A Year Like None Other

aspeninthesunlight

Story Summary:
A letter from home? A letter from family? Well, Harry Potter knows he has neither, but all the same, it starts with a letter from Surrey. A letter that sends Harry down a path he'd never have walked on his own. It will be a year of big changes, a year of great pain, and a year of confronting worst fears. It will be a year of surprising discoveries, of finding true strength, of finding out that first impressions of a person's true colours do not always ring true. It will be a year of paradigm shifts. And from the most unexpected sources, Harry will have a chance to have that which he has never known: a home ... and a family. (A Snape adopts Harry fic.)
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Chapter 89 - What's Inside

Posted:
07/05/2006
Hits:
4,817
Author's Note:
Betaed by the Fabulous Mercredi.

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!

Author's Note: Thanks as always to Mercredi. This is another chapter that was a real team effort. And remember, there's no "me" in team. Well, there is if you rearrange the letters but that's hardly the point. There's no "I" in team, either. But there is a mat you can eat.

Continuity Notes: This story was started before HBP came out, so information learned there is not necessarily incorporated into Year. A number of kind people have written to me to make sure I know that that Draco is older than Harry. He is in canon, yes. But that was not known when this fic was begun. I assigned him a birthday in August. In the Year universe, Draco is very slightly younger than Harry. Year also diverges from canon in other ways. I'm pretty sure Remus isn't up to the same things in canon. Another example is that in the Year universe, Lucius was reinstated as a school governor during the summer prior to Harry's 3rd year.

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A Year Like None Other

by Aspen in the Sunlight

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Chapter Eighty-Nine: What's Inside

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Harry was halfway through his waffles the next morning when Ron turned to him. "So, is it true, then?"

"Is what true?"

"About Mal... Draco. Your brother. Is it true he's poor after all?"

Uh-oh. The look in Ron's eyes was nothing short of malicious. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Seamus said Dean said Parvati told him Lavender had overheard some Slytherins in the hall laughing about how Draco doesn't even have a pot to piss in. Is it true?"

Harry decided there was nothing for it but to put a good face on the matter. "Yeah, it's true."

"You told me he'd got himself another fat vault and he might be richer than ever!"

"He did, and he might have been!" Harry felt a bit stung by Ron's tone. "But it didn't work out. Legal stuff, inheritance law. It's complicated," Harry added, though it wasn't, really. But the details really weren't his to spread around. "Ron... you're above making fun of someone for being poor, aren't you? Even if it's Draco? Who... uh, probably deserves some payback?"

"Hell yes, he deserves some payback! The only thing that'd make this more perfect is if he'd turned out to be some Muggleborn switched at birth!"

Harry almost flinched. Did Ron somehow know about Draco's great-great uncle's shady business dealings? "What makes you say that?"

Ron's forehead wrinkled up. "What, about Muggleborns switched at birth? Everybody says that. Oh, not about him. I mean, everybody wonders if it happens, see? You hear stories but you never know."

"Urban legend," supplied Hermione as she bit her croissant and crisply turned a page. "Wizard legend in this case."

Harry nodded that he understood, and lowered his voice. "Oh, come on, Ron. Be a mate here. Draco's absolutely miserable after the whole Pansy thing. And now Slytherin's giving him an awfully hard time. You've heard what they're calling him."

"Yeah, Malshite." Ron rolled the word around his tongue like it was a sweet or something.

Harry clenched his fists under the table. "Don't make it even harder for him to stick by me, Ron. He's my brother."

Ron sighed. "Yeah, all right. I do get that, you know. I just don't much like it." His eyes began glinting. "Tell you what. I'll be magnanimous and gracious about the whole thing. You know, show him how it's done."

"Don't be too smarmy about it."

"I said gracious, didn't I?" Ron waggled his eyebrows a little, reminding Harry of Fred. Or maybe George. The comparison didn't exactly set his mind at ease, but at least Ron was willing to try. "Thanks," he said, climbing over the bench to get up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Draco rising to his feet, too. Like he'd been waiting for a cue.

Harry could just barely make out the voices over at the Slytherin table. What's the matter, Malshite? Where are you going, Malshite? Not going to finish your eggs, Malshite?

Harry clenched his fists. Even Snape's hearing probably couldn't pick up on the insults, since he was ten times farther away than Harry. But that made sense. The Slytherins probably knew how far their Head of House could hear. No way would they be calling Draco that if Snape was in range.

By the time Harry had reasoned all that out, Draco was at the doors of the Great Hall, waiting for him so they could walk to Defence together. Ron saw that and made what was almost a grunting noise, but didn't otherwise comment.

"Ron. Hermione." Draco greeted Harry's friends, his silver gaze calm. Another pose, Harry thought. Draco had to be angry over the way Zabini had got almost everyone in Slytherin to start calling him Malshite, both behind his back and to his face. About the only place he was probably safe from it would be in Potions class... but they didn't have that again until Friday.

"Draco," said Ron, in just as level a voice.

Harry couldn't help but be proud of his friend for rising to the challenge.

"Good morning, Draco," said Hermione brightly, her own tone clearly intended to cheer him up. "Have you managed to keep up with the Defence curriculum?"

"Not much to keep up with," drawled Draco, stepping in beside her and letting Ron and Harry walk ahead of them. "Aran being... well, representative of the level of Defence instruction we get at this school."

"Hey, Remus was a really good teacher!" Harry immediately glanced back to object.

"Hmph. For you, sure. Teacher's pet and all, special lessons--"

"I needed them considering somebody was going to pretend to be a Dementor!"

"Yeah!" added Ron, turning around and glaring. "That's right, you've spent years being horrid to Harry--"

"Water under the bridge," Harry quickly said before a fight could break out. He really did want all his friends to get along. "Come on, we'll be late."

"I suppose you can't partner me in this class either," Ron said, his tone somewhere between resigned and sour.

"Thought I would, actually."

Ron seemed to relax a little then, though he still kept up a stance of watchfulness, as if he expected the Slytherins to try anything to get to Harry. Personally, Harry thought it was a lot more likely that they'd attack Draco. But even that wasn't very likely... until after the Quidditch match, at least.

Aran started class that morning by having them all spend about an hour reading about caninae, which turned out to be magical guard dogs. To Harry's surprise, it was a new subject and even sort of interesting. He wondered if McGonagall had said something to Aran about not repeating the previous years' topics any longer.

"Now, caninae are strictly a defensive measure," said Aran when he began to lecture them. "They won't attack on command, and they certainly won't kill. They will, however, launch themselves at the source of jinxes, hexes, curses and the like, and incapacitate the one casting them."

All right, it had been too much to hope that Aran wouldn't repeat everything they'd just spent an hour reading about.

Aran walked up and down the rows of desks as he talked. When he stopped, he was right alongside Draco. "Mr Malfoy--"

"Snape," interrupted Draco with a glare.

"Malshite," said Zabini in a stage whisper.

"I'll tolerate no filthy language in my classroom," said Aran in rebuke. He was looking at Harry as he said it, though. Hmm, well Harry had sworn at him that one time. But Aran probably wasn't thinking of that. Most likely, he had Parseltongue in mind. It was all Harry could do not to throw something at the stupid man. Needing to vent his anger somehow, Harry beamed a big, bright smile.

He felt a little better when Aran scowled in response.

"So, Mr Snape," continued Aran, sneering the name. "Why is the conjuring of caninae not taught below the sixth year?"

That hadn't been in the reading at all, but Draco did his best to answer anyway. "Hmm. It requires a good deal of magical control, I would think."

"Precisely." Aran cast his gaze around the room. "There is, of course, one student present whose magical control is simply not up to the task, since he can't even incant normally. You shouldn't even be taking this class, Potter."

"Funny, my official interim mark was Exceeds Expectations," retorted Harry. He knew why Aran had graded him that way, of course. The man was afraid of Severus. He certainly didn't want to have a parent-teacher conference, and Snape would definitely demand one if Harry's marks fell. Aran probably wanted to give Harry a grade of Troll, but he didn't dare.

"There's more to learning than marks," retorted Aran, flushing. "If you can't conduct yourself decently, you shouldn't be at Hogwarts at all!"

Neither should you, Harry almost said. What stopped him was Draco going tense, his eyes glittering in a way Harry recognised as dangerous. Definitely, escalating the situation would be a bad idea.

