Slytherins in Doubt

Chapter Three

When he awoke, the serpent was gone. He had half hoped that he had acquired a new pet. Unfortunately it seemed that even the creatures closest to his own personality would deny his company. And so the next month passed, as usual, except for the fact that there had been no summons. As much as Snape dreaded the call, a long reprieve nearly always meant that Voldemort was planning something. And it could always mean that he was suspected to be exactly what he was. The next summons could always be his last, and Snape was worried.

Apparently he wasn't the only one worried. The headmaster had spoken to them seriously at the last staff meeting, proposing special classes in combat magic for certain hand-picked students. As much as Snape agreed that the classes were necessary, he could not help but believe that they would come too late.

And what was worse, Dumbledore wanted him to team up with Professor Morrigan to teach the classes. Which, he believed, meant that he would end up being the one to carry the class alone. There was no way that a young girl barely out of University could have enough experience to teach such a class.

On Samhain afternoon, he sat reading a book, leaning back in the large leather chair that sat behind the desk in his private office. It was a book of poems by a muggle author named Byron whose heroes often reminded him of himself.

Or rather, he was attempting to read the book. He was interrupted by an all too familiar pain in his arm. He stood reluctantly and headed out of the castle. He met McGonagall on the way, and informed her, as discreetly as possible, of where he was going. By the sad smile and nod that she gave him, he knew that she understood and would inform the headmaster. He walked to just beyond the castle gates and apparated.

The usual group were there, gathered in a circle around the fire. Severus quickly glanced around, noting those that he could recognize even behind their masks. Lucius Malfoy was already standing before the fiend, looking rather battered. His white-blonde hair was matted with blood. Snape had to struggle to suppress a smile. At least this time, the punishment was being given to someone who deserved it.

"You have failed me, Lucius," Voldemort hissed. "Your ssson does not wish to join the fold. You should have found a way to convince him."

"I'm s-sorry, Master. I tried. I thought that he had learned everything. He certainly does profess hatred of muggles, and his rivalry with the Potter boy..."

"Excuses do not work, Lucius," Voldemort smiled. "Your boy is too proud. He does not know his place."

"I tried, I tried to show him, to force him. I tried bribery. I tried torture." Lucius was sniveling.

Hearing this, Snape's trademark frown grew.

"Bring him to me."

"Yes, of course, Master. When he is out of school for Yule. I will bring him." Lucius kneeled, kissing Voldemort's robe. Voldemort dismissed him with a wave of his hand and turned around.

"Severusss, so glad you could make it."

Snape made a short bow.

"I need you to make some more potions. I need enough to last another six months. Then, I should need them no longer."

Snape nodded, silently praying that this would be the only thing required of him. He was really not in the mood for another round of torture.

"Good. And what news do you have for me this time?"

"Dumbledore has hired a new Defense against the Dark Arts professor. I have no doubt that she will be as much a failure as the others." That, at least, was no lie. "I have found a way to incapacitate the Potter boy at graduation."

"Yesss, and that will be?" Voldemort was licking his lips in anticipation. Snape bit back his revulsion at the creature's inhuman face.

"A Quidditch accident. The last match of the season. The boy is known for his recklessness. It will be no surprise to anyone if he should fall."

Voldemort was pleased, fortunately. For once, Snape would be allowed to leave relatively unharmed. Voldemort quickly passed on to the next victim for the night.

************

Draco awoke with a start, the nightmare already fading from his mind. He was covered in a cold sweat, his throat raw from screaming. He sat up and buried his face in his hands.

It was a blessing for him to have his own room, but not for the reasons that others would have suspected. The screams would not be heard. He had not been surprised at receiving the honour of Head Boy. After all, only the Granger girl was able to surpass his grades. Because of that, he held her in a sort of grudging respect, despite all of the insults that he had thrown her way. It was not something that he would easily admit, but it was there.

The nightmares were a nightly occurrence. Afterwards, he was never able to get back to sleep. Usually, he simply lay in bed, attempting to forget the memories that triggered such dreams. He knew that he could easily brew some dreamless sleep, for Potions were where he truly excelled. He had, after all, brewed enough healing potions over the last few weeks. He even suspected that Snape had given that class specifically for that reason. But, he would not do the same just for a night of sleep. He had grown accustomed to the night terrors, and even had learned to enjoy the time after he inevitably woke up. Those few quiet hours of the morning were the only moments when he could be himself. He did not have to pretend to be everything that he had once so desperately wanted to be. He wondered what had happened to the boy who had believed it such an honour to become a Death Eater. To follow in his father's footsteps. The father who had tortured him, and enjoyed it.

