Better Angels

Better Angels

Chapter Nine

The Party

Draco was curled up in his armchair with Fifty Greatest Fouls on his lap when he heard a tap at his door. Expecting Snape, he answered it.

Instead, Zenobia, Grumbine, and Granger stood at the head of a crowd of Dragons, sacks and bottles in their hands. "Hi, Malfoy," Zenobia said. "There's a party out here, looking for a place to be."

"Uh..." Baffled, he stepped back. "Come in, then."

They did. Hermione busied herself clearing his table and directing the others where to put the food and drinks they had brought. Zenobia, still wearing her Slytherin robes, said, "I nicked the wireless from our common room. Where should I set it up?"

"Oh...over here, I guess." He cleared a spot on the bookshelf, under the windows.

"Nice place you have here," she said, turning it on and trying to find a signal.

"Yeah."

"I've got something to tell you," she said, studying the dial of the wireless set with unnecessary concentration.

"What?"

"Flint offered me one of the Beater spots on the House team. Now that Crabbe and Goyle are...you know."

He forced himself to smile. "That's great, Zenobia. You're really good, you deserve it."

"I...haven't told him yes or no yet. I thought...if you wanted, I could tell him he has to take both or us or neither."

For a second, his heart leapt.

Then he looked around at his rooms. The rooms he lived in because if he lived in Slytherin, somebody would probably kill him. The rooms that were now filled with his friends.

"Nah," he said, with deliberate casualness. "Thanks, but I'll stick with the Dragons."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Let's see if we can get WWN 5 on that thing."

Zenobia grinned at him. "I doubt the Slytherin wireless set has ever been tuned to the muggle music station."

"I heard tell it was once, when Elvis was first played in Britain."

"Who?"

"Never mind."

"So it's true you're a--"

A scream came from the kitchen area.

Draco pushed through the ring of bodies surrounding Violet and Hermione, the latter of whom was holding Snuffles aloft by his handle. "I think it's just his Transfiguration homework," Granger was saying. "Looks like it started out as a teapot."

Snuffles was waving his feet and spout helplessly. Draco seized him from Granger's hands and cradled the teapot against his chest. "You're scaring him! Are you all right, Snuffy?"

The teapot snuffled its spout at his shirt-front.

Granger stared. "Malfoy, is that--what is that?"

"It's my teapot," he said ridiculously.

"Well, it crawled up Violet's leg. Gave her a terrible fright."

"He doesn't mean any harm. I'll put him in my room, don't want him getting stepped on."

She followed him. "Is that a pet?"

"Sort of." He put Snuffles on the bed.

"You have a pet teapot," she said, as if trying out the idea.

"Yes. Go to sleep, Snuffy, I won't let the bad witch hurt you."

"And you call it Snuffy?"

"That's exactly what Professor Snape said when he saw him."

"You've always been weird, Malfoy, but this is new."

"Shut up," he said briskly, pushing Granger out of his room and closing the door behind them.

"I'm not sure I want to know this, but...how do you know it's a boy teapot?"

Draco blinked. "It just is."

"Does it...he...eat and everything?"

"Yes."

"That's really impressive. You should show McGonagall. You did Transfigure it yourself?"

"Of course I did." He paused by Violet. "Are you okay? Snuffles is really friendly, he just...we don't usually have visitors."

"Snuffles?" Granger looked horrified.

"Yes, I'm fine," Violet said. "I was just...startled."

"Malfoy," Granger said urgently, "Whatever you do, don't tell Harry your teapot's name is Snuffles, okay?"

"I doubt it would ever occur to me to do so," he said stiffly. His teapot was none of Potter's business. "Why?"

"Never mind. Just...don't."

"Okay." He shrugged, and went to check on Zenobia, who was still tinkering with the wireless. "Try putting the ariel up closer to the window, like this," he said, moving it.

That static resolved into a pounding bass line. "There we go."

"So," she said, leaning in to be heard over the music. "It's true you're a...muggle-lover."

He stared at her. "Well, not carnally, is that's what you mean."

"Why?" She stared back, looking honestly puzzled.

