harry? Do you think I'm stupid or something? I heard you and Severus, going on about you being half-blind. So let's have it. Did I blind you?"

"Well... no. I mean, things aren't great, but really, it's Lucius' fault--"

"Harry, is that sodding eye of yours back to normal or not?"

Harry felt a little chagrined, then, that he hadn't been honest from the start. "No. Things are blurry and it was giving me a headache so Madam Pomfrey charmed my glasses to block off images on that side."

"Marvellous." Getting up then, his movements resentful, Draco plucked his clothes off the floor and pulled them on without so much as applying a freshening charm. That told Harry something about the other boy's state of mind. Draco never wore the same clothes twice in a row, and he hardly ever started the day without a shower.

Harry gave him a sympathetic smile. "My eye will get better. Severus is working on it. Well, he will when he gets a chance."

"Pansy's curse, yeah." Draco glanced at his socks as though they'd offended him, then sighed and pulled them on regardless.

Just then, the magic doorbell began to chime. Draco scowled. "A bit early, isn't it? Not even time for breakfast, not by my watch. But don't mind me. Go off and have breakfast with your friends."

"My other friends," Harry stressed.

"So now I'm about to be expelled I'm just a friend, is that how it's going to be?" Draco yanked his shoes on and stood up.

Harry resisted an impulse to raise his own voice. "Do you want me to tell everyone that you're my brother, Draco? I will, you know."

Draco made a sour face. "Not too cunning, Harry. With Severus you had that paper to show them. With me... they'll think you're completely off your head, claiming a thing like that."

Harry chewed his lip. "That's basically what I thought. Um, can you go let Ron and Hermione in while I change? We don't want them assuming nobody can hear them again."

"Oh yes, I'll be just delighted to entertain your friends," Draco drawled.

Harry didn't like the defensiveness he heard in his brother's voice. "Listen, I did tell them about the Veritaserum and how it proves you didn't kill anybody."

"Didn't kill anybody yet. That Weasley might be in for it someday if he doesn't shut his flapping gums."

Since Harry thought Draco was probably angling for a reaction with a comment like that, he only replied, "Ron, remember. Call him Ron, and call her Hermione. You're backsliding."

"Trust you to keep me on the straight and narrow. But just you remember, I'm not a Gryffindor no matter what asinine line Severus wants me to copy over and over!"

Before Harry could reply, Draco was out the door.

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

There weren't any Slytherins at breakfast, not a single one. And none in Defence against the Dark Arts, either. That was just as well, considering how that class went. Professor Aran used to like him, but as Harry soon found out, that had definitely changed.

"Mr Potter," the teacher said in a cold tone as Harry came through the door. "You've missed a lot this year."

"Sorry, sir. Couldn't help it," Harry said, only to be brought up short by the reply he received.

"That flippant attitude had better vanish straight away, Potter."

"Yes, sir."

Puzzled, Harry slid into the seat he used to have in this class, one next to Ron.

"We'll keep working today on blocking unfriendly spells," the teacher announced. "Re-read the addendum I gave out on Friday for some cautions, and then we'll begin."

Blocking unfriendly spells wasn't exactly a sixth year topic; it wasn't even in their regular text, as they'd covered all that in years past, but that was Aran for you. Harry had always thought him sort of empty-headed. At least he'd been a change from Umbridge, but apparently the class hadn't got any more useful while Harry'd been away. Of course, he'd known that already from keeping up with the readings and assignments. Useless drivel, most of it. He'd learned more Defence from Snape in one afternoon in Devon than from a whole year of doing Aran's assignments. This addendum, though, was something Harry hadn't ever seen. He raised his hand.

"Mr Potter?"

"I need the addendum, sir."

"You haven't kept up." It wasn't a question. "I don't think I can take you back in that case."

Well, that was about the most unfair thing Harry had heard since... well, actually since Snape used to pick on him all the time in class. "I have kept up, Professor Aran," Harry said, pushing his anger to the side. "I just never received this latest addendum."

"Well, I certainly sent it," said Aran, huffing. "Pack up your things, Potter."

"What?"

Ron shook his head fractionally, and spoke up. "Professor, students forget lots of times to do the readings. You never made anyone leave class over it before."

"I didn't forget. I never got it--"

"Speak when you are spoken to, Potter," snapped Aran. "That'll be fifteen points from Gryffindor. And another fifteen if you aren't out that door in thirty seconds."

"Fine," Harry spat, so angry he could feel his blood boiling. Realising he was in danger of really saying something he might regret, he hurriedly Occluded. It didn't help much. He still ended up saying, "I'll just go tell my father I'm not allowed in Defence. I'm sure he'll want to talk to you about that."

Aran's face paled. "Sit," he changed his mind. "But behave yourself."

"Yeah, Harry, be good," Seamus whispered from behind him.

"Seamus, shut up," said Neville in an equally quiet tone. Quiet, but somehow very intense. "Harry doesn't understand, so just knock it off!"

"What don't I understand?"

Stomping over, Aran slapped a sheaf of parchment onto Harry's desk. "That's another fifteen points from Gryffindor after all, Potter. When I say to speak only when spoken to, I mean it!"

Harry decided he'd better not point out that he had been spoken to. "Yes, sir." He made a show of getting started reading, ignoring the way Aran wasted no time backing away from him.

Defence class only went downhill from there. After about twenty minutes of reading -- first and second year material, no less -- Aran instructed the students to pair up and practice their blocking techniques. Harry got no further than the first syllable of his incantation before Aran called a halt.

"What was that, Potter?"

Harry was still looking at his ring when he tried to answer.

"English, Potter!"

He looked his teacher in the face. "Sorry, sir."

"Sorry for speaking that foul language in the company of decent wizards?"

"Sorry for not switching to English to talk to you," Harry said, so stunned that he didn't really know how else to reply. Foul language? "Um, didn't my father, I mean Professor Snape, didn't he explain about the Parseltongue? The other teachers seemed to know--"

"You will not, I repeat, will not use that word in here, Potter, is that clear? It's nasty. It is filthy, and I will not have it! Fifty points from Gryffindor for sheer... evil!"

It wasn't often that Harry's mouth fell open from astonishment.

"You think Parseltongue is evil, do you?"