That night, looking into the mirror, he realized that the boy had been replaced by the man who knew the truth. The steel grey eyes that looked back at him were no longer those of a child.

**********

"There should be carefully selected students from every house," Albus looked around the room, stopping for a minute to look meaningfully at Minerva McGonagall. Any arguments she had intended were immediately stifled. The monthly staff meeting had once again come down to this.

"Very well," she agreed, albeit hesitantly, "You already know of those from my house that will be in the classes."

The headmaster nodded. "Yes, yes. But I would like to add Mr. Finnigan to that list. If he can tear himself away from his social life, he could be a strong member of the team."

Snape snorted. "That's a big if, Albus. And I have strong objections to Weasley's participation."

"But surely even you can understand the need, Severus!" McGonagall argued, indignant.

"You didn't let me finish," Snape continued. "While I do not believe that the boy is up to this level of magic, I realize that he and Potter are inseparable. He will be in just as much danger. Hopefully, Granger will be able to protect them both. She, at least, has some measure of talent."

"Your objections are noted. Who would you recommend from Slytherin?" Dumbledore asked, smiling.

"With understandable reasons, there are only a few," Snape looked momentarily guilty. "Even those who will not go to Voldemort's side have family connections that would make things difficult if these classes are to be kept secret. Mr. Zabini is trustworthy enough. And I would like to have Mr. Malfoy take the classes as well."

"Of course."

Snape was surprised at Dumbledore's ready agreement. McGonagall shot out of her chair, shaking her head.

"No, Albus. We are not certain of Malfoy's allegiance yet. It would be dangerous."

Dumbledore looked over at Professor Morrigan, quirking an eyebrow in question. She closed her eyes momentarily, before looking back at him and nodding.

"Draco Malfoy will take the classes." The headmaster's voice did not allow room for argument.

"Hmph." McGonagall sat back down in her chair, angry but silent.

Three Hufflepuffs and five Ravenclaws were added to the list, and although Snape objected to at least one of the Hufflepuff group, he kept silent. It was a young witch that did have some talent with medical magic, and would probably not be on the front lines when the time came.

Just before the professors stood to leave, Snape cleared his throat.

"I have one more objection to this," he said.

"And that is?" Albus asked.

"Do I really have to teach with the aid of that girl?" He waved a hand in the direction of Professor Morrigan.

"Yes, Severus," Albus smiled at him sympathetically. "Aislyn has expertise in certain areas that could prove useful. I fear, my dear Severus, that in the end even you may grow to appreciate her. The other person that will be aiding you, however, may be more difficult for you to bear."

Professor Morrigan grinned.

**********

A familiar eagle owl perched on Draco's bed one night as he went up to get ready for bed. Dreading the contents, he hesitated to open the letter that had been tied to its leg. He was correct to do so. In no uncertain terms, his father let him know that he would have one last chance. He would be introduced to the Dark Lord at Yule.

His hand shaking, he scribbled a short note and tied it to the owl's leg.

I'm not coming home.

He knew that it would probably mean a death sentence. He was sure of it the next morning when nearly the entire Slytherin table was swamped with owls, all bearing letters with the same crest.

**********

Snape sat at his desk grading essays, laughing aloud at some of the stupidity found therein. He had just found a particularly amusing example when the door to his office burst open. Draco Malfoy ran in, closing the door behind him and promptly collapsing to the floor.

Snape got to the boy as quickly as he could.

"What happened! What's wrong, son?"

"The mail came," Draco shut his eyes against the pain. "They know."

Snape pulled the boy to his feet and helped him walk over to a chair. His white-blonde hair was falling unkempt around his face. A bruise was beginning to form around one eye. His lip was bleeding.

"Who did this to you?" he asked. "Was it Potter?"

Draco shook his head. "No." He looked at his professor, still puzzled over his rival's actions. "Potter stopped them."

"Then who?"

"Crabbe and Goyle. They all got letters. They know that I refused."

Snape pulled up the sleeve of his robes. The mark was dark and angry, but not as inflamed as it could sometimes be. "Do you know that I did not?"

Draco nodded. "I know that you're a spy, professor. Dumbledore wouldn't hire a Death Eater."

