Snakes and Lions

Repercussions

Harry spent most of lunch worrying about Draco. The Slytherin obviously felt betrayed by Harry's actions. Would he go join the Death Eaters, after all, just out of spite? Should Harry tell him exactly what he had done? Should he tell Hermione what she had missed, so she could talk to him? The mere thought made him cringe.

To his surprise, Draco slipped in the seat next to his in Transfiguration. McGonagall's face soured as she saw them, and Harry expected Draco to be told to move to the defacto Slytherin side of the room, but her lips stayed closed in a thin grimace of disapproval. Draco took out his notebook.

"I'm sorry I yelled," he whispered. "Tell me about it in April."

"I'm sorry, too. I get too reckless, sometimes."

Draco's eyes opened. "Really?" he choked.

"Are we ready to start?" Professor McGonagall said crisply, silencing their conversation and a number of others. "I realize this is the last class before the holidays, and a lecture is of little interest at the time. To try to make this class a bit more engaging, I would like to have a full class discussion. Please move your desks to the wall -- without injuring your classmates, Mr. Zabini -- and arrange the benches in a circle."

When they were all thus arranged, McGonagall proceeded to launch a discussion of theory that relied entirely on material in the optional readings. Two thirds of the class was utterly lost, while the remaining third, including, to Harry's pleasure, himself, talked over each other in the hurry to get out pet theories before anyone else stated them. When the discussion worked back to material from a month earlier, Draco jumped in, sending a nervous smile at Harry as he talked about the individuality of elemental evocative correspondence. Professor McGonagall looked at him as if he had grown a second head, then, with a tight smile, asked him to explain the theory, which Draco did quite admirably, then to demonstrate it with two ways of transfiguring a dove into a toy boat, which he did with more effort.

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said. "Five points to Slytherin for your explanation, and five apiece for each of the transfiguration paths." She smiled around at the class. "I see this format causes some changes in class participation. Perhaps we shall make these discussions a regular feature."

A smart double knock sounded at the door. Professor McGonagall pointed her wand, and the door swung open. A second-year Slytherin stepped over the threshold and stood still.

"Yes, Bennegan?"

"Professor Snape sent me with a message for Draco Malfoy, sir."

"Deliver it quickly, then."

The boy came over. Leaning between Draco and Harry, he whispered to Draco. "Snape wants you in his office half-an-hour after the end of classes. He sounded annoyed."

"Like that tells me anything," Draco snorted, but Harry could see he was worried. "All right. Message received. Now scram."

After class, Harry raced up to Gryffindor tower and got his cloak. He needed to know what Draco and Snape said to each other. It will be all lies, of course, he thought, but I need to know which ones.

He lingered, invisible, by Snape's door, waiting for Draco to arrive. Snape arrived first, and Harry followed him inside. Snape procured a letter from his files and laid it out on his desk. He sat there, rubbing his temples and occasionally muttering things like "idiot brat". Two minutes before the appointed time, a knock sounded at the door.

"Enter," Snape said commandingly.

Draco entered. He looked as haughty as anyone in a school robe could. "You wished to see me, Professor?"

"Sit down," Snape growled. Back straight, Draco sat. "Professor Horsyr came to talk to me after lunch," Snape said. "She informs me that you cuddled one of her quiris."

Draco nodded slightly. "I don't expect I'll get another chance, sir," he said coolly.

"You should not have the chance now!" Professor Snape exploded, jumping to his feet and leaning over his desk. "What are you playing at, you foolish boy? I know the list your father sent you! You have assured him -- and me -- that you are practicing. Clearly, you are not!"

"I know all those spells."

Snape's eyes narrowed. His lip curled up, baring stained teeth. "You better know them well, boy. Lucius is not forgiving of imperfection."

"I'll do fine."

"You'll get yourself killed!" Snape sat back and rubbed at his temples again. "Draco, I don't know whether you're making some idiot attempt to impress Potter, or just being arrogant, but this is foolish. Your father will not accept excuses. For your own protection, you need to do all those curses well, and if you haven't done any of them in over six weeks, you will make a mistake."

Draco's shoulders curled in. "I have been reviewing the theory of each, sir," he said. "I've studied every one, just not ... the practical ..."

"Practice," Snape completed, succinctly.

"Yes."

"Why, Draco? I've never seen you be reluctant, and while you are occasionally lazy, this is beyond casual idleness."

Draco swallowed. Suddenly, he blurted out:

"Harry told me about the quiris, sir."

Harry expected Snape to look enraged, but he just looked like he wanted a headache draught. "Mr. Malfoy, if you think for an instant that I believe Harry Potter would provide you with politically sensitive information, just because he finds you fun, you are sadly mistaken."

"He did."

"He would not! No more than he would study Dark Arts with you."

"No, he does that with you, doesn't he?"

Snape's mouth fell open.

"He tells me everything," Draco purred. He stopped, shuddering. "No, that's not true. But I can drag quite a lot out of him."

"Not about quiris," Snape said coldly. "I have personally discussed this with Mr. Potter, and I do not believe he would go back on his word."

Draco twisted in his chair, looking down. "Not usually," he said uneasily.

"But?" Snape prompted.

"He told me ... when he saw the list."

"List?"

"I showed him the letter."

"You what?!"

"He saw me get it, and wanted to know what my father had said."