Harry whirled to see who had spoken. He saw Dean, standing up straight with narrowed eyes, his fingers clenched on his wand.

"Well, you're wrong," Dean went on, eyes blazing. "Harry's been speaking it in class for two whole days and nobody's come to any harm!"

"Yeah," Seamus said, his lower jaw jutting out. "It took us by surprise but now that we're used to it, it's no big deal. Harry's not evil and you're not going to say he is!"

Harry had to admit, that took a lot of sting out of the be good nonsense that had been going on.

Parvati was nodding emphatic agreement. "Don't you read the papers, sir? Harry's had an awful year. We're glad to have him back, Parseltongue and all!"

Awful year... The phrase almost made him smile despite the seriousness of the situation. Because it hadn't been, had it? He'd ended up with not just a father but a brother as well, two things he'd always wanted. Those two things alone far outweighed any suffering he'd endured.

"You will not say that word!" thundered Aran.

"Parseltongue, Parseltongue, Parseltongue!" shouted Seamus.

"Yeah, PARSELTONGUE!" echoed Neville.

"Quiet, all of you!"

As the shouting died away, Aran wiped a hand across his forehead. It came away dripping with sweat. "A hundred more points from Gryffindor," he muttered, glaring at his students. At everyone but Harry, actually. He actually seemed a bit reluctant to look directly at Harry.

"I'm not dangerous, sir," the boy sighed, beginning to understand. It wasn't just ignorance driving this. It was fear as well. "Really, I'm not."

Aran weakly shuddered. "You will do the incantations properly, Mr Potter. That means English or Latin, depending on your curse or block. I'd have the same attitude towards... Swahili in my classroom. It's not proper magic."

Sure you'd have the same attitude, Harry thought. Well, at least the Gryffindors had rallied around him. He knew full well that a lot of them didn't much like the Parseltongue, but they'd stood up for him all the same. That almost made Aran's attitude worth it. "All right, sir."

Ron gave him a reproachful look. Harry shrugged. It wasn't lost on him that neither Ron nor Hermione had leapt to his defence. But that made sense; they knew all his secrets and had to be careful what they said and how they phrased it. Just like Harry had to be sure to give the right impression to all concerned.

While Aran retreated to the back of the classroom, Ron came closer and made as though he were adjusting Harry's grip on his wand. "Tell your father," he said in a low voice. "He won't stand for this."

Harry shrugged and spoke in a voice that couldn't possibly carry. "Just as well, really. Now everybody can see how bad my normal magic is."

"What they're going to see is how dependent you are."

"They'd figure that out anyway... hey, you called Snape my father!"

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Did not."

"Did so... I think you've only said it before when you were being sarcastic or something."

Ron flushed and began stepping away. "Well, anyway, you make sure you tell him."

Harry grabbed the other boy's sleeve. "I can't go running to him every time I have a problem with another teacher, Ron. And he wouldn't want me to. I'm not five years old."

"He also wouldn't want you losing eighty points your first week back, half of them from Slytherin," Ron pointed out. "He'll be coming to ask you about it."

"Shite. I bet he will." When he has time, Harry mentally added.

"Problem there, Potter, Weasley?" called Aran from his position well away from Harry.

"No problem, sir," Harry said. From then until the end of class, he cast in English or Latin; Ron's every curse hit him. But Ron wasn't putting much effort into his spells so it wasn't too bad. When Aran dismissed them, Harry waved for his friends to meet him at the door , then quietly approached the teacher's desk. "Um, sir, can I have a word?"

Aran looked up, his face more wrinkled than usual, like two solid hours of fear had really taken a toll. "I suppose this is where you threaten again to have Professor Snape come see me?"

"No, sir." Harry took a breath. "I'd like to avoid that, actually."

Aran slumped in his chair. "That's fine, then. But still... I can't have... that... in my class, Potter."

"I understand but... look, if you take all those points Professor Snape will come down to see you. Because I lose points from Slytherin too, these days. I wondered if you could give me the eighty points back? Otherwise he's going to ask me what happened."

"Oh, very well. Eighty points back to Gryffindor, however the counters want to work it." Aran sighed, looking about as exhausted as the Slytherins had been, though Harry didn't really think he was coming down with what they had. "Is that all?"

"No, 'cause if you can't have... that, in class then how am I supposed to pass practical tests?" Harry grimaced. "Professor, I don't want to fright... I mean... um, upset you, but I have a real problem. I think you must realise that after you saw me get knocked over about twenty times by Ron's curses. I'm just glad he knew all the counters."

Aran shuddered. "I don't want to be responsible for the the other students being exposed to this... unnaturalness, Mr Potter. You can practice on your own however you like, but not in class. As for tests... well, do you have any suggestions?"

"Maybe another teacher could grade me?"

The professor's voice went dry. "You're suggesting your father."

"No... why don't you pick someone? Would that be fair?" After his teacher nodded, Harry turned to go, then thought better of it. "Professor Aran... didn't Professor Snape tell you that my magic had... uh, changed? I mean, did you mention to him that you disapproved...?"

"There wasn't time," Aran brushed him off. Harry heard what he hadn't said: I'm not challenging someone like Severus Snape face-to-face. Which meant that if need be, Harry could drag his father into the fray. He didn't want to do that, though. He could solve this on his own.

Nodding a polite acknowledgement of the lie, Harry left. Then, of course he had to argue with Ron and Hermione, who wanted him to report Aran's behaviour straight to Snape, or at the very least, McGonagall.

"I'll figure out what to do about Aran later," Harry cut them off. "It's almost time for the funeral. Severus will have to attend. Either that or he'll still be dealing with all the sick Slytherins, and I just don't think Draco should be alone."

"Oh, like Malfoy has feelings--"

Harry rounded on Ron, then decided it wasn't worth arguing over, not when he didn't have any chance of changing his friend's mind. He wished there was someone who would understand, or at least someone who would listen without judging. Hermione came close... she, at least, was willing to admit that Draco Malfoy wasn't quite the same stuck-up self-important pure-blood-is-everything prat he'd been before... but even she wouldn't want to hear that the Slytherin boy was his brother.

"I have feelings," Harry only said, looking steadily at them both. "I have to go have lunch with Draco. Walk me down, all right?"