Snape snorted. "You'd be surprised at what Dumbledore would hire." He was thinking about Lupin, and most recently, the child that had set out to humiliate him from the moment she stepped into the castle. "Come on. We'd better get you to Poppy. Think you can make it holding on to my arm?"

Draco nodded again and stood, with difficulty. He held the edge of the desk to keep from putting weight on his injured leg. Even leaning, at seventeen, the boy was nearly as tall as his professor. He looped an arm around the older man's neck.

As they approached the Infirmary, they heard a rather loud argument taking place between the Gryffindor trio.

"Bloody hell, Harry! What were you thinking?!" Draco heard the Weasel shouting.

"He was in trouble Ron," a quiet voice answered.

"He's a Malfoy, Harry. A Malfoy! He deserves to be beaten to a pulp!"

"No one deserves that."

"Hmph." Even Ron's snort spoke volumes of disbelief. However, upon seeing Snape and Malfoy at the doorway, he prudently decided to keep his mouth shut. Hermione's elbow in his ribs helped him do so. Mme. Pomfrey walked over and shooed the couple out, pointing Draco to the bed beside Harry. Snape led him over and left to speak with the medi-witch.

"So you finally made it," Harry looked over at the other boy, pity clear on his face. "We couldn't find you after you ran off."

"Sod off, Potter." Pity would get the Golden Boy absolutely nowhere.

"Good to know you're capable of gratitude," Harry's temper flared. He had hoped that Malfoy would at least be polite.

"Oh, my hero! Thank you dearly for saving the damsel in distress!" Draco pretended a swoon, speaking in a high falsetto. "Is that more your taste, Scar-face?"

"Are you going to be okay?" He was still worried, despite the fact that Malfoy was being a git.

"I'll be fine. You've done your Gryffindor good deed for the day."

Deciding that attempting conversation with the Slytherin would be useless, he turned over and pretended to ignore him. However, he listened closely as Mme. Pomfrey examined the other boy.

She tutted sadly as the diagnosing charm uncovered many more violent injuries than she had expected, as well as exposure to Cruciatus.

"My boy! What have you done to yourself? Some of these injuries are months old!"

Harry thought he heard the other boy mumble "Father."

"Oh you poor dear! Well then, we will see that you're fixed up as good as new," She patted him consolingly on the hand and walked away to get some potions, Malfoy glaring at her back.

"Don't worry. You get used to the mollycoddling," Harry chuckled. "I'm fine. Just needed some ice for my jaw. But she insists on keeping me here because I'm supposedly 'fragile.'"

Malfoy looked over to the other beds, assessing the damage to his two former thugs, both of which were still unconscious.

"Did you do that?" he asked.

"Yeah. Well, with Ron's help," Harry answered. "His reluctance to help you didn't extend to letting me get squashed."

"Still, you did that, and Pomfrey thinks you're the fragile one?"

"I had to learn to take care of myself. You aren't the only one with family problems." A darkness clouded Harry's eyes for a moment.

"So you heard." Malfoy had to fight the impulse to hide. He certainly didn't need Potter knowing that he had been abused.

"I suspected before," He smiled at the other boy. "I knew Lucius was an evil prat. And I knew that you were too proud to kneel at Voldie's feet."

"Voldie?" Draco smirked.

Harry smiled.

"It wasn't pride, Potter. It was what they wanted me to do," Draco looked at the other boy, serious for a moment. "As much as I hate you, I can't help them kill you."

"That's good to know," Harry sighed. "My uncle used to do some pretty bad things to me too."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. He'd never heard anything but how wonderful a life Potter had.

"I know, doesn't fit the image. But then, I never wanted the image to begin with."

"Figures," Draco answered, although he didn't understand the other boy's reluctance. Had he been the one with the fame and glory, he would have exploited every second.

"Dumbledore feels horrible about it," Harry explained. "He was the one who put me there to begin with. In the end, they had to give me permission to use magic outside of school, purely to defend against them."

"Why not move out?" Draco asked.

"The wards. Apparently, that house is the only place outside Hogwarts where I can be safe."

"Then I guess that both of us will be looking forward to graduation. We both get to be away from that," Draco said. "Thing is, with me, Dad gave me everything until I resisted the Mark. He loved me, or at least I thought he did. Then, he changed."

Draco sighed, lost in his own thoughts. It had been his father's rejection that had hurt him the most, not the physical abuse. He really had been the spoiled little rich kid, believing that his parents would give him anything and do anything for him. It had been a shock to find that he was nothing more than a slave for his father to donate to Voldemort's service.