"You utter, immature, self-centered, idiotic, little brat!" Snape was half-way across the desk, again, practically spitting in Draco's face. Harry didn't think he had seen Snape so angry since Sirius's escape. "How do you expect --" With a soundless snarl, the Potions Master forced himself back. He steepled his hands before him, and the rage on his face drained to scorn.

"Draco Alphaeus Zenodore Emmerich Archelaus Malfoy," he said, spitting out each word. Harry had to bite his tongue not to laugh, not just at the name, but at the expression of horror on Draco's face as the whole thing was pronounced. "After dinner, you will come to my quarters. There, we will review each item on your list. This is for your own welfare, and I expect you to be properly grateful for my guidance. Is that clear?"

Draco Alphaeus-whatever Malfoy looked straight into Snape's eyes. "Perfectly, sir," he said tonelessly.

"Good. Now get out of my sight." Snape pointed his wand at the door and whispered an opening charm. The door swung ajar. Harry slipped out several steps before Malfoy, then went flat against the wall.

"Frigging evil old vulture," Draco muttered, as he passed. He headed up the stairs. Harry followed at a distance, planning to continue on to Gryffindor tower and dump the cloak. His plans changed when Draco went, not outside or to the library, but up to the second floor, then down the corridor that lead past the Transfiguration classroom, and to Dumbledore's office. At a discrete distance, perhaps more discreet than necessary, considering the forcefulness of Draco's stride, Harry followed.

He watched from the corner as Draco gave the password to the stone gargoyle, then disappeared from view. Harry walked slowly down to the gargoyle to give Draco time to get inside the office. He was fairly sure Dumbledore could see through invisibility cloaks, so he had no desire to be right behind Malfoy in a cloak he was no longer supposed to possess. After that, he had to wait longer to let an early dinner crowd pass in the hallway. When no one was in sight, Harry spoke to the gargoyle.

"Tease toffees," he said. He wondered if it was significant that his new favorite sweet was Dumbledore's current password. The gargoyle opened, and Harry walked onto the stone stairs. The gargoyle slid shut, and the stairs lifted Harry in a dizzying spiral to the landing outside Dumbledore's office door.

The door was shut, and on the other side, Draco was in a full-volume rant.

"...a Dark wizard on staff, but how can you put him in charge of a house? You might as well just announce you give up on all Slytherins as soon as we are sorted. There are perfectly decent kids in my house, as good as some of your Gryffindors, but you don't care! You don't care what we do, or might have done, and you don't care what happens to us, you just want well-trained foxes for your Gryffindor hounds!"

There was a long period of silence, that Harry assumed indicated shock. Certainly, in Dumbledore's shoes, he would not know how to respond to someone screaming such a thing at him.

"Draco," Dumbledore said soothingly, "I assure you I have known Severus Snape for longer than you have been alive --"

"Well I know him better!" Draco shouted. "I've seen him with Father, and I've been under his control for nearly six years. Do you know who he's after now? Your precious Harry. They told me our practice ended at nine-thirty and Hermione it ended at ten. What do you suppose he's been doing with that half an hour?" Draco's voice lightened and took on a silky tone that reminded Harry uncomfortably of Lucius. "It could just be Fucking, Level 1, but I can't see that of Harry."

Another, shorter silence.

"Draco," Dumbledore said firmly, "do you have any substantial accusations to make against your Head of House? I am not interested in innuendo."

There was a long silence. Harry could imagine Draco weighing and discarding things he might say.

"No," Draco said finally, almost too quietly for Harry to hear.

"Then we have no basis for this conversation. Rest assured, I will repeat none of this to Professor Snape, and I am willing to listen to anything -- of substance -- that you may report in the future."

"Thank you, sir," said Draco tonelessly.

"Draco ... is there anything you wish to tell me? About anything?"

Harry got back on the stairs, and hurried out to the corridor. He was quite sure Draco would say no.

However, when Harry reached the stairs, Draco still had not emerged. Harry ended up ducking into an alcove to remove and stash his cloak. Still no Draco. He waited ten minutes, then headed down to the Great Hall. Draco entered soon after Harry sat down. His demeanor was enough to keep even Pansy at bay, and Crabbe and Goyle silent. He took food, but ate almost none of it.

Harry found himself doing much the same. At the end of dinner, his potatoes were smeared over most of his plate, his fish shredded, and his peas an even green mush, but the volume of food was much as it had been. Hermione shot him sympathetic looks. When the puddings were served and Harry likewise flattened and ignored them, she reached over and clasped his hand. Harry squeezed it in return.

Ron cleared his throat. "Hermione?"

"Forget it," Harry said, flatly. "I'm leaving, see?" He got up and walked away. Behind him, he could hear Hermione and Ron speaking angrily to each other. He hoped he hadn't caused Hermione too much trouble.

Draco met him at the door.

"Tonight," he said.

"Thank you." As the words came out, Harry realized what an odd response it was. He hoped his desperate relief was not as apparent to Draco as it sounded to him.

"Late though. Let's meet down there, at midnight."

"Midnight?" Belatedly, Harry realized that Draco had to run through twenty Dark curses with Snape.

"I can sleep on the train. You can sleep all week if you like."

"All right, then. Midnight."

Draco nodded smartly, then headed down to the dungeons. Harry climbed up to the tower.