Where Angels Fear

Where Angels Fear

Chapter 5

Playing Happy Families

Draco didn't sleep through the night, though he was so exhausted his first few nightmares didn't wake him. He was having a variety of them now, instead of the same old one about Snape all the time, which all in all he thought was probably a good thing. Unfortunately, some of the new ones were just as bad. In the end, it was a particularly harrowing item, in which Voldemort and Cornelius Fudge chased him through the Manor with flaming swords, that woke him. He managed a sort of strangled gasp instead of actual screaming, but he still woke the Professor, who opened one eye to glare at him, then patted him and mumbled something incomprehensible.

"I'm okay, go back to sleep," he whispered.

Instead of taking his own advice, Draco waited until he was sure Snape had gone back to sleep, then crept out of the room as quietly as he could. It would take him hours to get back to sleep, and it was already starting to get light out, so he supposed there wasn't much point. And there were only two bathrooms--on the second floor, where everybody else slept--so he might as well take advantage of being up at this unreasonable hour to have a decent bath without having to queue up with a lot of Weasleys.

By the time he'd finished, enough light was coming in their tiny window to read by. He had just settled down, leaning against the wall with the quilt around his shoulders and his cars book open on his knees, when Snape said, "Where are you sneaking off to, then?"

Draco startled, then looked over at the Professor. He still had his eyes shut, and looked asleep. But evidently he wasn't. "Uh...having a bath."

"That's what I figured. I'd have been worried if I hadn't heard you leave."

"Sorry." But what could happen to him in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix?

"It's all right. Don't imagine Potter could do much to you that I can't fix."

"I'm sure he's still asleep."

Snape muttered something about idiots and the sleep of the just.

"I'll just read, then, until you're ready to get up."

Snape muttered something and turned over.

It was a bit odd, sharing a room with the Professor, Draco thought. They'd both spent a lot of time sitting up by one another's bedsides, but that wasn't quite the same thing. It was a little embarrassing, watching somebody sleep.

So he tried to keep his attention on his book. He was re-reading the chapter on automatic and manual transmissions when a far-off voice bellowed, "Up! Up! I haven't made a hot breakfast so you can lie abed while it gets cold. Up!"

The Professor sat up. "Molly Weasley," he groaned. "Could give a fishwife lessons." He reached for his robes. "Comes of having too many children, I expect. Let that be a lesson to you."

They went downstairs. On the second floor, Weasleys were running back and forth yelling at each other. Draco and Snape continued down to the kitchen, where Tonks--Draco's cousin, by way of the sister his Mother didn't talk about--was turning over sausages in a pan. Draco wondered why she insisted on being known by her muggle father's name, when she had a perfectly good wizarding given name like Nymphadora. "Morning, Draco, Severus," she said cheerfully.

Draco glanced up at the Professor, who seemed to be turning over the remark, searching for a veiled insult. "Good morning," Draco answered for both of them.

"Molly's getting the lads up," Tonks continued. "Maybe you could check on the toast. I always seem to drop it in the fire, so I've been avoiding it."

A dozen toasting forks were hovering over the flames in the great fireplace, rotating slowly. Draco checked them one by one, rearranging them so the finished pieces were off to the side to stay warm, and the rare-done ones were closer to the fire.

"Professor Snape, maybe you can take care of the coffee. Molly's percolator is--" Tonks threw up hands, and the sausage that happened to be on the end of her fork sailed across the room. Tonks looked after it sadly. "Oh well, the cat will get it, I suppose."

Snape said something that might have been, "Lupin." Draco decided not to ask for clarification.

Molly Weasley bustled into the room, her voice preceding her. "Tonks, thank you, I hope you haven't--"

"Everything's fine, Molly," she said, winking at Draco, who knew enough not to mention the flying sausage.

Mrs. Weasley's eye fell on him. "Draco." Her mouth narrowed. "I'll take care of that. Go on, sit down."