Harry saw the expression on Draco's face and decided that the boy needed a break from his thoughts.

"What are you going to do after graduation anyway?" he asked.

"Oh, I haven't really thought about it. I was going to go to University, but now I don't have any money," Draco said. Then, as if realizing it for the first time, he groaned. He would have to get a job. "Merlin, I'm a bloody pauper!"

"It's not so bad, Malfoy," Harry said, consolingly. "I'd give up every cent I have for a family who loves me. Ron doesn't realize how lucky he is."

"Yes, but look at his clothes!" Draco moaned, running a hand over his face, then grunted in pain when his fingers came in contact with his puffy eye. "I can't believe those idiots hit my face! They'd better hope the damage isn't permanent."

"Well, at least we know that your vanity wasn't for show," Harry quipped, laughing.

Mme. Pomfrey bustled in and administered a surprisingly large number of potions to Malfoy. As the blonde laid back in his bed, drowsiness setting in, Harry spoke up again.

"You know, Malfoy, we have actually managed to have a conversation without attempting to kill each other? It was...nice."

Malfoy grunted sleepily in reply, but he was smiling.

***********

Draco awoke to find the sheet drawn between his and Harry's bed. Voices were coming from the other side. Whispers, as if they didn't want to be heard.

"I worry about you, Harry."

"Of course you do, but you don't have to be so overprotective," Harry's voice replied. "I'm seventeen years old. I think I can take care of myself."

"I think that you proved that much yesterday. But you're still a boy," the stranger said. "And Lily and James would never forgive me if I let you start thinking you are an adult already."

"You've been great. But you can loosen the leash a bit, you know."

The other man chuckled, then the voice grew serious. "Dumbledore says it's all coming down on graduation."

"Figures," Malfoy could almost picture the other boy's disappointed face. "I couldn't possibly have one good, Voldie free memory here."

"I'm staying." The deeper voice stated firmly.

"Don't go getting yourself into trouble on my account."

"It'll be safe. Besides, Dumbledore has a job for me."

"Only if you're sure. I don't want to lose someone else," Harry sighed. The door to the Infirmary swung open, creaking a bit. Malfoy saw a flurry of movement behind the curtain. It was whipped back, and Snape was looking down into his face.

"How are you today, Mr. Malfoy?" the older man asked.

Draco was too busy looking over at Harry's bed to answer. There was no one there but a shaggy black dog. A shaggy black dog that was growling at his professor. Harry looked slightly guilty.

"Better, I think, Professor," Malfoy finally answered Snape's question.

"Good then. Poppy says that you should be released in a few days," Snape allowed a small smile. "Would you come to my office then? We have some matters to discuss."

"Yes sir."

Snape looked over at Harry. "What are you still doing here, Potter? Mme. Pomfrey told you to leave in the morning," He sneered at the dog. "I would suggest that you get yourself, and your mutt, out of the Infirmary."

Harry grabbed the dog around the neck. It looked as if it would launch itself at Snape at any moment. Harry nodded, pulling at the snarling dog. "Come on, Snuffles," he begged, finally getting the dog to the door.

"Some things never change," Snape mumbled.

"What was that, Professor?"

"Nothing, Mr. Malfoy. I will have Mr. Zabini bring your schoolwork," Snape smiled down at his student.

"Thanks."

Snape looked as if he were about to say something else, but instead he nodded and walked out.

**********

The days passed, with punctual visits from Snape every morning, and the occasional visit from Blaise purely on the orders of Snape. Surprisingly enough, Potter had also dropped in on occasion. Despite the inevitable arguments that ensued each time, Malfoy had come to look forward to the time spent with his rival. The practice of trading insults became fun when they weren't actively trying to kill one another. Dumbledore had stopped by once, but Malfoy had been uncomfortable with the gentle understanding of the aged wizard. He had left a letter inviting him to take special classes in combat magic beginning after the holidays. It sounded interesting.

Finally, several days after the fight, he was released. As promised, he walked straight through the dungeons to Snape's office. Dumbledore had told him that Crabbe and Goyle were expelled. However, Malfoy didn't put it past several of the other Slytherins to finish the job. He didn't want to be caught in a deserted hallway again.

Snape was in his office, a pot of tea and two teacups already set out. He had been waiting. He stood, and gesturing the boy to a seat, he glanced both ways outside the door before closing it and casting a silencing charm. He was about to divulge secrets that could very easily get him killed if they were overheard.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but let it pass. Snape, more than anyone else, had the right to be a bit paranoid.