"Yes, Professor," Harry only said.

Draco turned and just stared at Harry. He mouthed something. Looked like, Yes, Professor? Are you fucking having me on? After a moment he turned back to face Aran, who was still lecturing. The look on Draco's face still had Harry worried, though.

Working quickly, he scribbled out a note. So Aran's rude. Term's almost over, anyway. It doesn't matter. When Aran's back was turned, Harry wadded the parchment up and tossed it over to Draco.

A minute later, a little parchment bird came fluttering his way. It landed gracefully on Harry's desk and proceeded to unfold itself. What are you, a Muggle, throwing notes now? Aran's got you so cowed you're afraid to even whisper an avian charm in Parseltongue? You stood up to the Dark Lord himself! And now all you can say is "Yes, Professor?" Who are you and what have you done with my brother?

Harry held in a grin at that last sentence, and wrote on another scrap of parchment, And you call Hermione a show-off... I don't know any avian charms in Parseltongue, all right? And like I said, term's almost over. He tossed that one over, too.

Draco didn't reply again, but his eyes were narrowed as if he still had plenty to say.

"Pair up, now," Aran announced when he'd finally finished lecturing. Harry moved to work with Ron, only to hear the teacher order, "Oh, no, no, that won't do. Potter, you're with Zabini."

Uh-oh... It was bad enough being paired with Ron, who did his best to throw only the mildest spells Harry's way. Harry did his best to steer clear of the Slytherins in Defence. Well, except Nott, who'd been trying to get on Harry's good side. The other Slytherins, in contrast...

Zabini was grinning ear to ear.

Draco threw Goyle an I'll-explain-later look and said, "If you want Inter-house pairs, sir, I'll work with Harry--"

"I think you'd be better off not," said Aran with a dark look at Harry. "Well? Begin!"

Knowing it had to be faced, Harry walked to the far end of the classroom where Zabini was waiting. The other boy was twirling his wand. And practically leering in delight. Harry felt his stomach drop, even though he told himself that Zabini's antics were intended to scare him.

"Ready, Potter?" drawled Zabini. "Awww, what are you, worried? All you have to do to stop me is conjure some caninae. You remember the incantation, right? Canis horribilis... how hard is that?"

"Shut up," said Harry, holding his own wand out. This was going to be bad, he could tell. Even if he broke Aran's stupid rules and spoke Parseltongue, he hadn't had a chance to figure out the spell, yet.

"Jinxes only," cautioned Aran as he began to walk around. "Remember, your partner will need a few times to practice the caninae spell. Hexes and curses are too dangerous to begin with, so I'll expect to see none today..."

Apparently it really did take practice. At the far end of the room, Ron had managed to get a large, shaggy dog to appear, but it was laying down at his feet, apparently asleep. Off to Harry's side, a tiny translucent poodle was yipping as it scampered in circles around Luna. She sighed in delight, then scooped the puppy into her arms and gave it a hug.

"It's supposed to attack me," said Parvati impatiently. "Come on, Luna, get rid of it so we can try again."

Luna just crooned.

Zabini laughed scornfully. "Potter, you'll soon wish you could make so much as a poodle. So, jinxes. How about this?"

A blue cloud launched itself at Harry. Uh-oh, the Jelly-Brain jinx. Harry waved his wand and said the spell they were supposed to practice--said it in Latin, like Aran wanted--but the cloud just kept on coming. It surrounded his head and soaked through his skull and after that, it was like the whole room started to wobble. But it felt wonderfully warm, and so nice...

Harry fell to his knees and began wondering what the Great Hall would be serving for lunch that day. Carrots sounded good. Yeah, with that honey glaze the elves sometimes made...

"Finite Incantatem," he heard someone say, and looked up to see both Ron and Draco standing over him. He wasn't sure who had ended the jinx, but it was Draco who extended a hand and pulled him to his feet again.

"Should have known you'd have Malshite here to protect you," sneered Zabini. "Or the hero of Hogsmeade, take your pick." He raised his voice. "Professor Aran! Draco Snape won't let me practice!"

"You hurt Harry and you'll get yours," Draco said in a low voice. "Count on it."

"Just get back to Goyle," said Harry, giving Draco a little shove. He didn't want Draco getting kicked out of classes again.

"Yeah, go work with Goyle," laughed Zabini. "And good luck learning the spell, Malshite. Goyle's not going to jinx you, is he now?"

In the next moment he was already casting another spell. "Diffindo," Zabini said, lazily flicking his wand. Harry stepped back and cast Canis horibilis again, not that it did him much good. His robes still ended up torn.

"This could be rather amusing..." Zabini moved forward and flicked his wand several more times, until Harry's robes were in ribbons and his shirt beneath was torn, besides. "Think I should strip you naked?" menaced Zabini. "Or will Malshite run over here to protect you?"

Draco was watching, Harry saw. His brother looked like he was on the verge of deciding to come back over.

"Diffindo isn't much, though. Maybe a finger-removing spell... or no, better... Furnunculus!"

Zabini's spell didn't hit Harry, though. A shield charm blocked it when it was still more than a foot away. "That's it," yelled Draco from across the room. "You aren't covering Harry with festering boils. And while we're at it, Reparo!"

Harry's clothing repaired itself.

"Ruin my fun, will you?" yelled Zabini, immediately casting a Blasting Curse. Not at Harry, though.

"Ha! Canis horribilis!" Draco called back.

A huge black dog with enormous teeth sailed out of Draco's wand to launch itself at Zabini.

As it flew past, Harry could almost see through it. Not quite, though.

It knocked Zabini flat on his back and held him down. When Zabini tried to move, the dog growled.

Draco made his way across the room and knelt down next to Zabini. "And just think," he lightly snarled. "I can't even get in trouble, not this time. All I'm doing is the assignment."

"Fuck you, Malshite." Zabini shoved again at the huge dog pinning him down, but stopped when the conjured animal opened its jaws wide and set its teeth around his throat.

"Well done, well done," said Aran. "Your father said you were a quick study."

Draco blinked. "He did?"

Aran took a sudden step back. "Er... well, yes. But he didn't want me to tell you, so you'll keep it to yourself. There's a good lad. Now, if you'd just remove your caninae?"

Draco still appeared a little stunned. "Finite," he said, waving his wand toward the dog holding Zabini down. It turned transparent, then vanished into fog.

"I think that's enough practical for today," said Aran. "Return to your desks and re-read the chapter."

"Re-read?" Ron groaned.

Harry, on the other hand, was quite relieved to go read some more. Defence practicals for him were nothing short of target practice, with him as the target. All in all it hadn't been too bad, he supposed.

"Sorry I didn't get ahead of that Furnunculus," Ron glumly whispered once the class had settled down again.

"Don't worry about it. Draco had me--" Too late, Harry realised that wasn't going to help Ron feel better.

"Yeah, Draco. The only one who could cast a decent caninae..."

Harry sighed. Snape had been right; Draco did have an intuitive grasp of magic. There was no sense in being jealous of that.

"Did you notice how his caninae looked a bit like--"

"Yeah," interrupted Harry, not wanting to talk about it. He made a show of burying his nose in the book so Ron would get the point.

"Do you think he tried to make it look like--"

"Ron, I'm trying to read," Harry hissed.

"Detention, Potter," announced Aran from the front of the class. "No talking."

Harry almost slammed his book shut, he was so frustrated. Instead, he slouched down in his seat and kept reading.

Until, that was, Draco began talking to Goyle in a loud voice. "This class has certainly gone downhill since I've been gone. Aran assigns detention for chit-chat but completely ignores the fact that he said jinxes only and one of his students started casting curses instead? A Blasting Curse, even!"

What was Draco doing, trying to get Blaise Zabini into the same detention as Harry? Harry turned and glared.

Draco just looked nonchalantly back, then almost smirked when Aran shot to his feet. "Question how I run my class, will you? There's been too much of that, this year! Detention for you as well! Straight away after class, and if you miss lunch it'll be on your own head! And furthermore, Mr Snape, that'll be ten..." Aran abruptly cleared his throat. "That'll be a detention," he finished.

Draco waited until Aran wasn't looking his way, then grinned over at Harry.

"Yeah, look at him crow," grumbled Ron. "Aran won't take points off him, either. He's too scared of Snape."