Ron looked like he might argue with that as well, but a glare from Hermione made him fall silent.

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

The instant Harry closed the front door, Draco rushed out of the hallway that led to Snape's bedroom and office. He came to what Harry could only think of as a screeching halt, then sauntered forward as if he hadn't a care in the world. But the truth was written all over his face.

Harry sighed. Just as well Ron and Hermione hadn't come in. "You were trying to break Severus' wards so you could get my cloak, weren't you?"

Draco raised an eyebrow as though that were a shocking idea indeed, then turned the conversation on its head. "Where are your escorts, Harry? Severus isn't going to like hearing that you're already wandering about without them."

As threats went, that one wasn't too subtle. "They walked me down. But what are you thinking, trying to attack Severus' wards? You know what happened with my Lumos that time. Severus will know straight away if you break through! Don't you have enough lines to write, already?"

Draco lifted his chin. "Unlike some people, I wasn't planning on blasting a hole through the wall. I wasn't going to attack the wards at all, if you must know. I thought maybe I could somehow wizardspace my way in--"

"That'd never work--"

"Well, you wouldn't help me, so what was I supposed to do? Is it so much to ask, Harry? We loved each other! And all I wanted was to go to her funeral!"

Oh God, by the end there Draco sounded like he was close to breaking apart. Harry didn't know what to do. Everything he could think of just seemed wrong. The other boy was a fountain of pride, and besides, he had all those issues about love and family, so Harry was left feeling like there was nothing he could do.

"It'll be all right," he said, giving his brother a sympathetic smile.

Well, that was definitely the wrong thing to do. Draco went off like a volcano.

"How exactly is it going to be all right, you bloody irritating Gryffindor?" he screamed, stomping right up to Harry. "My girlfriend's dead! Dead, dead, dead, and she's not coming back! And as if that weren't enough, no matter what the Aurors say, half the school's going to think I killed her! I'm going to get expelled and Severus will have to quit his job, and we'll all have to live off you since my vault will revert to the Malfoy estate the instant I get kicked out of Hogwarts! And I know you're full of this simpering oh we're all family the money means nothing idealistic shite, but it means a lot to Slytherins, in case you haven't figured that out! Severus is going to end up hating me and I bet you'll resent me plenty, family or no, and--"

"That's enough," Harry said in a level voice as he grabbed his brother's arm and gave it a sharp shake. "You think you're the only one who's ever lost someone? Or who felt at fault? Just... just shut up, Draco. I know you feel awful, all right? I know what it's like to lose someone and not get a chance to ever say goodbye!" Harry blinked, swallowing hard. Because this wasn't about himself; it was about Draco. And there actually was something he could do for his brother, wasn't there? Harry gave a little nod as he let Draco go. "All right, then. I'll help you."

It was as if the other boy's anger had been all that was holding him upright. He slumped, almost stumbling, then straightened again. "Really?"

So much hope in those silver eyes...

"I won't help you break Severus' wards," Harry clarified. "But I think there's something else I can do for you."

Draco bared his teeth, that anger returning full force. "If you say you're going to order me a Butterbeer to make it all better, I just might hit you again. Fair warning."

Harry ignored the threat. "I'm sorry you can't go to Pansy's funeral, but you just can't. There's no way. But... what if you could see it from here? Would that...." He didn't want to sound like Hermione and use a word like closure. "Um, would that let you... Draco, would that help?"

"What in Merlin's name are you going on about?"

"Your enchanted picture frame... Look, it may not work. But I made it show people once. So... maybe you can see the funeral from here. I can try, anyway."

Draco's eyes glittered. "Oh, the perfect little Gryffindor broke the wards on the frame."

"Yeah, to see if you were alive, you prat. Wanded magic. And Severus knows, but um... probably best if you don't tell him I did it again."

Harry was almost expecting another biting reply that; something along the lines of Now I'll have something to hold over you... but Draco was already back to thinking about what obviously mattered most. "Well? Hurry up; it's almost time."

Harry had a bad feeling about going against Snape's wishes, but the feeling of wanting to alleviate Draco's suffering was stronger still. Leading the way into the bedroom, he extended his wand toward the frame as he'd done before, but he thought better than to demand to see Pansy. He didn't want them to end up with a view of the inside of the casket, after all. Besides, there was no telling if the spell would act the same on a dead person as it did on a live one.

"Show me Mrs Parkinson," he said, staring at his ring.

The enchanted picture frame, though, didn't respond.

"That sounded a bit... diffident," Draco pointed out.

Harry was surprised Draco could tell as much, considering he must have spoken Parseltongue, but he supposed the other boy had heard him incant a good many successful spells by then. "I guess I don't really want to get Severus angry."

Draco's face lost all expression. "Do you want me to beg?"

"No, of course not!" Harry tried to reach down into himself and summon forth some real desire, for Draco's sake. Then he took a deep breath and incanted once again.

The wall melted away to become a neatly manicured expanse of lawn dotted with straight-backed wooden chairs painted white. A casket rested on a short dais located in the middle of the circle of chairs. A woman and a man stood holding each other as they sobbed.

Behind Harry, Draco gasped. "Sweet merciful Merlin..."

Harry stepped back, only to see his brother beginning to walk forward as though in some sort of trance. Grabbing him, Harry shook him sharply. "No, you can't go through! It doesn't work that way, you'll end up in the potions lab, your lower half in the cabinets on this wall!"

Draco froze, his breathing suddenly laboured, his eyes closing. Then he nodded. Just a single affirmative motion, but it was enough; Harry let him go.

After a moment, Draco seemed to be in enough control of himself to watch the funeral again, though his eyes were the dull hue of grief as he studied the scene. "Those are her parents," he said, not even sounding angry with them any longer. Just sad, so terribly sad.

Harry glanced at the couple standing at the side of the casket. The woman was making no sound, but that was probably just because the wall was a viewing plane only. The tears streaming down her face attested to her agony. As she began to shake, the man pulled her closer, his own features wracked with grief.

Other mourners sat on the chairs, but there were no students among them. Neither was Snape present, which Harry supposed must mean that the sick Slytherins needed every bit of his attention.