"You wished to see me, sir?"

Snape nodded. "I need to explain some things. You already said that you know I'm a spy."

Draco smiled. "It was just a lucky guess. If you hadn't been, I would have been dead the moment I burst through your door."

"Oh I doubt that," He smiled. "I wouldn't want to blow my cover. But you do understand that now you must also play a part in this act?"

"If you teach me, sir, I am willing become a spy as well." Draco promised, misunderstanding Snape's words.

Snape looked appalled at the thought.

"No, son. You've already been exposed to far too much danger as it is. I simply meant that you must become part of my camouflage," he poured himself a cup of tea, sipping slowly to allow time to gather his thoughts. "I will have to treat you with a certain amount of scorn in the classroom, you understand."

Draco nodded. "By now the whole school knows that I refused the Mark."

"And they will expect the evil, Death Eater Potions Master to hate you for doing so."

"Of course."

"Do you think that you can sit through a few unjustified detentions, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I think that can be arranged." Draco smirked, understanding.

"Very well, then. We are agreed," Snape held a pale hand over the desk. Draco shook it. "Now, Mr. Malfoy, I do believe it is time for dinner."

He shooed the boy out and waited for a few moments before heading to dinner himself.

**********

"No, Sirius," a playful laugh greeted Snape as he walked past one of the empty classrooms. He recognized it immediately, simply because he had heard it often in the past weeks directed at him. He hated being laughed at.

"Aislyn, please? For me?"

Another tinkle of laughter. Snape peeked in the doorway, curious.

Sirius Black stood there, doing his level best to project a puppy-dog face at the new DADA professor.

"You know that doesn't work on me," she had tilted her head to the side. Her hair was down today, falling in auburn ringlets to below her hips. Snape found himself wondering how nice it would be to play with such hair. Without that hair, the girl would have been rather ordinary and plain. He wondered why she kept it tied up.

With some effort, he shook those thoughts from his mind. She was just a child. And she had laughed at him.

"I can't stay in Hogsmeade. Do you know how humiliating it is to have to beg scraps from people? And you get absolutely no decent conversation in the guise of a stray dog."

"How boring it must be," She looked as if she didn't believe a word. She glanced up and caught Snape's eye. Hers were twinkling. It reminded him of Albus.

"I want to be close to Harry, Aislyn. Surely you understand that."

She smiled then, and nodded. "Well, at least you finally admit the truth. Very well then, you can stay in my quarters," she reached up and cupped Black's cheek momentarily. "But, Sirius...no drinking. You're damned annoying when you're drunk. And if Remus comes over..."

"We'll be good little puppies, ma'am."

She grinned, and kissed Sirius on the cheek. When Sirius straightened, he saw Snape standing in the doorway. His playful expression immediately turned to an angry grimace.

Snape sneered. "Robbing the cradle, are we, Black?"

Sirius growled, his wand out. "What would you know about it, Snape? Have you ever had a date in your life?"

Snape came into the room, his wand in hand as well. "I've had enough to know that I prefer women to children."

"Aislyn's no child."

Snape snorted. "No, I'm certain you made sure of that."

Sirius and Snape flicked their wands simultaneously, but before the curses were uttered, both men were thrown against opposite walls, several feet from the ground. Their wands were clasped tightly in one of Professor Morrigan's hands. Her hair was bristling.

"Now, if the two of you are done debating my age," she stated, her lips tight, "you can come down peaceably." The two men nodded, still hanging from the walls. Snape was angry, Sirius resigned. Apparently he had been subjected to this treatment before.

She smiled, and both men fell to the floor. She gave them their wands, and whispered the password to her quarters into Black's ear. He nodded and changed, bounding off down the hall.

She placed her arm into the crook of Snape's elbow, surprising him. "Now, Severus, could you please escort a lady to dinner?" she chuckled. "And if you have any worries about 'robbing the cradle,' you should know that I'm nearly thirty."

Snape just nodded, still shocked at the experience of being hung from a stone wall. The 'girl' had not used a wand.

**********

Draco had initially sat at the end of the Slytherin table, as far from the Death Eater 'potentials' as possible. Only a few of the Slytherins were willing to speak to him. Blaise had come over only long enough to give him his homework. Even those who would not become part of Voldemort's posse were too afraid of the others to show him any kindness.