The rest of the household trooped down. "Harry, pour the juice, please, dear. Bill, get the plates. Oh dear, Arthur, you have to be at work in twenty minutes. Here, have some toast, the eggs will be ready in a moment."

There was a bit of chatter over the meal about who would be doing what that day, but no one spoke to Draco or Professor Snape, except Mrs. Weasley, who said, "I trust you slept well, Professor. Draco."

Snape said icily, "Quite well, thank you."

"Yes, thanks," Draco added.

Breakfast was over with more quickly than dinner had been, which was something to be said for it. Those who had business outside of the house left all at once, and then it was only Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, and Potter, besides himself and Snape. Mrs. Weasley started washing the dishes while "Harry, dear," dried.

"Anything I can do to help, Molly?" Lupin asked.

"Perhaps you'll have a look at that vanishing cupboard in the study. Don't want anyone stumbling into it, do we?"

"Suppose not. Nearly got the old place under control, haven't we?" Lupin observed.

"Yes, it's nearly fit to live in now," Mrs. Weasley agreed.

Parts of it, anyway, Draco thought. Snape nudged him and mouthed, "Don't. Say. It."

He was saved from deciding whether to obey or not when something tapped on the kitchen window.

"That's not Hedwig," Potter observed.

"It's Oberon," Draco said, getting up. He fumbled with the catch on the window. It wouldn't open far enough to let the eagle-owl in, but he managed to get the letters from his leg. "Where's your owlery?" he asked nobody in particular.

"Buckbeak's living in there, I'm afraid," Lupin said. "You'll have to keep your owl in your room."

"I can't do that," Draco protested. "He'll eat Snuffy."

Potter choked back laughter.

"He's eaten cats, and Snuffy's smaller than a cat." And if he left Oberon in hi cage, the owl would scream constantly.

He looked over at Snape, who shrugged. Draco shoved at the part of Oberon he could reach. "Get out, you stupid bird. Go sleep in a tree or something." He managed to shut the window and looked at the letters. "One for you, Professor, from Dumbledore, it looks like." He passed it over. The other letter was from Dobby. He scanned it. "Sully's all right. They're letting her go this afternoon, but she ought to be where someone can keep an eye on her. Headmaster suggested she and Dobby stay here for a few days." He looked up. "Perhaps you can do with the help, Mrs. Weasley. Only I don't think there's room for two people, two house-elves, a teapot and an owl in our room." Not even if they all slept standing up.

"Don't be foolish. They can sleep in the pantry."

"All right, then." Draco borrowed a quill from Snape and wrote an answer on the bottom of Dobby's note. "What's yours say?" He looked over Snape's shoulder at it.

The Professor glared at him and covered his letter with his arm. "It's addressed to me, isn't it?"

Draco shrugged.

"He has some ideas on how I can occupy myself while we're stuck here," Snape relented. "Starting with checking Black's library for dangerous Dark books." Apparently calling it "Black's library" was a pill slightly less bitter than the more accurate "Potter's library."

"Well, that'll be fun," Draco said cheerfully. "Wonder if he has the one that strikes you blind if you look at page 437. I keep meaning to clip that page shut on our copy." He thought it might cheer the Professor up to be reminded that they had a library that almost had to be better than Potter's, even if they couldn't get at it right now.

"Why don't you throw it out, then?" Potter asked. "If it's that dangerous."

Snape and Draco looked at each other. "It's a very useful book," Draco answered patiently. He turned back to Snape. "Any other news?" Maybe about how long they'd have to stay here?

"No." Snape folded the letter and put it in his pocket. "Best send your reply off, and we'll go to the library. You can start thinking about your seventh-year project."

Oberon hadn't buggered off to sleep in a tree. He was still on the windowsill, screeching. "Got a letter for you here, old boy," Draco said cautiously as he opened the window. The eagle-owl shrieked and slashed out with one foot. Draco managed to avoid the talons only to have his hand caught in Oberon's viselike beak. He screamed. "Ow! Bugger!"