Dumbledore was standing across from the Parkinsons, his eyes sad and sombre. After a few moments, he gave a slight nod. This turned out to be some sort of signal, for the mourners rose en masse. One after another, in sequence, they began enchanting the casket, their wands casting glowing white spells. The wooden sides and top of the casket took on a burnished hue, and then slowly began to glow golden. Diamonds and emeralds appeared, glinting on the handles, and then across the top of the casket arose dozens of Latin inscriptions Harry couldn't quite make out. Flowers grew up from the ground to encompass the casket. Roses and lilies and birds of paradise, the lot of them interwoven with vines of ivy.

And then real birds appeared amidst the foliage, each one of them black, though the butterflies materialising and gently flapping their wings encompassed every colour in the rainbow.

"Pansy deserved to see this." Draco sighed, and abruptly sat down on his bed, though his gaze stayed fixed on the funeral scene. "I should be there, too, to show her one last time how much I--"

Harry thought better than to tell him again that everything would be all right. Instead, he just quietly fetched a handkerchief and dropped it atop Draco's legs.

The Slytherin boy took it up, twisting it between his hands. He didn't cry.

When Harry glanced back at the enchanted wall, he saw the casket floating up, rising a few inches above its pedestal. The mourners, wands still at the ready, appeared to be concentrating more than they should need for Wingardium Leviosa, and Harry soon saw why. All at once, the casket vanished completely, birds, butterflies, and flowers winking out of existence at the same time. All that remained was the plain marble pedestal upon which the casket had once rested.

Draco mashed the handkerchief into a fist. "So, that's it, then. All right. Harry... thank you. I... well, thank you, that's all."

Harry nodded. Some part of him knew he shouldn't ask, but the entire spectacle had been so strange that he couldn't help it. "Er... what happened at the end?"

The Slytherin boy glanced up as though the question itself were rather odd. Then a derisive look stole into his eyes. "I forget you're Muggle-raised, you know. Which is actually a compliment. They Apparated her into her grave, Harry. Oh, ugh. Don't tell me that Muggles actually dig...?"

Draco shuddered as though that image were positively gruesome.

Wanting to comfort him, Harry murmured, "She's at peace now, Draco."

"No such thing... she's on the Parkinson estate, I expect." He clasped his hand together. "I can never go visit her..." Draco scowled at the bereaved couple now walking slowly away from the empty pedestal. "Just get rid of it, Harry. Get the empty frame back."

Harry did as requested at once. "Um, so... you know, afternoon classes were all cancelled on account of... anyway, I thought I'd stay here a bit, have lunch with you, and dinner as well. Is there anything you need...?"

"Yes, for you to stop acting like I'll break," Draco spat, suddenly shooting to his feet, his arms crossed. "It's really offensive. Why don't you just ask the rest of your questions instead of standing there wondering if I can handle them!"

Harry didn't really have that much more to ask, but he thought maybe this was Draco's way of venting, so he went along, thinking back to the things that had confused him during the funeral. "All right... no speeches?"

"Oh, please. That was a pureblood funeral done in the ancient way. Why do you think those inscriptions showed up in Latin? The casket itself is inscribed with what people wished to say to Pansy, Potter. No need to be common and say it all out loud."

Harry thought that eulogies and such were really more for the living than the dead, but he decided he'd better not dwell on that. "So the casket didn't really turn gold, did it? I mean, that's alchemy. It'd take quite a bit more than a few spells."

"A glamour, same for the gemstones." Draco began to pace. "The rest of it was real enough, though. The birds and butterflies die when they're plunged underground, but too bad for them. Happens to all of us, doesn't it?"

Bitterness, there at the end.

"Well, anything else you're dying to know? Ha, dying. Death is just everywhere, I suppose."

"No," said Harry. Talking wasn't helping after all. "Are you keeping up with your assignments?"

Draco glared. "No point, as I'm shortly to be expelled."

So much for suggesting they study together. "Well, no offence, but how are you doing on your lines, then?"

"I'm bereaved, Potter. I'm suffering. How the hell do you think I'm doing on those ghastly lines?"

All right, so that had been a stupid question. "I don't know what to do to make you feel better!" Harry admitted, frustrated. Just for something to do, he adjusted the picture frame, empty now, to hang straight on the wall.

"You can't make me feel better. It's impossible." Draco sighed, all his fire seeming to go out. "I should be writing a sympathy card to her parents, but I suppose in the circumstances that's ill-advised. I think I'll just read, try to get my mind onto something else. You should probably go. Don't worry, I won't do anything Gryffindorish. No point, now. She's not just dead; she's dead and gone and out of reach, and that's that."

It sounded to Harry like Draco was going to brood. "Why don't we play a game of Wizard's Scrabble--"

"You really can't read between the lines, can you? I. Want. To. Be. Alone. All right?"

"All right." Unable to stop himself, Harry went and laid a hand on his brother's arm and gave it a light squeeze.

Draco didn't react, except for closing his eyes as he waited for Harry to go.

But Harry couldn't go, not without someone to walk him back. Well, he could... he could most likely take care of himself, and it wasn't like the Slytherins were in any shape to try attacking him, anyway.... but he really didn't want to get on Snape's bad side.

"I... uh, I have to wait until Ron and Hermione come get me," Harry said, wincing at how ridiculous that sounded. Feeling really bad to be intruding, even if this was his home, he offered, "Um, maybe I could floo Severus in the hospital wing and ask if he could send them a message--"

"He told me not to interrupt him unless I thought I was coming down with the plague."

"Oh." Harry thought for a moment, then fished Sals from his pocket. He hadn't been taking her to all his classes, but that morning she'd complained of being afraid Hedwig would eat her. Harry didn't really think Hedwig would, but as far as he could tell, his owl was a little resentful of his other pet. It had given him a little more sympathy for how Snape must have felt when he and Draco were squabbling so constantly.

"Um, I suppose I could ask Sals to try to go get them. Though I'm not sure she knows the way back to the common room, let alone the password. And somebody might step on her--"

"Oh, just give it up," Draco said on a longish sigh. "I suppose I'm stuck with you."

"Yeah, you are."

If Draco read between those lines, he didn't let on.

After a moment more, Harry decided the right thing to do was to wait out in the living room and let Draco have the bedroom to himself.