Harry chewed a bit on the end of his quill. "Um... yeah, maybe that's it."

"Maybe? What else could he be so happy about?"

"I think... I think he got us a joint detention on purpose," Harry whispered. "So he could be here to watch out for me."

"Hermione and I always stick around!"

"Yeah, but I didn't mention that when I was warning Draco what Aran was like. I just said he almost always gave me a detention, but he didn't like using Filch. Probably too worried Severus would hear about it."

Ron still looked grumpy, but after that he let Harry read.

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Aran often just told Harry what to do in detention, then fled up the short staircase to his office. This time, though, he stayed in the classroom. It was soon easy to see why. He was trying to keep Draco and Harry apart.

Assigning them a detention together seemed an odd way to proceed, Harry thought. But then again, Aran never had been very strong in the brainpower department. He sat them down in different parts of the classroom and watched them like a hawk. And it did look like he'd keep them straight through lunch, but Draco put an end to that. After only twenty minutes of practicing quiet reading, of all things, Draco gave a theatrical sigh and rubbed his stomach. "I sure hope Severus doesn't notice we're missing from the Great Hall," he said loudly. "Can you imagine how angry he'd be to hear his own sons are being starved by another teacher?"

Aran looked up and growled. "Go. Get out. Both of you."

Harry almost hooted with glee.

That feeling was short-lived, however. Almost as soon as he and Draco were out in the hall, Draco was yanking him down a side corridor and then into a small, empty room.

"Hey, what about lunch?"

"Lunch can wait," said Draco, flicking his wand to close the door. He murmured some other spell, one Harry didn't recognise. Probably something to give them privacy. "This can't. Harry... look, I know I promised last night to let you handle the whole Aran thing yourself, but you didn't really tell me how bad it was, did you?"

"It's not that bad--"

"No? He just pairs you with students who hate your guts, and lets them fire off nasty spells at you while you're forbidden to so much as defend yourself! No, that's not bad at all!" Draco abruptly snapped his fingers right in front of Harry's eyes. "Wake up, for Merlin's sake! What does he have to do to make you tell Severus about it, stab your eyes out like Lucius did?"

"Oh, thanks for reminding me. I love thinking about that every day!"

"I'll say whatever you need to hear--"

"Who do you think you are, my father?" Harry shoved past Draco then, only to find that the other boy hadn't been casting a silencing charm before, after all! He'd sealed the room so Harry couldn't get out.

"I think you should tell your father!" Draco snapped back.

"Oh, fuck you." Harry twisted his lips. "What do you know? I've been handling Aran's shite for weeks. You've been back for two days. It's all under control."

"Really?" Draco's crossed arms tightened. "Well, I don't think so. If you can't see it, fine. I'm meeting Severus tonight to go to my therapist, and I'll just tell him myself how Defence is going this year."

"You promised not to!"

"Oh, please. I promised Lucius I'd take the Dark Mark, you know. Want me to keep that one, too?"

"That's hardly the same thing!"

"It certainly is," said Draco coldly. "Circumstances change, and promises have to change along with them. Deal with it, Harry."

Harry had a strong urge to hex Draco, but then a better idea occurred to him. "You tell Severus about Aran and I'll tell him how Slytherin's treating you. Yeah, I'll tell him they all call you Malshite. How do you like that, eh? Or do you want to handle things yourself, too?"

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but obviously thought better of it. He spent a moment thinking, instead. "Fine, fine. I won't tell Severus about Aran, but only on one condition."

"Condition?"

"Yeah, get your head out of your arse! Crap, I can't believe I even have to tell you this. Stand up to Aran! Stop letting yourself get stomped on in class!"

"Refuse to work with anyone but you or Gryffindors, you mean?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I mean you ought to use Parseltongue, you blithering idiot. What's he going to do about it? Expel you? Which brings me to something else. Why the hell do you serve his stupid detentions? He's not going to take points from you or me; that's pretty obvious. And what else can he do, since he's sure not going to go complaining to Severus?"

"Ron said something like that," Harry remembered.

"Well, good for him," Draco only said. "Harry... why have you been putting up with this? It's rubbish! You..." Draco shifted on his feet. "You don't still think, deep down somewhere, that Aran's views on Parseltongue have any merit, do you?"

"No!" exclaimed Harry. He meant it, too. That wasn't what was going on.

"Then why? You must have had a motive."

Harry thought then that Draco was definitely learning things from Marsha.

"I... I guess I thought he'd go to McGonagall to complain, and she'd go to Severus. And you know, he'd demand a parent-teacher conference like I'm eight years old! Come to think of it, though, I'm pretty sure now that Aran won't bother complaining about me to McGonagall at all. She practically told him to his face he was being unfair to me. Hmmm."

"Nothing to worry about there, then."

Harry smiled. "I guess not."

"So you'll start casting in Defence?"

Chewing his lip, Harry thought about it. Aran couldn't do much except yell insults, and he did that anyway. He wouldn't even give Harry poor marks for using Parseltongue, not when it would only bring Severus into his classroom.

He probably should have thought of all this a lot sooner, Harry decided. Maybe he would have, if every other year he'd spent at Hogwarts hadn't more-or-less trained him that teachers were the ones with all the power. Even mean, unreasonable teachers. Not just Snape, either. Umbridge had been even worse.

"Yeah, all right." Harry shrugged. "I'll give it a go, at least. And when Aran starts to scream, I'll... I guess I'll just let him. And I won't serve any more stupid unfair detentions. Yeah, that should be all right."

"That's settled, then." Draco blew out a breath. "Good. Let's get some lunch before Severus really does come looking for us."

They hurried down the corridor and were almost at the Great Hall when Draco asked, "Say, what was with the poodle-girl? She's not in Slytherin... I didn't think she was in Gryffindor, either. What was she doing in our class?"

Harry laughed. "Oh, Luna. Yeah, she's a good sort, but a bit odd at times. A little while back she started showing up in whatever class she felt like."

"And the professors just let her?"

"Well, I haven't seen her try it in Potions," Harry dryly said. "Severus would put a pretty quick end to it, I'm sure. But everyone else... see, it's like this. Luna started going on about how she has to follow her stars. And apparently Trelawney blathered on to everybody about how Luna was a free spirit and mustn't be stifled, something like that. So..." He cracked a grin. "The teachers decided it was easier just to let her come and go, I guess."

"She's going to fail all her N.E.W.T.s."

"O.W.L.s, actually. She's only a fifth year."

Draco rolled his eyes. "And she's popping into sixth-year classes? That's ludicrous!"

Harry's grin widened. "Nah. That's just Luna."

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"First time in a while I've looked forward to Defence," said Harry the next afternoon as he and Draco walked into the classroom together, Ron and Hermione close behind. "Say, I have an idea. You noticed how Aran seemed to want to keep us apart yesterday? Let's work together no matter what he says!"

Draco's eyes gleamed. "Oh, you are a bad boy, aren't you? Going to push the owl as far as it can go?"

"Yeah," drawled Harry, rubbing his hands together. Hermione saw that and gave him a disapproving look.

Good thing we warned all the sixth-year Gryffindors what to expect, Harry thought. They deserved it, after the way they'd stood up for him when Aran had first decided to be such a git. The Slytherins, though... Harry almost laughed, thinking of how they might react to what he and Draco had planned.

"Good afternoon," said Aran in a breezy voice as he entered the classroom from his office at the front. His gaze swept the assembled students, honing in on Harry and Draco almost at once. "Potter, you'll be working with Blaise Zabini again."

Harry had to work hard to school the wicked humour out of his expression. "No," he said, the word loud, clear, and distinct.

Aran stopped in mid-step, his eyes widening. "What did you just dare to say to me, Potter?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," answered Harry in an innocent voice that time. "I meant, No, Professor."

"No, Professor?" shrieked Aran.

"Madam Pomfrey can probably help out with that hearing problem, you know."

Aran stomped up to Harry and Draco's desk and leaned both his hands on it as he leaned over Harry menacingly. Actually, it would have been menacing coming from someone like Snape. From Aran it just looked sort of pathetic, since his eyes were panicked and his arms shaking a little bit. "Potter, you'll do as I say and you'll do it at once."