"I made some muggle friends in hospital," he said. "Nice bunch of kids. Do you want to dance?"

"To this? How?"

"Come on, I'll show you."

He and Zenobia started the dancing, and soon Granger had dragged Longbottom onto the floor.

He danced almost as well as he played Quidditch.

In short order, most of the kids were having a go at muggle dancing--except for a few of the 1^st and 2^nd year boys, who were clearly too young to appreciate the advantages of a dancing style that required more physical contact than hands on hands. Grumbine and her boyfriend, Hillwood, started dancing but quickly moved on to full frontal snogging--which Draco understood was the accepted muggle practice, so all to the good.

Settling Zenobia with another partner (a Ravenclaw girl who played Chaser), he found Violet Huffnargle watching a knot of younger boys who were clustered near the food table shoving each other.

"Fancy a dance?" he asked her.

She looked up at him. "Uh...okay!"

He danced two numbers with her, then said, "There, now you're an expert. Maybe you want to show one of them how?" He nodded toward the younger boys.

"Um..." She blushed furiously.

"Which one do you want? I'll cut him from the herd."

She blushed some more. "Charlie, I guess," she muttered.

That was Banger-Jones. He strode over and tapped the boy on the shoulder. "Mr. Banger-Jones, would you mind seeing to Miss Hufnargle?"

"Huh?" he said, around a mouthful of Chocolate Frog.

"It's your duty as a gentleman to see that ladies who wish to dance aren't left standing." Did no one outside of Slytherin go to cotillion?

"Oh!" Comprehension dawned. With a nervous look at his mates, Charlie Banger-Jones smoothed back his hair and extended his hand to Violet.

Draco snagged a butterbeer and leaned against the wall. Granger appeared at his side. "I don't think my toes will ever be the same," she said, slipping out of her shoes.

That was what she got for dancing with Neville.

"Good party. Looks like everyone's having fun."

"Yeah." He looked around proudly, and took a pull at his butterbeer.

"You're a good host. I'm surprised."

He glared at her. "Why? It's one of the things I was raised for."

She frowned. "Your parents never struck me as party people."

"Are you kidding? Political fundraisers, charity do's...hardly a week went by we didn't have a party at the Manor."

"Your parents supported charities? What kind?"

"You don't want to know. Actually, they did things for some perfectly respectable Muggle charities, to keep up appearances. Tory MPs and the local youth club. But there are a lot of pure-blood groups they supported."

"Like that?"

"Well, there's the Pure Mother's League. They give abortions, divorces, virginity restoration and brainwashing to pureblood girls carrying mixed babies. I've always had my suspicions what they did with the fetuses," he mused.

Granger looked disgusted.

"There are a number of legitimate--well, semi-legitimate--Potions applications." He shrugged.

"Such as?"

"Anti-aging elixirs, mostly. I admit, the ick factor is high."

"You aren't kidding." She changed the subject. "Nice rooms."

"Yeah. I thought, when I moved in, how great they'd be for parties. Now I get to have one."

She looked over at him. "Yeah. You do."

#

Severus tapped at Draco's door. When it opened, he saw, not Draco but a Hufflepuff first year, who squeaked and yelled, "Draco! It's Snape!"

The room behind him was dimly lit and crowded with bodies, writhing to what seemed to be--must have been, although it didn't sound like--music.

Draco, wearing his blue and silver scarf and a Dragons badge pinned to his robes, came to the door and said stagily, "Sorry, Professor, are you being too loud?" before stepping into the corridor and drawing the door closed behind him.

"I didn't realize you had company," Severus said stiffly. He had brought a bottle of claret, intending to toast Draco's triumph and hash over the finer points of the match.

Clearly, his services were unnecessary.

"Uh, yeah. They wanted a victory party, and it seemed the best place..." Draco looked embarrassed.

"Good, good," he said in a horrible tone of false heartiness. "Glad you're...having fun." He really tried not to sneer the last two words, but they came out dripping with contempt anyway.