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

Hogwarts' normal schedule resumed on Thursday. By then, the ill Slytherins were beginning to drift back into classes. Nott was among the first to recover, but he'd been among the first to take sick, so Harry supposed that made sense.

The cause of the illness --or curse-- remained a complete mystery. It had come on its own, and gone the same way, and rumour had it that Snape was refusing to take credit for any cures.

Harry had Defence again on Thursday. Aran wouldn't meet his eyes, but Nott did no end of staring as Harry cast spells that didn't do a single, solitary thing. Nott didn't try to talk to him again, though, so Harry just shrugged, and ignored the other boy's intent looks.

On Thursday after dinner, Harry ignored Ron's disgruntled you could spend some time in the Tower with us, you know, and went down to see his family again. He knew he was going down there an awful lot, but between the funeral just past and the expulsion hearing coming up, Harry thought he needed to.

The only trouble was, neither Draco nor Snape was there. Harry wandered around in circles for a while, wondering where they could be. Had Snape taken Draco out to Devon so the Slytherin boy could do a little flying and forget his troubles? Or were the two of them up with Dumbledore, planning out how to handle the coming expulsion hearing?

Harry was surprised at how... left out he began to feel. It was wrong, he was sure of that much. There was nothing to be jealous of. But still, it felt like a little niggling ache was eating away at him, inside.

Maybe that was due to something else though, Harry thought as he paced, wandering in and out of rooms. It was getting old already, this having a secret brother. He'd never wanted to keep his adoption to himself, after all. And now, this not telling any of his friends about Draco... Harry felt disloyal, as though he was acting ashamed to claim Draco Malfoy for his brother.

His friends just weren't big-hearted enough to understand, not after all those years of jeers and taunts and worse from Malfoy...

Big-hearted...

A smile cracked Harry's face, then, because he did have a friend he could tell, after all. Someone didn't much like Draco, but who couldn't help but be big-hearted anyway. Literally.

Snatching a pinch of Floo powder, Harry tossed it into the flames and got ready to firechat. "Hagrid's hut!"

The half-giant beamed when he saw the boy's upper half emerge in his hearth. "'Arry!"

"Do you have a minute, Hagrid?" Since kneeling on the hard stones of Snape's floor wasn't in the least comfortable, Harry went on, "Think you can visit with me in Severus' rooms? He wouldn't want me to leave the castle alone, or I'd come through all the way."

Hagrid made a shooing motion in answer, causing Harry to back up and get well away from Snape's fireplace so Hagrid would have plenty of room to enter. He emerged a moment later, prudently crouched over, a smudge of ash across his nose.

"Have a seat," Harry invited, waving toward the couch. It creaked under the half-giant's weight, and in a moment of giddy memory, Harry was reminded of Dudley sitting there and Draco valiantly struggling not to laugh out loud at the other boy's girth. I should write Dudley again, Harry thought, nodding as he took a seat in a chair and leaned forward.

"I should have visited you sooner. It's just been such a busy week, getting back into classes, and then Slytherin, and the funeral, and the expulsion tomorrow."

The half-giant was big-hearted. In every way. He didn't remind Harry about Buckbeak and say it was time Draco Malfoy got what was coming to him; he only sighed and nodded. "Ach. Right shame it is. I can't say as I 'old with this tendency we got to go expellin' first and askin' questions later."

"Yeah, it's awful what they did to you." Harry sighed. "Draco's been cleared, you know, but I'm still kind of worried about tomorrow."

Hagrid began stroking his beard, his kind eyes trained on Harry's wan expression. "There's moreta this than worry, I'm thinkin'."

Harry didn't need any more prompting than that. "Well, Severus adopted both of us, Hagrid. I mean, it's not legal, but he considers Draco his son too. He told us both that a long time ago, and... well, he was serious so I had to take it seriously. And so... Draco's my brother now."

Adjusting his position slightly, Hagrid rested his palms on his massive thighs. "Ach, I knew that from way back."

Harry blinked in shock. "You already knew Draco was my brother?"

Hagrid guffawed slightly. "Yer father's a closed mouthed one, 'Arry. But 'e came to me afore Christmas to tell me about yer little snake gettin' sick off the Floo. We gots to talking about this and that, and affer I told 'im 'ow the little mite jus' might like a warm box of 'er own, 'e relaxes enoughta let slip 'ow that'd sure be nice, seein' as 'e already 'ad the perfect gift fer 'is other son. Now what was Ita think a that, I ask ya?"

"His other son," Harry mused. "That was before he'd even told us he felt that way. But that's all right. You... you didn't think it was odd for him to talk that way, Hagrid?"

"Only odd parts was 'im sayin' it, not 'is feelin' that way. If yer ask me, it makes a fair bit a sense. Yer father's always 'ad quite a care for that 'ouse a 'is. 'Sides, it takes a Slytherin to understand a Slytherin, I always say."

Harry hadn't ever heard Hagrid say that, but it raised a good point. "Um, in that case you must have thought it was pretty strange for him to adopt me."

Laughing, Hagrid began to shake a little bit like Harry always imagined Father Christmas did. "Aye, a bit, I s'pose," the half-giant admitted, a wide grin breaking across his features. "But then 'e told the 'ole Order, 'e did, about 'ow the 'at 'ad got it wrong all them years ago, 'ow yeh'd talked yer way out a Slytherin to begin with."

"He told the Order about that?" Harry crossed his arms, a little bit miffed. "Well. He's not as closed-mouthed as I thought, is he?"

Hagrid made an effort to reign in his laughter. "'Arry, 'e was defendin' yer rightta be told a fair bit more in future 'bout plans and schemes and such. Claimed yeh had good instincts, 'e did, and 'e was promisin' that with 'im to bring out yer Slytherin side, yeh'd end up with all the cunnin' yeh could needta be a full member come yer birthday."

"Oh." Harry felt his anger subside. "That's all right, I guess. So did he convince Dumbledore to let me in when I turn seventeen, then?"

Hagrid shrugged to say he didn't know. "I'm thinkin' that's atween yer father and Albus."