"No, I won't," said Harry with a smile. "I'm staying right here." He made a show of busying himself, then, getting out books and parchment and quills and such.

"Mal... Snape, you'll change seats, then."

Draco just shook his head as he leaned back, indolent, in his chair.

Aran stared. "Detention after class," he finally hissed, clearly at a loss.

"Sure," said Harry without glancing up. "Like usual. Got it."

Draco didn't bother replying.

The professor huffed, then whirled around and glared at the class. "What are all of you looking at, eh? Get out some parchment and write me a summary of what we learned yesterday about caninae!"

"Well-played," said Draco under his breath.

Harry thought so, too. It took him about ten minutes to finish the write-up Aran had demanded. He didn't think Aran really read too much of their work, especially classwork, and he wasn't brave enough to grade Harry harshly anyway, so Harry was pretty careless about the assignment. He'd started off with some details about the guard-dog spell, mostly because he was in the habit of doing what teachers asked, but after about a paragraph, he'd realised it didn't matter what Aran thought of his work.

No more than it mattered what Aran thought of his class conduct.

So he'd started getting creative.

Caninae are called that because they come in cans, he'd written. The hardest part of the spell is actually the can-opening phase. Many wizards over the years have died horrible, messy deaths when resentful caninae got trapped for too long in their magical cans. Eventually the dogs break free, see. And when they do, they're really, really upset.

Re-reading his summary now, Harry couldn't help but chortle. It was too good to keep to himself, so he passed it over to Draco.

His brother didn't so much as smile, though. "What's a can?"

"Oh, for pity's sake!" exclaimed Harry. A little too loudly, but Aran had already assigned them a detention, so what was he going to do, lay a finger on one of Severus Snape's sons? The man couldn't do a thing to them, not one thing! "A tin! Like the biscuits come in!"

"The lids pop right off those. Why would the caninae have trouble--"

"No, a food tin, like for tuna!" Draco still looked blank, so Harry quickly sketched one and explained how they'd keep food fresh for a long time. Draco made a face like the whole idea of tinned food was revolting.

"Ask Marsha to serve you some canned pears or something," Harry finally said. "I like those well enough."

"I don't go to Marsha for lessons in Muggle cuisine," said Draco scornfully.

"All right," said Harry, shrugging. "How's that going, anyway? You saw her again last night?"

Draco laughed a little. "She likes us to play board games while we talk. She thinks it helps me loosen up and say stuff I'd keep from her if I was less relaxed. It's really all kind of stupid. I mean, the games part. But in general... yeah, it's good. I--"

Before Draco could say more, Aran was snapping at them from the front of the class. "Potter, Mal... Snape! If you're quite through discussing your personal lives--"

"But we aren't," interrupted Harry as he kept leaning over toward Draco. "We'll let you know when we're done."

"Harry!" hissed Hermione from behind him.

Harry was having fun, but he didn't particularly want to have to listen to Hermione rail at him later, so he glanced up at Aran, then. "All right, all through."

Aran's face was red. From behind him, Harry heard students holding in laughter. Some of them weren't doing too well at that, actually. As the teacher looked around, Harry had a sudden flash of intuition that Aran might start taking points off his friends just to get even with him, the way Severus had that time.

But Aran wasn't as cagey as Snape. Not by half. He obviously didn't know what to do about Harry's rudeness. Or Draco's. And if he was angry now...

"Pair up," snapped Aran, shooting to his feet. "We'll practice standard blocks today, since only one student here could competently manage the caninae spell yesterday."

"Yeah, did you get any points for that, Draco?" asked Harry loudly. "I think you should talk to Severus about it, really. The only student who does a bang up good job on the assignment and you didn't get even one measly point for Slytherin?"

"Oh, Severus would be furious," Draco blandly agreed as he brandished his wand.

Aran made sort of a squeaking noise in the back of his throat and hurriedly walked the opposite direction from where Harry and Draco were preparing to duel.

"Hey, worth a shot," said Harry, shrugging. Now that the time had come to use Parseltongue in defiance of all Aran's rules, he was surprised to find himself a little nervous. Or maybe it was just elation. Of course, he'd still have to be careful to appear a bit inept at the whole thing.

Draco flashed him a look that was evil and playful all at once. "Scared, Potter?"

That helped him relax a bit. Harry laughed. "You wish!"

And with that, he cast the first spell. Nothing serious in the least, just a simple Toenail Tickle. The only difficult bit was remembering to focus on the corner of his glasses lens as he cast, but Harry was slowly getting used to that.

Draco blocked it easily, his spell twirling itself around Harry's and choking the life out of it.

"Show off," accused Harry.

"Parselmouth," said Draco back.

Aran didn't hear that, though. Or Harry's spell. Unless he was pretending not to.

So Harry and Draco kept on duelling.

It only took a couple of minutes for Aran to finish the conversation he was having, and notice what Harry was doing.

"Potter!" His voice sounded nothing short of scandalised.

This is really getting old, Harry thought.

"Yes, Professor?" he asked, looking up as if nothing in the world could be wrong.

"Stop that filthy language at once!"

Somehow, baiting Aran had lost its charm. Harry just wanted to be left alone. "No," he said shortly, resuming a duelling stance. "I need to practice, just like everyone else."

"You promised me that you'd practice out of class!"

Oh, that was low, throwing their agreement in his face. "Circumstances have changed," said Harry, remembering Draco saying the same thing. "Deal with it."

Aran's red face looked like it was throbbing. Harry was surprised there wasn't steam pouring out the man's ears.

"Get out," he growled in a low, furious voice. "Get out right now, and don't you dare come back!"

"We've been through this," yelled Harry, his patience snapping. "What am I supposed to do the next time Voldemort tries to kill me, eh? Well, you can just forget it. I'm not leaving and you can't make me! I'm entitled to an education, the same as everyone else here! And for me, that means Parseltongue, so deal with it, like I said!"

Aran whipped his wand out and levelled it at Harry. "You'll leave when I say or you'll suffer the consequences of defiance, young man!"

"Oh yeah, sure I will." Harry took a step toward Aran and laughed. "I don't believe you actually have a death wish, Professor. Do you think Severus won't kill you? It's not like I'm doing anything wrong with the Parseltongue! I just want to do your stupid assignment!"

"Detention," hissed Aran, lowering his wand.

"Yeah. I heard you earlier." Harry turned back to Draco and ignored Aran completely as he resumed their duel, Parseltongue and all.

But the best was yet to come. When class was over, Harry and Draco grinned at each other and packed up their things to go.

"You'll be writing lines today," Aran announced in a frosty voice. "Sit at separate tables and get your parchment back out."

"Sorry, I have places to go, people to see," Harry said, zipping up his book bag.

"As do I," drawled Draco in his haughtiest tone. "However, if you truly wish our presence you can arrange it with Severus. I know he manages my social calendar. Yours as well, Harry?"

"Yeah, mine too." All of a sudden, Harry felt better than he had in ages. It was like he'd been carrying the whole world around and now, all that was just gone. He slung his bag over his shoulder and tucked his wand away in his cloak pocket. "So, that's that then, Professor. See you Wednesday."

They left Aran sputtering with incoherence, their heads held high.

All their poise vanished as soon as they made it to the hallway. Harry collapsed against a wall and howled with laughter. Draco was a bit more restrained, but not much.

Ron joined in while Hermione tapped an impatient foot.

"Did you see the look on his face?" crowed Ron, slapping Harry on the back. "That was brilliant, mate! Absolutely brilliant!"

"Draco's idea," said Harry, gasping for breath.

Ron stopped laughing. "Hey!"

"Actually, Harry said it was your idea first that he ought to stand up to Aran," admitted Draco, nodding. "There, that's one more thing we can agree on."

"What he ought to do," said Hermione, "is tell his father about this."

"I agree with that too," answered Draco, smiling a little. "But he won't, so... All right then, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow. I have to get to Quidditch practice."

"Now?" Harry laughed. "What is that, some strange Slytherin training technique? You practice right through dinner because you play better when you're hungry?"

Draco smirked. "Oh, dear. Your Head of House hasn't ever arranged for the elves to cater something nice out on the pitch, I see."

"Are you serious?"

"Mmm. We get more practice time in, that way. Not to mention, better food." Draco turned to Ron and Hermione. "You two watch out for Harry. No more snogging when you're on duty."