Draco dropped his eyes. "Sorry. I...it should be over soon, if you want to come back. Granger's been making noises for a half an hour about how we have lessons tomorrow. I'm sure she's dying to go study or sleep standing up or snog Weasley or whatever she does in her off hours, but she's not about to go and leave the ickle firsties unsupervised in the Lair of Malfoy. As soon as she succeeds in rounding them up, things'll break up. I would give her a hand, if you want..."

"No, no, don't let me...I'll see you tomorrow, I'm sure." He backed away. Idiot. As if the boy would want to celebrate with you, having another option.

"Well, if you're sure..." Draco politely masked what he was sure must have been relief.

"I am. Goodnight. Have fun."

He fled.

#

The next morning, Draco hesitated outside of Snape's rooms. Last night, briefly, he had been worried that the Professor was angry with him. Then he's realized--with some embarrassment--that he'd probably been hurt. He'd been--not exactly nice, but kind to Draco when nobody else could stand him. But now that he was popular again...

He knocked on the door.

Snape jerked it open. "Oh. It's you," he said nastily.

"Uh, yeah. Can I come in?"

Snape nodded fractionally and stepped back to allow Draco to step inside. "You had better not be looking for hangover remedies."

"Um, no, I'm fine. Just visiting. Thanks for stopping by last night."

"I didn't realize you had company," he repeated.

"Wish I could have invited you in, but I don't think the other kids..."

"I know," he said curtly.

He wasn't making this easy. "What did you think of the game?" he tried.

"Very impressive," Snape said sarcastically. "If you don't mind," he sneered, "I'm going to the staffroom. Good day."

#

Severus stormed into the staffroom and dropped his books onto the table with a clatter.

McGonagall looked up at him in surprise. "Severus," she said reprovingly.

"Shut up."

He snared a cup of coffee and a muffin and started marking first year essays.

He scrawled a large X over a particularly egregious passage and wrote, "Bloatwort, you imbecile, not bloatweed."

It didn't make him feel any better.

"Is...something bothering you, Severus?" McGonagall frowned. "Er--more than usual?'

"No," he growled.

"Um." She quirked an eyebrow at him over her teacup.

"Malfoy had his Quidditch idiots over for a party last night. Making a racket until all hours." He shouldn't have said anything.

She looked quizzical. "Were they in your rooms?"

"Of course not. His."

"The walls down there are at least three feet thick."

Of course they were. "The doors aren't." He had her there, didn't he?

She gave him a strange look. "Did he do something to you?"

"Of course not." He couldn't stop himself. "Obnoxious little prick. I don't know why I--" He clamped his jaw shut. Not another word.

McGonagall was staring at him. "Severus--you two have been inseparable for six months."

"We have not." He shoved his chair back and started gathering his things. He'd lock himself in his office until his first lesson. They couldn't get to him there.

"Severus." She came around the table and reached toward him.

"Don't touch me!" He scrambled backward, fighting down panic.

"Severus--do you want me to get Albus?"

He shook his head, taking a deep breath. "No, thank you," he said with as much dignity as he could muster.

McGonagall was watching him with wariness and something that might have been pity.

"Just--leave me alone." Snatching his things as quickly as he could, he fled for the safety of his office.

In his first class, he made two first-years cry and took ten points from each of their houses for making him sick to his stomach. He had a free period after that, and sat in his office marking papers. He'd actually already finished them, but he'd decided he hadn't been vituperative enough, so he was doing them again.

"Your analysis is," he wrote, and paused to think of a fresh synonym for stupid. "Asinine," he decided.

Someone knocked on his door.

Malfoy.

"Go away," he snarled. The door was locked and warded; he wouldn't be able to let himself in.

But the door opened as though it hadn't even been locked, and Dumbledore stepped in.

He should have shoved the bookcase up against it.

"What do you want?" he asked crossly.

"Minerva said you were...upset."

"I am not upset," he lied.

But he couldn't lie to Dumbledore, and the Headmaster apparently decided to pretend he hadn't. "What's the matter?" he asked, sitting down.

He lied again. "Nothing."

"Severus..." Dumbledore regarded him steadily.

"Just leave me alone," he said as civilly as he could manage. "Please."