Snape strode over and clubbed the owl with a fist wrapped in the extra material of his robes. "Stupid sod. Take that--" He shoved the letter at him "--and deliver it right away, or I'll have your feathery carcass for a throw pillow." He slammed the window shut and took Draco's hand. "Are you all right, then?"

"I think so." He flexed his fingers. Everything seemed to be in working order. "Yeah, nothing's broken. Just a flesh wound."

"We'll put some salve on it. Here, stick it under the tap first. Germy buggers, owls. I can't imagine why Lucius bought you that thing."

"I can," Draco said grimly, trying to keep from getting any blood on the clean dishes in the sink. "It was very expensive."

"It's no wonder your owl's vicious, the way you treat him," Potter butted in.

Draco looked over his shoulder at him. "I spent the better part of a year trying to make friends with Oberon," he said, then held up his bloody hand. "None of these are my original fingers." Snape took his hand and wrapped it in a handkerchief.

"As soon as the current crisis is past, we're getting you a different owl," he said. "Something in a nice tame barn owl, perhaps."

"Okay. Maybe Hagrid will take Oberon. He likes vicious creatures." He didn't much like the idea of putting Oberon down, even if he was vicious, and he didn't think anyone but a nutter like Hagrid would want him.

"We can certainly ask," the Professor said politely.

#

After a detour to fetch ointment for Draco's hand, they went to the library. "Not as nice as ours," Draco observed, sounding relieved.

"No," Severus agreed. It didn't have half so many books as the Malfoy library did, and the architecture wasn't very impressive, either. "Don't go poking around until I've had a chance to look things over. There might be some dangerous books here that you wouldn't recognize on sight."

Draco nodded and sat down at a table with the books he'd brought with him.

Looking around, Snape devised a plan of attack. There were a couple of glass-fronted cases with locks--he'd put the Dark stuff in there. Anything that was dangerous to look at, let alone use, he'd pack up for disposal. Mindful that this was Potter's library, he restrained his natural, helpful impulse to organize the books by subject and author, and instead only sorted them into Dark, dangerous, and benign.

"I keep expecting Black to pop out of somewhere," he said after a while.

"Potter's godfather, you mean?" Draco said.

"Yes. We were at school together. He was one of Potter's gang," Severus reminded him.

"Oh, right."

"He was a menace."

"Worse than Potter?" Draco wanted to know.

"Much."

"I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, sending us here," Draco observed. "I mean, I know what he was thinking, but..."

"Yes, I know." Severus put a cursed grimoire in the "dangerous" pile.

"I wonder what she thought I was going to do to that toast," Draco said meditatively.

"I can't imagine. I don't even know any good toast-related curses." Draco smiled wanly, and he pressed on. "All right, there's the one that makes it always fall butter-side down, but that's it, really."

"I don't know that one."

"It's a bit useless. I wouldn't offer to help any more, in your place. If that's how they're going to be about it.'

"I guess I won't," Draco said glumly.

"Don't let them get to you." Rotten advice, given on spinal reflex.

"I'm not," Draco lied.

#

" 'Because it was very expensive!' Honestly. His owl just savaged him and he's bragging about how much it cost."

Molly paused in counting stitches. "I'm not sure he was bragging, dear."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Arthur and I weren't always able to give our boys everything they ought to have had, but I thank my lucky stars we were able to give them advantages that boy never had." Of course, Harry hadn't had material advantages or a decent family life, but she and Arthur had tried to treat him like one of the family ever since he and Ron started school.

"That doesn't excuse him being a--" Harry edited himself "--being rude."

"Of course not, dear." She cast off a stitch. "It doesn't excuse it, just explains it." Although he hadn't exactly been rude. He'd insisted that he was fine, even though he was clearly miserable. And he must have heard somewhere that offering to help was the right thing to do when visiting a house without servants--although she'd be damned if she's take him up on the offer and give him that much more to sneer about.