Whirling on a heel, his robes flaring in a fair imitation of Severus', Draco turned and left.

Harry nibbled his lip as he watched him go. "I hope Severus is going to be out there to keep an eye on things. But probably Slytherin won't want to give him broken bones or anything, not before the match. Um, I guess I have to tell you something. I'm going to sit in the Slytherin stands on Saturday. With my dad. To watch Draco, you know. And... er..." He winced, just a bit. "Cheer for Slytherin."

Hermione and Ron just looked at each other like they'd seen that one coming long before Harry had.

Then together, the three of them headed for the Great Hall.

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

The morning of the last Quidditch game dawned muggy and grey. The rising sun merely lightened the sky to a featureless whiteness that seemed to bleach all other colour into boredom.

"I'd bring along some sweets if I were you," said Harry, gazing out the window of his dormitory. "I have a feeling this'll be a long, long game."

"You know something I don't?" Ron asked, his voice was a bit muffled as he was half-way beneath his bed groping about for his missing trainer.

Harry smiled. "No, I just have a feeling. It's cloudy out, no sunshine glinting off the snitch." He turned away from the window. "You mind if we head down to the pitch a little early? I wanted to, uh, talk to Draco about something."

"Ow! Blasted, crummy bed," Ron grumbled. Standing, he rubbed his head with one hand while the other clutched his errant shoe. He did not look happy, but Harry couldn't tell whether it was from bumping his head or the request to see Draco.

"Harry, the Slytherins'll be having their team meeting by the time we get down there. Can't you talk to sodding Draco after the game?" His frown turned into a glare. "Unless you're planning on coaching him on brilliant Seeker moves."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, Ron, and I'm bringing them our playbook, too. Look, if you won't walk me then Hermione will. I'm pretty sure you don't want her going down to the Slytherin changing rooms."

"Oh, fine," Ron said. He tried shoving on his shoe without untying it, but gave up and cast denudare to get rid of the knots in his laces. "You don't have to be such a prat about it."

Harry sighed. "I'm just nervous about how Draco's doing with the Slytherins. He's convinced they won't try anything until after the game, but I'm not so sure." Harry shrugged.

Ron was correct about the timing of the Slytherin's team meeting. Interestingly the door to the locker room admitted Harry but Ron was blocked by an invisible force.

Must be spelled to only admit Slytherins, Harry mused.

"Out!" Erik Vanvelzeer shouted. "No Gryffindor spies!"

"Yeah! Team members only!" called Zabini.

The whole of the Slytherin Quidditch team stood glaring at Harry. Draco, he noted, looked mildly horrified at the intrusion, as well. Harry suspected he'd be getting a lecture on social cunning later.

"Obviously I'm allowed or the door charm would've kept me out. Besides, Bulstrode's here and she's not on the team this year."

"She's . . . er, special," Vanvelzeer defended.

Harry thought that was certainly interesting. "Ron's not staying," he said to mollify them. "I just wanted to have a word with my brother and wish my house team good luck." He gave Ron what he hoped was a meaningful look.

Ron didn't appear to notice it, but before Harry could say something a bit more obvious, Zabini was swaggering forward, his eyes narrowed hatefully.

"Malshite, tell your brother that he's interrupting a team meeting. Ha, he's forgotten how Quidditch matches work. No great surprise there, since Gryffindor won't even let him play."

"As I recall, you wanted him to play," Draco returned coolly. "And I have it on good authority that he hasn't decided which team to play on next year. So, if you still want him I'd suggest you make him feel welcome."

Harry wasn't really sure what Draco was playing at with that comment. Ron certainly took exception to it. "Merlin'll cough up fur balls before Harry ever plays with you snakes!" Ron shouted from beyond the door.

Draco crossed his arms and walked toward the doorway. Harry could just imagine the kind of glare Ron must be receiving. "Weasley, why don't you be a gentleman and go escort Granger to the stands? Harry can hang about here until Severus comes by."

"Fine. See you later, Harry."

As he turned back to the team, Draco flashed Harry a hard look. "Stand by me and don't say a word," he whispered.

The Slytherins were clearly unsettled by Harry's presence, but Draco ploughed ahead reviewing their game strategies. Or tried to. Zabini interrupted him after a few seconds, and did his best to take charge of the team meeting, rattling off instructions quickly and loudly, as if he was worried that Draco would cut in the way he just had. By the time he stopped for Agnes DeMolay, the statuesque seventh year chaser, to deliver a report on the Hufflepuffs' strengths and weaknesses, Harry thought Zabini was actually a bit winded.

"All right team," Zabini resumed. "We just need to get through this one last game. Now I know this has been a rotten year and we've had a bunch of bad breaks, but that's not our fault. We're Slytherins, damn it! And no matter what the counters say, Slytherins are not losers! They think because our so-called Head of House took away all our points that we don't have any points!"

"We don't!" snarled Bulstrode.

Zabini gave her a nasty look and kept right on talking. "When we're all out there on the pitch, just remember this one thing. When you mash up a pumpkin, what do you get? You don't get pumpkin juice. You get what's inside. They can mash us up but they're just gonna get something better out of us."

An uncomfortable silence descended. Harry was just as confounded as the Quidditch players. What the hell was Zabini going on about? After a few seconds Vanvelzeer spoke up. "But isn't pumpkin juice what's inside?"

"I thought it was," said DeMolay in a confused-sounding voice. "Isn't that how you make it? You mash the pulp?"

"Strain it, I think," said a younger Slytherin. Harry didn't remember his name.

Draco shot to his feet. "Oh for Merlin's sake, Zabini! Is that your idea of a pep talk? No wonder the team's been losing! You make about as much sense as Trelawney after she's been guzzling her so-called medicinal tea!"

"Oh yeah, Malshite? At least I've been here this year, leading this team!"

"Leading it into the ground, sounds like! Why don't you just tell them that no matter how bad gets out there, it'll all be over soon?"

Zabini gave a sarcastic wave of his hand. "Oh, and you think you can waltz in here and do better, do you, Malshite?"

Draco's own gesture was dismissive if not contemptuous. "Listen, Weasley could've stayed and done better than you."

"That's enough squabbling," Harry cut in, a bit surprised to find himself talking at all. "I think what Zabini was trying to say is that you lot have gotten a raw deal what with the points and all. And, I know you blame me and think that I'm glad for what my father did--"

"Yeah, and aren't you?" Zabini crossed his arms, glowering.

Harry glared. "As far as I'm concerned, it's rotten that the entire house has to suffer just because a few money-grubbing morons decided to murder one of their own and frame another member of the house. Slytherin's in last place point-wise, but at this point that hardly matters. The other houses all thought you were a bunch of losers well before Severus took those thousand points away!"

"Losers, are we?" shrieked Bulstrode.

While Harry had been speaking, Draco had moved over to his side, but not to support him. Not even to defend him. No, what Draco apparently wanted was to be close enough to shut Harry up. He pinched Harry's arm. Hard.

Harry ignored the flash of pain near his elbow.

"Yeah, losers," he said, raising his voice. "And you know why they all think that of Slytherin? It's because those three arseholes broke the ultimate rule. And I don't mean that they were working for Voldemort. They killed a member of their own house! And here the rest of you are going around calling Draco Malshite, turning on him the same way they did! What do you expect the other houses to think of you, eh? Does Slytherin brotherhood means less than nothing? Is there even any such thing? I'll tell you what the other houses all think! If you'd stab one another in the back just to get ahead then you're all worthless!"

Another pinch from Draco. Ouch. That one was going to leave a bruise. Better get to the point, Harry thought.

"But look, we all know that nothing in the world takes more strategy and cunning and skill and teamwork than a really, really good Quidditch win. And Draco's set you up for one! You know, he could just get out there and catch the snitch as fast as he could to prove that he hasn't lost his touch despite being unfairly expelled and all. But he's putting Slytherin first by coming up with this strategy to give you all the chance to earn as many points as you can. And by Merlin, you ought to go out there and show everyone that Slytherins aren't a bunch of short-sighted opportunists. Show them that when you all work together, you're a force to be reckoned with."

Silence descended on the locker room once again and for a few moments, Harry thought he'd just made a total arse of himself. Strangely enough, it was Millicent Bulstrode who first set his mind to rest.