Dumbledore seemed to consider the suggestion. "No," he decided, "I don't think that's a good idea."

Fine, Severus decided. He would just ignore him. With trembling fingers, he altered his comment on the paper he was marking. "As asinine as it is puerile," he wrote. That was better.

Dumbledore picked up the essay after he'd put it aside. "Has Miss Groutwort done something to offend you?"

"She's a moronic little twit." Damn. He had been planning to ignore him. Wasn't doing a very good job of it, was he?

"I see." Dumbledore hesitated just long enough for Severus to think he was going to let the matter drop, and then said, "And Draco?"

"He gets on my nerves."

"Goodness," Dumbledore said. "If that's the worst you can come up with, you must be very fond of him."

Severus wanted to deny it, but restrained himself to a very insincere, "I may not hate him as much as some of the others."

"I see."

Dumbledore waited expectantly. Giving him enough rope to hang himself.

Severus saw straight through his tactics. He just wouldn't say anything.

Two could play at that game. He'd wait until Dumbledore had to say something to break the silence.

The Headmaster settled back in his chair, regarding him with twinkling blue eyes, apparently comfortable with the long silence.

The siege had lasted ten minutes when the door opened again and Malfoy stepped in. "Professor, are you--" He saw Dumbledore. "Uh, sorry."

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" he demanded. "Do you barge uninvited into all your teachers' offices?"

"No, but you usually lock it if you don't want company." Draco tossed his head.

Arrogant little git. "Well I don't. Want. Company."

Draco looked over at Dumbledore. Seeming satisfied with what he saw there, he leaned against the wall as if he was planning to stay for a while.

They were ganging up on him.

"If you boys have had a falling out," Dumbledore began.

"We haven't," Draco volunteered, "But the Professor's in a bit of a snit."

He was not in a snit. He was...

He wasn't sure what he was.

"Interesting. Have you any idea why?" Dumbledore asked Draco.

"I have some guesses."

"Hm. What are they?"

"Shut up! Both of you!" Severus was on his feet, leaning over the desk toward them.

Draco took on a serious expression. "I don't think he wants to talk about it," he mumbled.

"Well spotted," Severus sneered.

"Nevertheless," Dumbledore said mildly.

"Well," Draco sighed. "I--"

Severus thought he was about to tell all, but then he seemed to change him mind. Instead, Draco turned to him and said, "They're my friends. You're my family. You have nothing to worry about, so stop being such a git." He rocked back on his heels, looking satisfied with himself.

Severus blinked. "Very well," he said slowly.

"You have to say more. I can't tell if you're still being a git or not."

"I'm not." Draco was right, of course. It was stupid on any number of levels for him to be jealous of Draco's friends. He'd already known that.

"But, see, if you were still doing it, you'd deny it."

"I was being a git. I've stopped," he said obediently.

"Good." Draco straightened up off the wall. "I really should get back to Transfig. McGonagall sent me out to come down here and put your head back on straight."

Good God.

"She didn't put it exactly that way. But...anyway, I'll see you this evening."

He nodded.

"Excellent." Draco patted him on the shoulder and left.

Dumbledore stayed. "Would you like to tell me what happened?"

Of course he didn't. "It's nothing important." It really wasn't. "He was right, I was being stupid."

Albus regarded him steadily.

Severus sighed. "I went to see him last night, figuring now that the match was over he'd have more...free time. He was having a victory party. It upset me."

"I see. And you feel better now?"

He squirmed inwardly. "Yes."

"You don't have much practice having ordinary human feelings," he observed.

"No." He couldn't afford feelings, not in his line of work.

"Don't give me that. One day this war will be over, and you'll have no choice but to rejoin the human race."

Sometimes he wondered why he bothered speaking at all when Dumbledore was in the room. " 'The fellowship of men that perish,'" he quoted. "I'm not sure I can."

"I'm afraid you already have."

"My work's more important."

Dumbledore tipped his head. "Your work is important," he acknowledged. "We would all be in much more danger without you."

"I know." Dumbledore could never bring himself to ask him to make the sacrifices he did.

He had to make them unasked.