She paused to wonder if her Ron was behaving in a way that would show the Grangers he'd been brought up properly, even if their ways were different.

Harry continued, "Hermione says he's changed, he isn't so bad now, but I don't know. And even if he has, that doesn't mean we have to be friends with him."

"No, you don't," Molly agreed. But he was a child--and an orphan, for all intents and purposes--staying in her house. She had to try to make him feel welcome, even though he--to be honest about it--wasn't.

#

Severus looked over Draco's shoulder. He was looking at pictures of cars again. "You can't do your seventh-year project in a subject you've never taken," he pointed out.

Draco startled. "Oh. Muggle studies, you mean?"

"Yes." If Draco had taken muggle studies, he could probably pass off buying and learning to drive a car as a project. A reason to be glad he hadn't taken it, Severus decided.

"I wasn't thinking of that," Draco admitted. "Too bad."

"Here," Severus said, depositing a book in front of him. "If you aren't doing your homework, you can pick out an owl." He had found the Owl Guide stuck in between an 18^th century treatise on love philters and a copy of the Arabian Nights printed on poisoned paper.

Draco moved his car books aside and opened it. "Thanks."

Severus returned to his sorting while Draco looked at the owl book. "I like the black-and-white," Draco said after a while. "He looks like he has a striped waistcoat on."

Snape glanced at the picture. "They're very rare," he pointed out.

Draco shrugged and kept looking. "I don't care for barn owls. They look witless."

"The point is to find you an owl that won't injure you, not one even more impressive than your old one."

"Who says we can't do both?" Draco asked. "Sooty owl--now there's an attractive bird."

"Australian," Severus noted. "You might wish to consult the chapter on native species."

Grumbling, Draco did so. He was just saying, "I suppose a Scops would be all right--" When Molly Weasley came in.

Checking up on them, Snape supposed. "Molly," he greeted her.

"Good morning, Severus," she answered stiffly. "I've just heard from Ginny. Her friend's asked her to stay another week."

He and Draco looked at each other. Was there any particular reason they ought to care? "How nice for her," Draco said reasonably.

"Since Herminone's away as well, one of you might as well stay in the girls' room. I've made it up for you."

Snape nodded. "Thank you," he said grudgingly.

"Yes, well. We'll have to think of something else if you're still here when Ginny comes back."

"Indeed," he said levelly, waiting to see if she was going to say anything really insulting.

"Well. We'll have sandwiches and salad at twelve thirty, if you'd care to join us." Announcement made, she sailed out.

" 'If you'd care to join us,'" Draco muttered. "No, thanks just the same, we'd rather sit up here, and if we get hungry we'll chew on our own arms, thanks."

"Oh, hush."

Draco shrugged. "Decent of her, I suppose, to give us Ginny and Granger's room," he said fairly.

Severus shrugged and decided not to disabuse him of that notion. "You can have it. Dollies and soft toys make me feel sick."

"Ginny might be too old for dolls, and I know Granger is." Draco sat back, looking worried. "I thought we might share it. If it's properly big enough for two."

"We'll see." Mrs. Weasley wouldn't care much for that. But he wasn't sure he minded what she thought.

"Yeah." Draco looked down. "Yeah, you're right, we're not in any actual danger here, so we might as well split up."

Yes, it just felt an awful lot like they were. "We can decide later."

"Okay." Draco started making a list of owl types he considered acceptable.

Severus found a copy of Ironwood's Tretise on Poysons ynd Theyre Propre Antydotes and started a fourth pile of books that he wanted to read. He was just starting to think they might tolerably pass their exile in the library, if people would only leave them alone, when Potter blundered in.

"Malfoy."

"Potter." Draco looked over at Snape. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to practice blocking curses," Potter said, "And I expect you know loads, so...."

Draco grinned. "You want me to supply the curses? Well....any curses I want?"