"Hell yeah!" she hollered, jabbing a meaty fist into the air.

Vanvelzeer echoed her, and then DeMolay, and soon everyone but Zabini was chanting victory cheers.

During the hubbub, Draco managed to pull Harry aside. "Brilliant! Just brilliant, Harry!"

Harry chuckled. "Well, it was better than the juice lecture, anyway."

"I thought you'd gone completely barmy at first, but you really brought them 'round. Um... sorry about your arm, then."

"Sorry you tried to puncture it with those bony fingers, you mean?"

Draco grinned and flexed his hands inside his Quidditch gloves. "Long and slender, you mean. But anyway... yeah, good speech. I guess I owe you for that one."

Harry couldn't have asked for a better opportunity. "Good. 'Cause see, I want you to start wearing this again." Digging into his cloak pocket, Harry pulled out Draco's turquoise protection amulet. "Severus got it back from the Aurors the other day and he gave it to me."

Draco looked a bit offended. "Did he! Well, I like that! It's mine, not yours!"

"I think he thought you might... er, tip it in the rubbish," Harry admitted. "You know, bad memories. But once I had it, I got to thinking about how dangerous Quidditch can be, not to mention, er, your house mates. And this worked so well last time. Too well, you might say, but still..."

Draco snatched the amulet from Harry's hand, but didn't look up to meet Harry's eyes. "Thanks. I'll tuck it under my uniform, then. Just to make you feel better, of course."

"Oh, of course."

Draco looked at him, then, his eyes glinting with suspicion. Probably at Harry's dry tone. "Well, I can't have following me out onto the pitch, can I?"

Harry laughed. "What makes you think I would?"

Adopting a light tone, Draco murmured, "Oh, just what happened the last time I wore this. Do me a favour, eh? If it looks like I'm in a tight spot, Seeker-wise, don't go firing off any overwhelming feelings of love at me, all right?"

"Yeah, it's awful when something startles you enough to make you fall off your broom." Harry gave Draco a meaningful look. Unlike Ron, Draco got the point at once.

"Are you ever going to forget my little Dementor trick, Harry?"

Grinning, Harry fished and Jelly Slug from his pocket and popped it in his mouth. "Probably not."

"Prat."

"I'm the prat?" Harry's grin faded. "You just go out there and do Slytherin proud, Draco."

Draco's silver eyes gleamed as he nodded and re-joined his team-mates.

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

Snape didn't come to the Slytherin changing room until a few moments before the game was due to start. Harry didn't know why he was cutting it so fine, but as they hurried up the stairs to the Slytherin stands, Snape said he'd been checking over the pitch and equipment to be sure everything was in order.

"We don't want the Snitch charmed to become a Portkey," he added with a grim look in his eyes.

Harry shivered, wishing he'd had somebody back in fourth year to look out for him the way Snape was looking after Draco.

They missed Draco's entrance into the stadium; the teams were already flying practice loops around the pitch when Harry and Snape took their seats.

Just a few moments after that, though, Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the match began.

Old habits had Harry's eyes trained on the Snitch as it hovered tauntingly between the two Seekers and then leapt out of their reach. Higher and higher it went, until Harry lost it in the murk of the sky.

Snape tapped his shoulder. "Your brother's over there," he said, flicking his hand in gesture.

When Harry looked in the direction indicated, he saw Draco and the Hufflepuff Seeker speeding along at almost ground level. Every time the other Seeker tried to lever herself upward, away from the grass just below, Draco got in her way and forced her back down towards the ground.

Meanwhile, above him, the Quaffle was in furious play.

"...and Slytherin scores yet again!" announced the loudspeaker.

The Hufflepuff Seeker broke free, flying nearly vertically, Draco hot on her tail. Managing to get ahead of her, he tried to force her back down to the ground, but she spun her broom upside-down and neatly escaped by flying beneath him. Draco gripped his broom more tightly and fell into a pursuit.

"And the battle of the Seekers continues!" shouted the announcer. Harry didn't recognise the voice, though when he squinted it seemed like the distant commentator was a short girl wearing Ravenclaw colours. "Draco Malfoy seems to think the object of the game is to pin down Seraphim Sellberg! Somebody ought to tell that boy that he's supposed to be hunting up the Snitch!"

Somebody ought to tell you that there's such a thing as strategy, Harry mentally growled.

"She called him Draco Malfoy," Harry complained. "Are people dense, or what?"

"I'll have a word with her in Potions," said Snape with a grim look.

Uh-oh. Harry was glad he wasn't in the announcer's place.

"Oh, it looks like Malfoy has spotted the Snitch after all!" the Ravenclaw girl suddenly shouted. "And Sellberg's following close behind. The score stands at Slytherin 80, Hufflepuff 20. Either team could win depending on who gets that Snitch in hand first! They're up, up and away!"

Must be a Muggleborn, Harry absently thought as he listened and peered up at the greying sky.

"And now they're lost in the clouds. Rotten luck we can't see the action." A loud bell clanged. "And Slytherin scores again! Agnes DeMolay is certainly having a banner morning. She's already got the Quaffle again--"

Harry saw the Snitch then, and it wasn't up in the clouds with the two Seekers. It was hovering, nice as you please, just a few feet away from Snape. Harry's fingers started itching, they wanted so badly to reach out and snatch it. He had to sit on his hands to keep them from darting out.

Snape gave him a knowing look, then resumed watching the action.

If the Snitch was way down here, Draco's flight up into the clouds was a feint designed to prolong the game by leading the other Seeker on a wild goose chase. Harry had sort of wondered, but he'd also thought it was possible Draco had noticed the other Seeker spotting the Snitch. In which case he'd have to get in her way...

The Snitch buzzed away and started more-or-less taunting players by circling around their heads.

"Seraphim! Seraphim!" screamed a Hufflepuff Beater. "It's down here! Down here!"

"...and yet another goal for Slytherin!" said the announcer, a little bit bored sounding, now. Her voice perked up though, when she said, "Wait! There seems to be a bit of a hubbub on the pitch. The Hufflepuff Beaters are ignoring the Bludgers completely and having some sort of conversation. And now they're both yelling something. Sounds like they're calling for their Seeker--" Clang. The announcer ignored the goal for Slytherin. "No sign yet of Seraphim returning... wait, there she is! But Malfoy's forcing her back up into the clouds, flying a tight spin around her--"

"Play fair!" some loud voices from the next stand over started yelling. Hufflepuffs. Harry felt a bit bad hearing that. Probably what Draco was doing wasn't so sportsmanlike.

Clang!

At the edge of the murk, it looked a bit like Draco and Seraphim were having a Muggle-style fight, now. Harry couldn't be sure, but he could almost swear that Draco put a hand on the girl's broom, and she gave him and almighty kick that sent him hurtling backwards.

Clang!

And then Seraphim was steering her broom into a steep dive, headed straight for the Snitch. Her hand stretched out, her fingers straining, she swerved right and left, matching its movements. Draco was headed downward too, headed for her, but he was too far away.

Seraphim was going to get the Snitch before Draco could get to her.

Clang!

"No," Harry said under his breath, his throat feeling tight. Slytherin would never start treating Draco right if he lost this match!

But somebody else was saying no, too. Shouting it, actually.

"No, Seraphim, no!!!" screamed the Beater who had called her down in the first place. "We're too far behind on points! Slytherin'll win! Let us catch up, first!"

She didn't seem to hear at first, but then her head tilted sharply to the side and she braked her broom slightly, letting the Snitch edge away.

Draco didn't see the change until too late, and barrelled straight into her in his effort to keep her from catching the Snitch.

Down and down and down they fell, a multicoloured tangle of Quidditch robes as they spun.

Harry shot to his feet and leaned out over the railing to watch Draco fall. "Do something!" he yelled at Snape. "Arresto momentum or something!"

Clang. Ignoring everything else, DeMolay was continuing to score goal after goal.

"Draco's not unconscious," said Snape calmly. "And he's a good enough flyer not to appreciate my interference."

Sure enough, Draco was the first to recover from the dive. As soon as he was stable, he circled around in a sharp downward loop and put out a hand to steady Seraphim's broom, too.

"Well, would you look at that!" exclaimed the announcer. "Draco Malfoy's certainly being uncharacteristically gentlemanly. Helping out a fellow player in need. Now that's the true spirit of Quidditch!"