"Yeah, okay--"

Whatever else Harry might have said was cut off by the noise of the Floo flaring. Snape strode out, as regal as ever in his bearing, followed closely by Draco who looked all right until he caught sight of Hagrid. The Slytherin boy visibly flinched, actually stepping backwards into the flames for an instant. With a look of profound irritation, Snape grabbed hold of Draco's arm and yanked him forward again.

"Hi, Draco," Harry said, determined to be casual even if the other boy acted like a total git about having a half-giant occupying the better portion of the couch. He thought of adding, you remember Hagrid, but decided it wouldn't go over so well. "How are you holding up?"

A sneer settled onto the other boy's features. "Did I or did I not make it clear to you that I'm far from an invalid?"

Harry gave a sheepish smile as he remembered how irritating it had been to have Hermione treating him that way. "Sorry. Um, so where have the two of you been?"

Draco started to say something, his silver eyes suddenly... well, keen was the only word that came to mind. But before he could even finish a syllable, Snape was smoothly inserting, "We had a number of things to see to, Harry. I'm sure you can understand that. And even now, we aren't truly at leisure; Draco has to prepare a statement for tomorrow night's hearing."

Harry couldn't but notice that Draco was glaring at Snape. The Potions Master just shrugged, his dark eyes communicating something... an intent something, but though Harry saw it, he didn't quite understand. On the other hand, he did understand why making a statement to the Board... to Lucius, sitting in judgment, would be unnerving to say the least.

"Hmm, well, Draco didn't do anything wrong. Can't he just say that?" Harry raised an eyebrow as he looked at his father. "You'll have the Auror's report, won't you, to back him up?"

Draco made a slight face. "It's not a question of what to say, Harry. It's how to say it. I have to come across as forthright, upstanding, and magnanimous," the boy complained. "Or so the headmaster says."

"Actually, he said you had to be forthright, upstanding, and magnanimous," Snape corrected.

Harry understood that his father and brother had a lot on their minds, but neither one of them had so much as greeted Hagrid yet. That wasn't right. "You do remember Hagrid?" he ended up saying, after all.

Draco's perfect manners came out, then. If Harry hadn't figured out already that he used them like a shield, that would have made it clear. "Oh, yes," the Slytherin boy said, pasting a smile on his face. Any more of a smile and it would have been a smirk, but Draco kept his expression just within the margin of courtesy. "How lovely to see you again. And how is Care of Magical Creatures going this year? I do so miss the fresh air. I could always count on your class for a good, healthy dose of it."

Hagrid abruptly stood up, the couch clattering a bit as his calves brushed it. "Yeh always counted on my class for a laugh, and well yeh know it," he all but growled as he glared down.

Harry had to give his brother credit; as frightened as he was of Hagrid, he didn't quail. He did, however, abruptly step to the side. "Ah. Well, as much as I'd simply love to reminisce over old times, I do have that statement to prepare, so if you'll excuse me?" With that, Draco fled to the bedroom.

The half-giant wasn't through. "I'll be a three-eared kneazle if I'll sit 'ere and listen to 'im blatherin' on 'bout 'ow 'e misses my class, I will."

"Actually I think he said he missed the fresh air." Harry frowned. "I really wish my friends could all get on better."

As if thoughts of his other friends had summoned them, the magic doorbell began to chime. Harry checked the door parchment and saw that it was Ron alone, though. No Hermione. That was interesting.

"Hey, Hagrid," said Ron as he strolled in. He nodded politely to Snape, but spoke to Harry. "So I thought you might be ready to come back up. We want to have an Exploding Snap tournament but we're all waiting for you before we start."

"Actually, I thought I'd sleep over again--"

"Go to the Tower, Harry," Snape interrupted. "Hagrid and Mr Weasley can both walk you back."

"I..." Harry was all set to argue, but he suddenly realised two things. One, Snape had given him a direct order and wouldn't appreciate Harry ignoring that in front of company, and two, his father most likely needed time alone with Draco to work on this statement. As left out as Harry felt, he could see that his own presence would be a distraction at best. "All right, Dad," he merely murmured, and thought he caught a flash of surprise in the man's eyes. Perhaps even a hint of respect. That was nice.

"I'll see you tomorrow. I'll come down before the hearing starts," Harry added, then stepped briefly into the bedroom to tell Draco good night. The Slytherin boy was staring at the wall. He glanced at Harry as though he wanted to tell him something, but in the end, a brusque nod was his only attempt at communication. Sighing, Harry went out to the living room and then up to the Tower as his father had said. Hagrid stayed with him right up to the portrait of the Fat Lady. When Ron and Harry stepped inside, though, Harry admitted that he didn't much feel like playing games.

"It'll get your mind off things," Ron said, urging him toward where several other sixth-years were waiting. "Come on, it'll be fun."

"No, I think I'd better not--"

"Yeah, Harry has to be good," Seamus put in, snickering. "Snape's got such sour face, I bet he doesn't approve of games at all--"

Harry's good-will over Seamus sticking up for his Parseltongue evaporated, just like that. "He plays chess and Wizard's Scrabble, I'll have you know!" he shouted, stomping right up to the other boy. "And what's so awful about him telling me to be good? What's he supposed to do, tell me to be bad? Oh, so that's it, is it? You're thinking he used to be a Death Eater, aren't you? Well, he was spying for the side of the Light, something you'd know if your head wasn't shoved so far up your own arse! I'm damned lucky we had somebody on the inside, you twit, or did you want me roasted alive from the inside out? And another thing--"

"No, no other thing," Neville interrupted, grabbing Harry's arm in a fierce grip. "You can all start playing without us. Harry and I will be back down in a little while."

As Neville began to drag him toward the stairs, Harry caught sight of the other boys. For a minute there, he'd got up such a head of steam that he'd not taken note of their reactions. Now, he did. Everybody looked positively aghast. Ron's eyes were about as wide as Harry had ever seen them. But Seamus was the worst. He looked like he'd been hit in the stomach by a Bludger.

Harry knew a twinge of vicious satisfaction over that.

Once in their dormitory with the door firmly closed, Neville let go of Harry and sat down on his own bed. Harry shook his arm in a little show of irritation to have been manhandled like that, but he didn't really want to complain about it. Thinking back to how he'd... snapped down there, it was probably best that Neville had dragged him away before said more.