"Within reason," Potter agreed grudgingly.

"And it's nobody's fault but your own if you don't manage to block them," Draco continued shrewdly, "And you aren't going to go running to Lupin or Weasley's mother and say I tricked you."

Snape was once again impressed with Draco's grasp of certain realities.

"Right, right," Potter agreed. "Will you do it, or what?"

"All right," Draco said magnanimously. "If you like." He drew his wand. "Let's start with--"

"Not here. What, do you think I want Snape watching you curse me?"

"I don't see why not."

"Come on. We'll use the drawing room."

Draco looked back over his shoulder at Snape. "I'll tell you all about it later."

"Have fun."

He hoped Potter didn't get Draco into trouble. If Potter decided to say "What? I never asked him to curse me!" no one would believe either him or Draco when they said otherwise.

Resolutely, he went back to shaking Black's books to see if any curses fell out. Metaphorically speaking. After the number of interruptions they'd had, he was unsurprised when the werewolf strolled in, holding a biscuit in one paw and a mug in the other. "Oh, hullo, Severus," he said cheerfully.

Snape just nodded.

"Where's Draco?" Lupin continued, looking around.

"Helping Potter with his homework," Snape spat. "We're not joined at the hip, you know."

"Could have fooled me," Lupin said cheerfully, sitting down and reaching toward the "Dangerous" pile.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you." He wasn't sure why he bothered. Lupin was supposed to be the Defense expert, wasn't he?

Lupin paused in mid-reach. "Oh." He drew his hand back. "Find anything interesting?"

Snape, after lengthy deliberation, took the question at face value. "A very early Necronomicon." e tilted his head toward the locking bookcase.

"I suppose I meant interesting-dangerous, not interesting-interesting," Lupin said, but he went and got it anyway. "It has the original woodcuts," he observed. "This is quite rare. Sirius never mentioned he had it."

It had been stuck between some gardening magazines and a book on diseases of the common ghoul, but Severus just said, "I wasn't sure he could read."

Lupin opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, "He didn't often choose to."

"I'm not sure that isn't worse." Black's anti-intellectual streak had been, perhaps, his most appalling quality. "He--"

"Do me a favor and don't start," Lupin said tiredly. "He was my friend, and he's dead."

Severus thought about that. "Fine. As long as I don't have to hear what a misunderstood saint he was."

"That sounds fair," Lupin said, "And very unlike you. Are you feeling all right?"

He decided not to dignify that with an answer. "Did you stop by for any particular reason?"

"I did, actually. I thought we should talk."

"Did you have a subject in mind?"

"Er...yes."

Lupin didn't say anything else. Severus allowed several long minutes to pass before asking, "Well?"

Lupin jumped. "What?"

"The subject that you wished to discuss?" It was bound to be something indescribably offensive.

"Oh, right. That. This is...difficult."

Snape just raised an eyebrow. He thought of Towrood asking, "Is this about sex, sir?" and suspected that he, like Towrood, would come to wish it had been.

"The thing is," Lupin continued, "We've...I've been talking to Harry...and it's not just Harry, but..."

"Could you possibly come to the point? Whatever you're planning to say has to be better than this mindless babbling."

"Right." Lupin squared his shoulders. "Are you all right, Severus?"

Snape stared at him. "Is that it? That's what you came here to ask?"

"Yes. I gather you've had a rough term, and...well, I just wondered."

"You and Potter have been sitting around discussing my...what? Mental health? Spiritual well-being?" The thought was almost intolerable. Whatever it was, it was none of their business.

"We weren't discussing it, exactly. He just...well, he mentioned some of what's been going on, with Draco and everything...."

"What did he tell you?" Snape demanded. Merlin only knew.

"Apparently you had some kind of a fight, about a teapot or something, and everyone in the school knew about it...everyone except me," he said with a little self-deprecating laugh that made Snape want to throttle him, "and...well...I just wondered if everything was...all right."