Harry almost guffawed, and not just with relief. How wrong could you get? In the first place, that wasn't the true spirit of Quidditch. It wasn't anything to do with Quidditch! And in the second place, Draco had kept the other team's Seeker from crashing for one reason only -- to keep the game from being called.

Though it was probably just as well if everyone thought he was doing it from higher motives.

"And the Seekers are off again!" continued the announcer. "If Seraphim catches the Snitch now--the score stands at Hufflepuff 40, Slytherin 210--she'll cement a win for Slytherin. Bit of a dilemma, there. She needs to keep Draco Malfoy from ending the game--"

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Harry's ears were starting to hurt a bit from all the frantic noise. Quidditch matches could last an awfully long time, of course. They just usually didn't.

This one began dragging on, and on.

And on.

The announcer stopped mentioning goals unless they were by Hufflepuff. But that was pretty rare. She even stopped reporting on the Seekers' antics. Draco didn't have to stop Seraphim from catching the Snitch any longer. She had no interest in it as long as Hufflepuff was so far behind. She'd begun helping out her team by trying to get in Agnes DeMolay's way. At one point she even grabbed a Beater's bat from an exhausted looking team-mate, and had started whacking Bludgers toward the Slytherin chaser.

Meanwhile, Draco was doing his best to stay in the way of anyone who might get in DeMolay's way.

Harry didn't think he'd so much as glanced around for the Snitch in ages.

"Come on, now," shouted some Gryffindors from a few stands down. "We're dying of boredom, here!"

The announcer kept on talking in the vein she'd been in for quite a while. "It looks like Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones have begun playing patty cake. Several students in the Ravenclaw stands appear to be asleep. Oh--" The announcer leaned over and listened to something Dumbledore was whispering in her ear. "The headmaster would like everyone to know that conjured pillows have a nasty habit of disappearing right soon as you've got properly to sleep, so let's be careful with those..."

Apparently just as bored as all the spectators, the Snitch landed on the handrail right in front of Harry and began grooming itself, using one wing to brush off the other one.

"It appears to have an affinity for you," said Snape. "Perhaps that's the secret of your vaunted success on the pitch, eh?"

Harry smiled a little. "I think it just knows that if I were playing, I wouldn't mess about like this."

"Oh, indeed. You never check the score before you catch it?"

Harry glanced over at the scoreboard. "Well, when Gryffindor's six hundred points ahead I don't tend to drag things out even further." He cleared his throat and met his father's eye. "For some reason, Draco wants Slytherin to earn at least a thousand points today."

"Imagine that," murmured Snape.

"Yeah, that whole points thing was... um, very fatherly," Harry forced himself to go on, though considering they were surrounded by Slytherins, he lowered his voice. "Choosing me over your house, I mean."

Snape swivelled his head away and sought out Draco with his gaze. "Well, there's house and then there's home," he murmured, and then, with a sidelong glance, added, "Don't you dare thank me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," laughed Harry.

"...Slytherin 850, Hufflepuff 70," said the announcer, sounding like she could barely keep her feet any longer. Someone behind her was actually snoring.

"This is rubbish, rubbish!" screamed someone in the Gryffindor stands. "Draco Snape's not even trying!"

"Neither is Sellberg, you twit!" screamed Bulstrode back.

Snape winced and covered his ears for a scant second. Then he shrugged. "At least it appears you've convinced your dorm mates as to your brother's name."

"Don't you dare thank me," laughed Harry.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

"This actually is getting boring now," said Harry. The Snitch had curled its wings around its body and gone to sleep, by then. It was still sitting just two feet from Harry. The urge to snatch it up was getting stronger and stronger, but boy would that get him in trouble with Slytherin, Harry thought.

"We're bloody starving!" screamed a voice to the far left. "It's gone one, already!"

After a moment, a chorus of voices from that box took up a chant. "WE. NEED. FOOD. WE. NEED. FOOD. WE. NEED. FOOD!"

The demand spread like wildfire from stand to stand, until even the Slytherins all around Harry were screaming it too. Even though they wanted the match to go on until Slytherin had caught up on points.

Dumbledore stood up and waved his wand a few times, then whispered at the announcer again.

"Lunch will be provided in your seats in a few moments," said the announcer, sighing. "Dinner, too, I'm informed. And if the match goes past 10 p.m. we're all promised hot cocoa..."

Harry munched happily when his lunch came, glad to have something to do besides watch the monotonous action on the pitch. Goals weren't very exciting when they came pretty much non-stop for hours. The Hufflepuffs by then seemed almost resigned to their fate. When they tried to stop DeMolay at all, it was a pathetic, half-hearted effort.

Most of the time they just hovered in the air, their eyes glazed, and watched her score.

Clangclangclangclangclang.

Some of that wasn't DeMolay; Harry's ears were ringing.

"Mmm, fried chicken," said a voice just above him. "Don't mind if I do."

Draco lowered his broom slightly and came into view just in front of Harry, then proceeded to help himself to a drumstick which he ate with obvious relish, even licking his fingers as he hovered there, completely ignoring the game behind him.

"I thought it was rude to help yourself to food from a dining companion's plate," jibed Harry.

Draco shrugged. "Not at a picnic. Is that chocolate milk? Hand it over." Once he had finished the entire glass, Draco rubbed his stomach and grinned. "Enjoying the game?"

Harry leaned forward. "How long are you going to keep this up? Slytherin's way ahead already!"

"Well, now that I know I can zip by here for meals, there's really no reason to end it--"

"Draco," interrupted Snape. "You have met your goal, I do believe."

"Yes, but what's one thousand when we could have two? Or five? Or--"

"He's gone mad with power," said Harry.

"Can I have a roll?"

"Draco!"

"Oh, all right," groused the boy. "I did see it, you know."

Draco manoeuvred his broomstick until the end of it was pointed at the Snitch sleeping on the handrail. "Psst!" he hissed. "Yeah, you! Wake up!"

The Snitch lifted one wing as though peeking out from under it, then appeared to give a little stretch.

"Fly, you lazy little bugger," said Draco, laughing. He poked at it again. "Go on, now--"

The Snitch jumped up and hovered over the handrail, buzzing indignantly.

Reaching out a hand, Draco calmly closed his fingers around it.

The Slytherins all around Harry and Snape exploded with the noise of a celebration too long delayed.

"...a commotion in the Slytherin stand, it seems. Draco Malfoy's over there, not sure what the problem could be..."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," muttered Draco, whirling his broom around and heading for the announcer as he held the Snitch aloft.

"...Oh! It seems that Draco Malfoy has finally caught the Snitch--"

"Draco Snape! Draco Snape! Get it right, for Merlin's sake!" shouted the boy as he circled the pitch in what looked like a victory lap. The Slytherins roared with cheers, but everybody else pretty much looked bored. Except the Hufflepuffs. They were seething.

When Draco landed, his team rushed up to him. Harry couldn't hear what they were saying, but it all looked very positive. Congratulations, something like that. They even lifted him up and carried him off the pitch on their shoulders, though it wasn't like he'd performed some daring stunt to catch the Snitch.

He had, however, held off long enough to get them their thousand points. And more.

The final score stood at Hufflepuff 130, Slytherin 1260.

Harry saw his father staring at the scoreboard. "Pretty good, eh?"

Snape's lips quirked upward. "It's not enough to put Slytherin in first place, but it is a start."

"Three weeks left in term," Harry reminded him. "That's not much time to catch up the rest of the way."

"Gloating that Gryffindor may well win yet again?"

Harry felt his ears burning. "No--"

Snape laid a hand on his arm. "I spoke in jest, Harry. You have done quite well, really, balancing out your responsibilities to both your houses. I don't imagine it's an easy task."

"Not easy, no," said Harry, remembering what Draco had mentioned about Harry still deciding what team to play for next year. If he played at all. "Come on, Dad. The crowd's thinned out. Let's go down and find Draco."

The Slytherin changing rooms were stuffed with people now, every one of them talking fast. Harry could hardly catch a word, though he did notice that the name Draco figured prominently. Sometimes even, Draco Snape.

One other word stuck out as well.