Leaning back on his palms, Neville didn't say anything for a while. Probably letting me calm down, Harry thought caustically, even though he recognised that as a good idea.

"Harry, don't you know why they're teasing you like that?" Neville finally asked, looking steadily at Harry.

The truth was, Harry hadn't thought much about why. The reasons were bloody obvious, after all. "They hate Snape," he spat, starting to pace. "Well, it's not like I can't understand that. I mean, I used to hate him plenty, and I do know he's still sort of got it in for Gryffindor--"

"Plenty of people here can't stand your father," Neville calmly interrupted, "but that's not why they're teasing you. It's more... it's sort of hard to explain. It's like... you're just normal now, Harry. That's all Seamus means."

"Normal!" Harry stopped in his tracks and glared at Neville.

"Yeah, normal. Seamus is treating you the way he treats everybody, and the others think it's all funny because well, Snape telling you to be good is sort of funny, Harry. But more than that... Look.... everybody gets teased about their family. How many times did Seamus bring up my Gran's taste in clothes after that lesson with the boggart?"

Harry's anger started to die. "Um, too many to count, I think. I mean, he didn't get off it for about a year."

"Right. And with Ron it's all those rabbit references, you know, cause his parents have so many children they must get up to a lot of... well, anyway, Seamus doesn't mean anything bad. It just means he likes Ron. And he likes Hermione too, or else he wouldn't always be joking that she'd better remember to brush her teeth, see? Everybody's family is quirky in one way or another. And if Seamus is overdoing it, well... it's only because you're just like us now. You finally have a family."

Sitting down on his bed, Harry thought about that. "But I had a family before," he said, chewing his lower lip. "Seamus never teased me about them."

"Well, he pretty much couldn't," Neville said, smiling in sympathy. "All anybody knew was that they were Muggles. Seamus is hardly going to think that's quirky. And besides, after a bit we began to realise that you never got letters, so we figured it wasn't a good situation for you at home. Nobody wants to hurt you, Harry. And that's just the thing, see? Seamus is only teasing you because he saw how you stood up for Snape the night you came back. It was sort of obvious that you.... er, love him. And that makes you normal, Harry." Neville suddenly laughed. "Not that it's normal to love Snape... see, even I'm not above a spot of teasing. But all our families are weird in their own ways, and we love them anyway, that's what I meant."

"So this is Seamus' way of saying he's okay with Snape being my father?"

Neville shook his head and answered in a dry voice. "I don't think Seamus actually knows why he's suddenly teasing you. He just thinks it's funny. But he never thought it was funny that you didn't get to go home for Christmas, you know. And he never once teased about that, did he? But you're happy having Snape for a dad, and that makes it all right to poke fun. Just... try to remember, however much a buffoon Seamus ends up being, his heart's in the right place."

Harry couldn't help but sigh. Now that Neville had explained, it all did make sense. He wondered why he hadn't seen the jokes for what they were. Friendly teasing, emphasis on friendly. "You're pretty good at figuring things out, Neville. You could give Hermione a run for her money, even."

The other boy blushed. "Nah. It's just that we're sort of alike, Harry. Growing up without your parents makes you think more about family than you might otherwise."

"Think I have to apologise for yelling that his head was up his arse?"

Neville laughed. "No, because right about now Ron is probably calling Seamus an idiot, and Seamus is deciding his head was up his arse. It'll be all right, Harry. Just... if he says something else about Snape, take it how it's meant, all right?"

"All right. I... you know I still don't really feel like playing games but now I think I'd better go show there's no hard feelings."

Neville stood up and opened the door, nodding, and together they walked down the stairs.

"Sorry, Harry," Seamus mumbled when Harry sat down with the others.

"Yeah, me too," Harry admitted, even though Neville had said he didn't need to apologise. He gave the other boy a smile, and Seamus smiled back, and that was that.

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

Friday rolled around, along with another Potions class. This time, Harry was considerably less nervous about having his father teach him. As it turned out, though, he had no reason to be nervous at all; Professor McGonagall was the one who walked through the door when it was time for class to start. She set an essay, asking them to explain in detail the brewing sequence of the Magma Potion, including an analysis of dangers inherent in each step.

She fobbed off every question posed about where Professor Snape might be.

Harry thought he knew, though. The expulsion hearing was set for that evening, after all. Snape must still be busy preparing for it. As Draco's Head of House, he'd be expected to have an opinion on the matter; Snape was no doubt going to attempt to sway the Board of Governors toward his point of view.

Harry finished off his essay as quickly as he could, then waited impatiently for Ron and Hermione to finish so they could walk him down to the dungeons. Of course Hermione took the full class period plus ten extra minutes. It was all Harry could do not to go grab her by the arm and drag her away from quill and parchment. Finally, though, she was ready and they headed off.

Harry stopped when they reached Snape's hidden door. "Better let me go in alone again, I think."

Hermione's answering nod was brisk. "When should we come back for you, then?"

Good question. "Um, I might actually spend the weekend here," Harry hedged.

Ron made an impatient noise in the back of his throat.

"Well, I came back last night when you asked!"

"When your father asked, you mean!"

"See, you do call him my father."

At that, Ron heaved a sigh. "Harry, you're missing the point. You've been down here an awful lot already this week, don't you think?"

"Well it hasn't exactly been an average week, has it?"

"But the whole weekend?"

"Listen, if Draco gets expelled then Severus will need the company--" Not to mention, we just might be packing for Argentina, Harry thought, even though Snape had said he wasn't going to brush up on his Spanish. "Anyway," Harry added, "I'm supposed to do extra potions lessons every Saturday. I agreed a while back to come down here for that."

Ron looked as though he might argue more, until Hermione said, "I'm sure that the professor can bring you back to the Tower whenever you finish with your visit, or lesson, as the case may be."

His friends waited until Harry had the door open, before giving him a little wave and heading back the way they had come.

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

Draco was sitting on the couch, a morose frown on his face. "Took you long enough."

Harry figured that the magic doorbell must have been ringing, and that Draco knew who was out there because of the door parchment. "Well, Ron and Hermione and I had some things to discuss."

"Oh, I see. It's not all right for me to talk to you alone, but it is all right for you to talk to them alone?"