Sitting, as usual, facing the Gryffindor table, he became aware of a whispered argument between its three most famous members. The Boy-Who-Lived, and the Boy-Who-Lived's Friends were clearly having a moment of extreme disagreement, if the colour of Weasley's face were an indicator. It was steadily becoming the same shade as his hair. He had turned, arms crossed, away from Harry. Hermione was pulling on his arm, apparently begging him to be reasonable. Finally, Potter sat back and let out an exasperated sigh. He stood up and shook his head, making a comment to Weasley before stalking away from the table.

Draco readied his smirk, expecting the boy to leave the Great Hall due to the argument. However, the smirk was soon replaced by a very convincing impression of a goldfish. Harry had stopped at the Slytherin table.

"Hi Mal-uh, Draco. We kinda noticed that you were by yourself over here," he beckoned to the empty chairs at Draco's sides. "We, well, Hermione and I at least, thought that you might want to come sit with us."

His shock worn off, he raised an eyebrow at his rival. "Sorry, Potter. I don't fancy being poisoned at the dinner table."

"Almost everyone's promised to be nice."

"It's the 'almost' that I'm worried about," He nodded at the very angry redhead.

"Hermione can control Ron. She's about the only one who can," Harry grinned.

Draco looked down his own table. Almost everyone was glaring murderously in his direction.

"Perhaps you're right, Potter. I'm more likely to be poisoned if I stay here," he looked dubiously at the pumpkin juice sitting before him. He stood and followed Potter over to the Gryffindor table. Surprisingly, he got several welcoming smiles as he sat down. Seamus moved down to sit beside him.

"So, Malfoy, is it true?" the Irish boy was bouncing in his seat.

"Is what true?"

"Are you going to be a spy?" He rubbed his hands together, obviously expecting plenty of juicy details.

Draco laughed, genuinely laughed. It was the first time that most of the Gryffindors had seen a real smile on Malfoy's face. Most looked a bit shocked that it was possible.

"Use your head, Finnigan. If I were a spy, would I tell the biggest gossip in Hogwarts?" He smirked at the boy. "And do you honestly think that I would blow my cover by sitting with you lot?"

"Why are you sitting here, Malfoy?" Ron asked, frowning. "What would bring you to want to sit with Potty, Mudblood, and the Weasel?"

"Because Potter was feeling charitable, and it's a hell of a lot friendlier with a bunch of people I hate who aren't trying to kill me."

"Maybe not yet," Ron was pounding a fist into one hand. Hermione laid a hand on his arm.

"We are all relieved that you are on our side, Draco," she said, smiling. "It just hasn't quite sunken in for all of us yet."

Harry looked over at him, his green eyes sad and his voice as soft as usual. "I was afraid that I would end up having to kill you. If it had come to that, I don't think I could have."

The other Gryffindors looked at their resident hero, shocked. Even Ron ceased with the threatening gestures and stared wide-eyed at his friend.

Draco understood. After all, it was the same conclusion that had caused him to refuse his father in the first place. He told them as much.

Ron studied him for a moment.

"You really didn't want to hurt Harry?" he asked, biting his lip.

Draco nodded.

"Oh. Is it okay if I still think your dad's the spawn of Satan?"

Draco smiled at that, if rather sadly. "Weasley, I'd have to be inclined to agree with you on that count," he looked down at his manicured fingernails. The next bit was going to be difficult.

"I'm sorry for everything I did. It was just what Lucius told me to," he grinned. "But you have to admit that some of the pranks were pretty cool."

Ginny Weasley laughed. "Are you sure you aren't related to us? You sound an awful lot like my brothers."

"Oh no, I could never hold a candle to the twins," he admitted reluctantly. The pair had become famous soon after they graduated for the success of their joke shop. With that idea in mind, he asked, "Do you think they'd give me a job, though? I seem to be suddenly out of an inheritance."

Harry grinned. "Sorry, Draco. Fred and George don't deal in sarcasm."

Looking between Harry and Draco, Ron appeared to make a decision. He surprised Draco by extending a hand over the table.

"Ron Weasley. I don't believe we've met."

Draco shook his hand. "Draco. Just Draco. Nice to meet you."

Hermione rolled her eyes, giggling. "One name. That is so eighties."

The muggle-born students at the table all laughed. At the puzzled look on the faces of most of the others, Hermione launched into an explanation of muggle rock stars.

Draco was beginning to have fun.