All right. What an idiotic phrase. Nothing was ever more than a little bit right at any given time, and often a lot less. "We made up. Everything's fine."

"I know you made up. I just thought...I mean, I wondered..."

"You can't possibly imagine--" There were a hundred things Lupin couldn't possibly imagine. "That even if there was anything wrong, --that I'd unburden myself to you. Of all people. So. You've made an effort, and I'd appreciate it if you'd go feel noble and put-upon somewhere else."

"It's not like that," Lupin protested.

"Yes, I know, you're absolutely sincere, et cetera, et cetera. Now, if you would please leave me alone."

"All right. I just...if you ever want to talk..."

If he ever wanted to talk, he knew where Dumbledore lived. Not to mention Draco. "Good-day, Lupin."

Lupin got up, and Snape was glad enough to see him leaving that, when the werewolf patted him on the shoulder, he let him leave with his hand still attached.

#

"Boys! Lunch is ready!" Mrs. Weasley was pounding up the stairs from the kitchen.

"Hurry! Fix it, before she--"

"I'm trying," Draco said, irritated. "Hold still!" Honestly, you would think Potter wanted Mrs. Weasley to come up and see that he, Draco, had given him, Potter, a trunk. He'd figured out that Potter, suspecting that Mrs. Weasley would not approve of his studying the practical aspects of Defense indoors, had decided she would best be protected from knowledge that would only upset her. "If you were any good at Defense--"

"We were taking a break!"

"There aren't any breaks in a real battle," Draco snapped back. "Aspectus restorium."

Potter's trunk shrank back into a normal nose. He felt at it. "I don't think Voldemort's going to try to turn me into an elephant, anyway."

"Stop saying the name. Anyway, the principle is the same no matter what kind of curse it is." He didn't want to admit that he didn't know many serious curses. The elephant thing was more of a jinx, actually.

They met up with Mrs. Weasley in the corridor. "We were just finishing up with the studying." Potter told her.

"Yes," Draco agreed. "We were having a very...educational time." Now he knew what Potter would have looked like had his mother weighed 10,000 pounds.

Mrs. Weasley looked at them suspiciously. Draco didn't think she'd been fooled.

When they reached the kitchen, Snape was leaning across the table, pointing a shaking finger at Lupin, and screaming, "Well I'd have thought you'd just go out in the garden and raise your leg!"

"Well I'd have thought you'd--Hello, Molly."

She nodded at them. "Gentlemen."

Draco turned to Potter. "It appears we've been remiss in setting a good example for the adults."

"Maybe you haven't. We don't know what Remus was about to say."

Draco rolled his eyes and took his seat beside Snape. "You OK?"

"Yes, thanks." The Professor didn't look OK. He looked rather drawn and shaky. He'd have to ask him about it later.

Mrs. Weasley put out the sandwiches. Draco took three, and a large helping of salad. Cursing Potter built up an appetite.

"Do you have any plans for this afternoon, Harry?" Lupin asked.

"Thought I'd visit Buckbeak. I think he's depressed. He doesn't understand why he can't go outside and fly."

Projecting much? Draco wondered.

"He can't, he'll be seen." Mrs. Weasley pointed out. "Don't you dare--"

"I know, I won't," Potter said defensively.

"Maybe Oberon can room with him," Draco suggested helpfully. "I bet they have loads in common."

"Oh, did you try and have your owl killed, too?" Potter wanted to know.

"All I ever said was that he was savage and didn't belong in a school. Having him executed was Father's doing."

He barely touched you! If you hadn't overreacted--"

"He bit straight through the tendon and it rolled up inside my arm like a window shade! Madame Pomfrey had to fish it out with a crochet hook. It was only luck that animal didn't kill me."

"I thought she only said you were lucky to have the use of your arm," Snape put in.

"It didn't look that serious," Potter muttered.

"Well, it was."

"I doubt it was a crochet hook," the Professor said meditatively.