Tugging off his robes, Harry settled into a chair. "I thought you wouldn't particularly want to see them just before the hearing. Where's Severus?"

The Slytherin boy shrugged to say he didn't know, but the gesture communicated a good deal more than that.

"I'm sure whatever he's doing is something to help you," Harry reassured his brother.

Draco's grey eyes blazed. "How naïve are you, Potter? There is no helping me. I'm a lost cause, always have been."

"Severus will pull a rabbit out of a hat somehow, I just know it."

"He'll what?"

Harry smiled slightly. "Muggle expression. It just means... well, he has plots inside plots. He wasn't even in class today, and you know how seldom that happens. It'll be..." He almost said all right, but remembering how badly that sentiment had gone over before, Harry cleared his throat and switched to, "Look, whatever happens, we're all three of us in it together. And we'll get through it, I swear."

"Noble sentiment," Draco sneered, then leaned his head back against the couch. "You know what, though? At this point I don't even care. I just want it to be over."

A whoosh of noise from the direction of the Floo announced Snape's arrival.

The Potions Master strode forward. "Harry. It might be best were you not here this evening."

Well, that certainly wasn't what Harry had been expecting to hear. "Huh?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Draco erupted. "He thinks I don't want you to see me in a state, and after they expel me I suppose I might truly be in one. But he's wrong. I'd rather you were here when we come back so I can say good-bye."

"Would you stop with all the negative predictions?"

"Draco," Snape said in a level tone. "You do not look as presentable as you should."

"Well it hardly matters, considering!"

"Harry is right; your pessimism is not going to help matters," Snape lectured, his voice going intense. "We may have received disappointing news today but all is not darkness and despair."

"What news?"

Draco started to snarl some sort of answer, but Snape cut him off. "The powers that be are being phenomenally dim-witted, but this comes as no great shock to me. When I have news worth sharing, Harry, you may rest assured that I will do so." Harry didn't really follow that, but Snape was looking at him in a way that said to leave the matter behind, even as he instructed, "Draco, stand up now so we can get the wrinkles out of those robes."

Wanting to do something, Harry offered, "Let me--"

"I've seen your pitiful attempts at clothing charms, Potter." Draco spelled himself then, still looking a bit as though he wasn't completely at ease with his new wand. Harry supposed that Dumbledore must still have the old one. Or Snape, maybe. Draco put a bit of polish on the snake in his crest, and shined his shoes, and spelled his robes once more though by then they were looking perfectly smooth. When he was finally finished, he held out the maple wand to Severus. "Better not let them see I've got another, or they'll want to confiscate both."

"Draco, they might exonerate you!" Harry said, exasperated.

"What sort of a fairyland do you live in, Potter?" As though realising he was waving his hands rather wildly, Draco suddenly shoved them deep into his pockets. "Just you watch. Lucius will sit back, smarmy as can be, acting soooo sorry that it's come to this, while all around, his nasty cronies will be lecturing the neutral element of the Board all about how very dangerous I am even despite the Aurors' conclusions about the murder. There's not one bloody chance they'll exonerate the likes of me, you shite-faced Gryffindor optimist!"

"You truly do need to improve your outlook before we go," Snape announced in a heavy tone. "Perhaps a calming draught."

"Oh sure, force-feed me another one. Why don't you just go fuck yourself, Severus?"

Harry drew in a sharp breath, wondering what Snape would have to say to that.

The Potions Master must have concluded that Draco was under enough stress that a rebuke would serve no purpose. His eyes glittering, he merely drew a single-dose vial out of his robes and extended it. When the Slytherin boy ignored the clear command, Snape did speak. One word.

But the way he said that word made Harry shudder.

"Now."

Draco gave the man a nasty look, but then he snatched the vial and quaffed the contents in one go. "Vile as usual."

"You're being vile," Harry couldn't help but say.

By then, though, the draught already taking effect. Draco began breathing deeply, his features settling into peaceful lines. He looked almost angelic, which would have been amusing in any other circumstance.

"You will wait here for us then, Harry?" Snape inquired. "As Draco has no objection to your seeing his rather erratic behaviour."

"You shouldn't have had an objection either," Harry pointed out. "We're family."

"Yes," Snape nodded his agreement, but the word sounded off, somehow. Not diffident, and not exactly regretful... but somehow reserved. Maybe, Harry thought, his father just had a lot on his mind.

"Draco, I do believe it is time." The Potions Master reached out to place a hand on his son's shoulder. "Now, listen. The hearing may not be pleasant, but you must have faith in yourself. Project purity, and above all, confidence. You did not kill the young lady, no matter what slanders may attach to your name."

"My name's hardly got room for more slanders," Draco said, his tones calm now even if his words still thrummed with anxiety. "My own cousin thought I'd done it. My cousin who knows I returned Harry's wand, who ought to be smart enough to know I want to get away from being associated in everyone's mind with my horrible... with Lucius."

"Confidence is quite distinct from self-pity, Draco." Snape shook his head as he squeezed Draco's shoulder. Lifting his hand, Snape performed a wandless charm. It looked to Harry as though an invisible comb was neatening Draco's hair. Draco didn't appear to notice the small gesture of caring. He just gave Harry one last sad glance, and then followed his father out into the hall.

Harry closed the door after them and leaned up against it, wishing he could go with them, wishing he could stand with Draco against adversity, even if it meant coming face to face with the man who had gouged his eyes out on Samhain.

The hearing was closed, though.

Nobody was allowed in except the Board, the headmaster, the student in question, and his Head of House. Well, nobody except whatever witnesses the Board or Draco wished to summon.

There was nothing for Harry to do now but wait.

Snippets of conversations began to replay inside his mind. Draco, frantic in his worry, so much so that he'd actually told Snape to go fuck himself. Snape, insisting on the calming draught. Probably for the best, all things considered. Draco, saying, just you watch, there's not one bloody chance they'll exonerate the likes of me...

Just you watch....

And that, Harry abruptly decided, was exactly what he was going to do. He wasn't going to stand around wondering; he was going to stand with Draco, after all. Even if Draco didn't know he was there.

Pushing off from the door, Harry headed towards his bedroom. Towards Draco's enchanted picture frame.

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

Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other

Chapter Seventy-Seven: The Expulsion Hearing