"Malshite," drawled Zabini in about as nasty a voice as Harry had ever heard. The room went silent. "You think this makes you some sort of fucking hero, Malshite? Because you can fly around in circles for hours while the rest of the team does the hard work of scoring goals? Well, if you think this makes you one of us again you can--"

"Shut up, Blaise," ordered Agnes DeMolay. "So it was an unconventional kind of match. Doesn't take a thing away from our Seeker. If Draco hadn't stopped Sellberg from getting the Snitch early on, we wouldn't have all those points."

"Yeah, so stop calling him Malshite!" ordered Erik Vanvelzeer.

"Yeah!" echoed Millicent Bulstrode.

Ignoring Bulstrode, Zabini turned his ire on Vanvelzeer. "You're the one who testified he was a murderous little bastard!"

"I was memory-charmed, you complete arse," spat Vanvelzeer. "Draco's done us a good turn here today, and the way you've been treating him, it's a wonder he wanted to bother! If I hear you call him Malshite again, I'll shove a hex so far up your nose it hits brain. Got it?" He raised his voice still further. "And that goes for the rest of you as well!"

"Yeah!"

Bulstrode again. Harry had figured out by then that she was either dating Erik, or sweet on him.

"Well said, Mr Vanvelzeer," said Snape, emerging from the shadows. The way nobody had noticed him, Harry thought he must have cast a silent Disillusionment charm. Over both of them, maybe. But it was gone, now.

"Harry!" cried Draco, grinning. "Didn't see you there!"

Snape resumed speaking in a deep, serious voice. "Ladies and gentlemen. In case you've forgotten, we are Slytherins. That means more than mere cunning. It also means we can learn from our mistakes. When it is clear that a previous allegiance is indeed an error in judgment, a Slytherin will not cling blindly to the past in some vain hope that it will all work out for the best. A true Slytherin will think the matter through and make a new choice, the one most likely to serve his ends.

"Draco has done this. The cost to him was high, as I think you know. But the cost of holding to his previous course would have been far higher, still." Snape's voice took on a booming tone. "Which of you here aspires to be a slave? Come, speak! I wish to know!"

The room remained silent, a slight chill settling over the students. Harry shivered too, even though he knew this speech wasn't really for him.

"I see your thoughts in your eyes," continued Snape remorselessly. "You think--some of you, at any rate--oh, but it won't be like that. Not for me. Idiot children. Can you possibly be more naïve? I was in your place once. I know whereof I speak! There is no security or freedom under Voldemort, and precious little reward. There is only pain, and abject service, and this."

With that, Snape held his left arm out and tapped it to vanish away all the fabric covering it. Even the bandage he habitually wore faded away.

A collective gasp--or maybe more of a groan--washed through the students as they crowded closer for a better look, then shrank back.

"I was in his inner circle," stressed Snape. "One of his most trusted confidantes. And I was a slave all the same, ladies and gentlemen. You have heard this before, but perhaps now you're ready to listen. Think on it. Think on it long and hard."

Harry thought their father was through, then, but Snape had one more thing to say. "Mr Zabini. Public use of foul language is, as I do believe you know, strongly frowned upon at Hogwarts. See me in my office this evening at 6 p.m. We will discuss whether ten thousand lines will be sufficient to deter you in future--"

"Ten thousand lines," shrieked Zabini. "Just for saying Malshite?"

"Ten thousand per incident, perhaps," drawled Snape with a hard glare. That shut Zabini up, Harry saw.

It made someone else gasp, though. Ron was standing at the door to the changing room, looking in, Hermione's hand clasped in his.

Harry rushed over. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

Ron's expression was something between a grin and a grimace. "Well, the old ball-and-chain here--"

Hermione yanked her hand from his grasp and huffed.

"Sorry," Ron said, sounding cheerful, then. "Hermione convinced me that seeing as Draco's your brother and all, and you're our best mate, the done thing to do would be drop by and offer him a quick congratulations. So, you tell him for me, all right?"

"Ronald!"

"She's not going to let you off," said Harry, good-naturedly. "Draco! Come on over here for a minute."

"What is it?" And then, with a bit of a scowl at Ron. "Oh. Him." Draco glanced back at the crowd. "Let's get some fresh air." He led the way outside. "Well?"

"Congratulations," said Ron, the word muffled even though there was nothing in front of his mouth.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Congratulations!"

"Yes, I should be fêted," agreed Draco, beaming a bright smile. One of those fake, not-sure-how-to-handle-this smiles, no less. "That really was quite some playing I did. Saving Sellberg, now that was above and beyond. Surely it's worth a little kiss from the lovely lady at your side?"

"Draco!" yelled Harry. "Sorry, he gets like this. Giddy. We think it's a psychological problem. Um, overcompensating--"

Ron curled a lip, his face flushing red. "Yeah, for being even poorer than I've ever been!"

"Ronald!"

"Oh yeah, that was magnanimous and gracious, all right!" Harry said, crossing his arms as he glanced at Draco, whose posture was suddenly... off. He was posing again, Harry sensed. Bracing himself for the rest of the ridicule Ron clearly had stored up.

Ron though, looked about as horrified as Hermione at the words that had come out of his mouth. "I didn't mean to say it like that!" he exclaimed. "I... Listen, Draco, you shouldn't threaten to kiss Hermione!"

"I didn't threaten her, you moronic lack-brained twit. And even if I had, the girl knows how to defend herself. And besides, it's not me she goes off snogging with in dark corners when she's supposed to be--"

Draco stopped speaking.

Ron shifted nervously on his feet. "Right. Look, it's just been on my mind, all right? I could hardly miss the gossip. And I just wanted to say... Um."

"Articulate as ever, I see."

"Shut up," said Ron, but without much heat. "I know being poor must be hard on you. That's what I meant to say about it. I mean, I'm sure it's a lot more difficult to... er, lose all those Galleons, than be like me, who never had them."

Draco gave a studied yet nonchalant shrug. "I suppose it would strain credulity to deny it."

Ron nodded. "And... you're sticking by Harry anyway, and... well, it's good to see. I thought for the longest time you'd double-cross him. But... um, here you are poor, and still here, and... well, I guess you're in it for good."

Draco considered that for a long moment. Then, flipping out his wand, he extended the handle towards Ron. "Truce, we'll say."

"We're not at war. That's what I meant."

"It's a gesture, you imbecile."

Ron still just stared at the wand, until Hermione gave him a little push from behind. "All right, then." He drew his own wand and holding it backwards, touched it to Draco's.

Hermione bounced on her toes a little, and kissed each of them on the cheek.

"Knew I'd get a kiss in the end," said Draco when he pulled his wand back.

Harry had to hand it to him. If Draco was disgusted to have been touched by a Muggleborn, he sure didn't let it show. Maybe Marsha had been better for him than Harry knew. Or maybe he was just being a Slytherin and not admitting how prejudiced he still really was.

And speaking of being Slytherin...

"Now that Severus knows about that Malshite business," Draco mused, "your charming little hold over me is gone. Finito. There's nothing to stop me from telling Severus all about Aran. Isn't that right, Harry?"

"Nothing to tell any longer," said Harry, refusing to be drawn. Draco wasn't going to run to Severus; Harry could tell. "Not now that I'm doing what I should have done from the first."

"You think you should have been insufferably rude from the first?" asked Hermione.

"I'll tone it down," said Harry. "A little. Maybe. If I feel like it..."

Draco practically snorted with laughter, but cut it out when Snape emerged to join them. "Something amuses you, Draco?"

Harry could see Draco thinking fast. "Ten thousand lines for Zabini. That's like aguamenti to a dying man, Severus."

"I think it's right fair of you, Professor," Ron put in, nodding. "So Harry, are you going home for the weekend, then? Hermione and I will see you later."

Once Harry was alone with his family, Snape turned to Draco. "Congratulations on your fine win," he said dryly. "The sheer suspense of that match truly numbed the mind."

Draco didn't quibble with that. "I want more chicken! And that roll! And I want to go look at the point counters! And I want to go to Hogsmeade for my chocolate frogs that somebody left behind! Can I have my allowance, Severus? Can I have a bonus for getting Slytherin all those points?"

As Draco headed back up to the castle, babbling up a storm, Harry and Snape exchanged an exasperated look.

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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other

Chapter Ninety: A Word, Harry, if You Please

Comments very welcome,

Aspen

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Betaed by the Fabulous Mercredi.
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