Draco shrugged. "Well, it looked like one. But you're right, it was probably some special medical device." He shrugged again. "The scar's almost gone."

Potter, for a change, took responsibility for changing to a less incendiary subject. "By the way, Malfoy, Herminone wrote. She says, 'hi.'"

"You can tell her I say hi back, if you're writing to her."

"Okay," Potter said. "If I remember."

"You can tell her we all said hello," Lupin suggested.

"You can leave me out of it," Snape said. "If you don't mind."

Potter nodded. "Everyone except Snape says hello. Got it."

Snape said, "Are you finished, Draco?"

"What? Oh, yes." Getting up, he put half a sandwich in his pocket.

"Severus," Lupin said before they could escape, "Don't forget what I said."

"What? That I--"

"You know what I mean."

Snape swept out, and Draco followed in his wake. "What did he mean?" he asked as they went up the stairs.

"He invited me to have a serious talk about our feelings," the Professor said stiffly.

Draco was sorry he'd missed that. "Are you going to?"

"No."

Draco wasn't surprised. But he wondered if it would be such a bad idea if he did. Terrific as Snape was, Draco himself was happier having other friends too. And Lupin was about Snape's age.

Except Snape had mentioned once that Potter and his gang almost fed him to a werewolf--and it wasn't hard to guess who the werewolf had been.

"I'm sure it was some sort of trick, anyway," Snape went on, "Probably thinks it would amuse Potter if I spilled all my--secrets."

"Maybe." Draco sort of doubted it. That sounded like something a twelve-year-old would do, not an adult. But he didn't say so. "We're not going back to the library?" They had already passed the turning.

"Thought we'd check out your new room."

Despite its being called "The Girls' Room," the room was completely free of soft toys, ruffles, or anything pink. There were two iron-framed beds, a blue and green hooked rug, and a framed oil of a ship on storm-tossed seas. It was a bit nicer than their room upstairs, but still on the grim and Spartan side.

Draco opened the dresser drawers, checking if anything lacy and embarrassing had been left in them. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that nothing had been.

Snape pushed open one of the windows and sat on the sill, watching him. "Are you quite finished?"

"Er...yes."

"Good. Well, it looks fine. Go and get your things."

"What about you? There's two beds," he pointed out.

"Will you be all right down here by yourself?"

"Yes," Draco lied. He would be until he had his first nightmare, anyway. Maybe Mrs. Weasley would come running in to comfort him. He'd die of embarrassment right there on the spot. Or maybe no one would do anything.

He wasn't sure which would be worse.

Snape didn't say anything, just quirked an eyebrow at him, and they went upstairs to pack.

#

That evening after supper, there was an Order meeting. "Go on upstairs, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said. "You don't need to hear all this."

Potter started whining about being left out. Draco could see his point--he was as involved in Order business as anyone. But it had the feel of an old argument, and Draco wondered why he didn't change his tactics, since carrying on like a big baby clearly wasn't working.

Midway through the argument, Snape caught Draco's eye and jerked his head at the door. Draco got up and left without complaint. The Professor would tell him what happened, anyway.

Draco went up to their room and was unsurprised when, a moment later, Potter knocked and said, "Can I come in?"

Actually, he was a little surprised he had asked. "Yeah, if you want."

Potter let himself in and sat crosslegged on one of the beds.

"How much do you know about what's going on?" Draco asked.

"Not much," Potter said peevishly.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Why should I?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Because, if you tell me what you know, I'll tell you what I know."

Potter looked at him suspiciously. "You first."

Draco decided not to argue. "It's been quiet. Except for the attacks on the manor." He winced a little. "Which probably aren't related to anything else. Professor Snape's been doing Potions research and assisting the Aurors with profiles of known Death Eaters--he wouldn't be bothering with things like that if there was anything more urgent on. We've just been waiting for the other shoe to drop, really." He didn't say that the Professor was frustrated into incoherence by not knowing what was happening.

"That's about what I've heard." Potter sounded disappointed. "People are doing a lot of surveillance. Remus keeps saying, 'we just have to wait and see.' I have a feeling he's planning something big,"

It was obvious that he didn't mean Lupin. Draco nodded. "The Professor thinks that too."

Potter sighed. "Never would have thought I'd agree with him about anything."

Draco just shrugged.

Potter ended up staying in his room until the meeting was over. They speculated fruitlessly about what Voldemort might be up to for a while, then chatted about Quidditch and played a desultory game of Exploding Snap while Potter tried to find out what girls Draco was interested in.

They found out that the meeting was over when Snape came in their room. "I didn't realize you were entertaining," he said snidely.

"See you later, Potter," Draco said, feeling strangely guilty. Potter sloped off, and Draco asked, "What's the news?"

Snape settled down and poured himself a drink, apparently forgiving Draco for fraternizing with the enemy. "They've determined that Mr. Finkey was behind that note you got at the Ministry. You'll be glad to know that Miss Littlebourne wasn't involved."

"Yeah. I liked her."

"I know. But that's about all they have so far. The Ministry's still working him over. He knows all the tricks to resisting Veritaserum, so it's a matter of wearing him down. He's let slip that there's some sort of action against the Ministry planned, but not anything about the nature or timetable of it. And he might even be lying about that much." Snape brooded for a moment. "The Death Eaters have been meeting more often than usual over the last few days--it's been suggested that they're worried because we got Finkey. But that doesn't explain why the unusual activity started before we caught him. So in other words, sod-all as usual."

"The waiting is nerve-wracking," Draco observed, "But I think I prefer it to the alternative."

"I might too, except know the alternative is coming." Snape started moodily at the painting of the ship. Draco watched it too, until its repetitive bobbing on the waves made him start to feel nauseous.

"So can we go home? Since Finkey spilled his guts about us?"

"No," Snape said immediately.

"Why not? Is there something you're not telling me?" Draco asked.

The Professor looked away. "Yes. You don't want to know."

"I'm sure I don't. But I had probably better, anyway."

"Eh." Snape didn't disagree. "They found out why Finkey was after us."

"It wasn't the obvious?"

"Not exactly." He swallowed hard. "They were after me. The plan was to put me under the Imperius Curse and make me betray Dumbledore. He hasn't said exactly what I was supposed to have done under the curse. But the Dark Lord is still a bit...upset...about my turning coat, so he finds an appealing symmetry in making me betray my other master." He tossed back the last of his drink and winced. "I've always said his fondness for cheap theatrics is a weakness ripe for exploitation."

The Professor had been right--Draco didn't want to know. "Lucky thing they failed, then," Draco said lightly. Or meant to. It came out hollow.

"Yes," Snape agreed. "Oh, and it was him who killed Bulstrode, too. Ordered her killed, I mean."

"Bastard," Draco said. "He deserves what he's getting." He said it by way of convincing himself. He didn't like the sound of "wearing him down" until he couldn't resist veritaserum. He disliked even more the suspicion he had that the Professor knew exactly what that meant, and that he'd come by the knowledge the hard way.

"I'm inclined to agree with you. He'd have killed you, after all. Or made me do it."

"I bet Volde--You Know--Voldemort isn't too happy you didn't, before." Draco shuddered a little. "He may not have cared if I died or not before, but...."

"Yes. Cheap theatrics, like I said. I can see him making me kill you and then carry your broken body to Dumbledore and tell him--" He cut himself off. "I shouldn't say things like that. Give you nightmares."

"I shouldn't worry about it. There isn't much that doesn't give me nightmares." He was surprised Snape hadn't lost patience with him yet--waking him up every night like an infant.

"There is that." He stood. "Let's get some hot chocolate."

"Are you sure we're--" Allowed? He wanted to ask. Or maybe welcome?.

"I'd like to see them stop us."