~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~
Pettigrew hovered at the entrance to the secret passageway with nervously twisting hands. "Yes, uh, Snape?"
Snape spared him a half-second glance precisely then returned his gaze to the third-year syllabus. "I realise your talents are limited, Pettigrew, but if you can cast a competent memory charm then I have an assignment for you."
"Wh—what assignment?"
"I am hardly going to waste my time expounding the details to you if I will be forced to undertake it myself. Have you cast memory charms?"
"Of course I have! I'm not incompetent, Snape. I've survived fifteen years undercover."
"Yes," Snape agreed blandly. "As a rodent."
Pettigrew remained in nervous silence. Snape gritted his teeth and shifted his attention to the 7th-year syllabus.
"I haven't cast many memory charms other than blanket ones," Pettigrew said. "Nothing, uh … delicate."
"Are you able at least to extract information from an unwilling target?" He looked up again to see Pettigrew shuffling his feet. It was a good thing Snape didn't truly need him for anything; the man was literally useless.
"Would you like me to rephrase the question?"
Pettigrew started and met Snape's eyes with guilty terror. "No, I … I know what you mean."
"You are here to assist me, Pettigrew, not to get flustered and avoid answering my questions. Can you extract information from an unwilling target?"
"I can do torture," Pettigrew squeaked.
Snape let an expression of amused tolerance flicker onto his face. "You can do torture? Is that so?"
Pettigrew turned a dull red and straightened up a little. "I'm as much a Death Eater as you are," he declared. "I'm not a stupid little Gryffindor any more and you know it."
Snape smiled. "Hm."
"I mean it, Snape. You know what I did to Bertha Jorkins."
Snape laughed, genuinely amused. "You took Bertha Jorkins by surprise and surrendered her to the Dark Lord. You could not bring yourself to so much as threaten her until you were in the presence of our master."
Such a weakness, the Gryffindor brand of pride. Predictable, contemptible weakness. Pettigrew drew himself up to his paltry height and squared his stooped shoulders.
"I can extract information from an unwilling target," he whined loudly. "I've done it before, when I hadn't yet resurrected the Dark Lord. I can do it again."
Snape sighed and made yet another note on the syllabus to remind him to emphasise emotional control in every class. Repeatedly. "You'll forgive me if I don't believe you."
Pettigrew swallowed uncertainly. This would be much easier if the Dark Lord hadn't expressly forbidden the use of Legilimency on the rat. As if Snape would be able to reverse the effects of any memory charms the Dark Lord would no doubt have used to protect his most valuable secrets.
Pettigrew appeared to have gathered whatever shreds of courage he possessed. His voice was firmer. Louder. Verging on belligerent. "A student tried to steal me from Ron's dormitory. He wouldn't tell me why. So I made him."
"A student," Snape said flatly. "A child. This is your example."
"I cast Cruciatus on a child. He screamed, Snape. He spilled all his secrets and I cast it again. I didn't leave Bertha Jorkins alone because I was weak. I left her alone because I didn't want to damage her when she was needed by the Dark Lord. If you need information from somebody, I can get it."
Snape didn't need Legilimency to hear the bravado in that statement but nor did he miss the sick honesty behind it.
"How did you know he told you everything?" Snape asked, business-like. "The Cruciatus curse does not encourage honesty any more than it does silence."
"I know when a thirteen-year-old boy is lying to me," Pettigrew said. "I always knew."
"Entertaining though vague references to your petty childhood grievances no doubt are, I will not be sending you to interrogate any thirteen-year-old boys."
"Then give me some Veritaserum," Pettigrew said.
"You are here to assist me, Pettigrew, not to instruct me."
Pettigrew blanched. Snape hadn't even used a particularly menacing tone.
"I don't know what you want from me," Pettigrew complained. "I can get information from torture, but if you're not going to believe I can get the truth then there isn't any point in sending me."
"You are correct."
Pettigrew's eyes slid back and forth between Snape's warily.
"I am glad to hear you do not have an overly inflated idea of your usefulness to me," Snape continued. "If I need information gained from a rodent scurrying in the gutter I will summon you again."
Pettigrew didn't scuttle away immediately, though his body language suggested he would very much like to. He swayed slightly back and forwards on his heels. Working himself up to defiance: how charming.
"It was one of your Slytherins, you know," he said eventually. "Working for Sirius Black."
Snape gave him a supremely uninterested look. "I am aware," he said.
That deflated Pettigrew thoroughly. "Oh," he said.
"It was somewhat of a nuisance for you to have interfered in the matter. It took some time to find a suitable replacement."
"Oh." Pettigrew started to back away.
Snape smiled at him.
~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~
It was early August by the time Snape finally came around and visited Hogsmeade. At nine in the morning, the bastard. First thing Daniel knew about it was a sharp knocking at his bedroom door dragging him out of a dream where he was small, quick and being harassed by an enormous black dog. The dog had been laughing at him in Sirius's voice and telling him to run faster and then screaming to stop running altogether.
Once he'd cracked open his eyes, worked out where he was and seen the time of day he was more than a little annoyed. "What?" he groaned. "Why aren't you at work?"
"You will be ready to leave the house in ten minutes," someone said. And it wasn't Ralph. "We are going to Diagon Alley."
Daniel very nearly told him to piss off. Instead he rolled out of bed and fought his way through the clothes on his floor to stare blankly into his wardrobe. Trousers. He would need trousers. And a shirt, probably. Maybe he should have a shower. It had been a while. And shaving. Shaving was good. Though stubble could be dashing.
"Livingstone." Snape sounded exhausted. Like he couldn't even get any energy into an annoyed exclamation. Daniel grabbed jeans and the least-crumpled shirt he could see.
"I'm coming," he said. "You said ten minutes."
"I will be outside."
Daniel got dressed, nearly falling over his jeans as he tried to put them on. He should probably get something to eat before he collapsed from hunger. But there wasn't time, because Snape was an arse.
He hesitated before pulling the sheet off his mirror. It had been a while since he'd gone out in proper public. The mirror was a pain, but at least it was honest. Going into London looking like a yeti wasn't on the cards.
"Oh hello, you," the mirror said. "My, you have let yourself go."
"Yes. Thank you." Daniel forced a smile.
"You need to give you hair a good combing, you do. And wash your face, for goodness sake. Anyone would think you —"
"Fine," Daniel said. "Thanks." He flicked the sheet up over the mirror again. He'd completely forgotten about his hair.
Ten minutes was a ridiculous limit. He could manage ten minutes at school, when he'd gotten himself organised the night before. As it was, he was barely awake.
He splashed water on his face; that would have to do. He slipped out of his room and out of the house as quickly as he could, hoping he hadn't been over ten minutes. This trip was going to suck enough that he didn't want to blow it before it even started.
Snape was standing under the oak in the front garden looking pale and tired. He glanced across at Daniel and closed his eyes. It looked like he was trying to gather strength for something. Daniel turned back to lock the door.
"Shoes, Livingstone," Snape said tightly.
"Mine are worn out," Daniel told him brightly. "I don't have the money for new ones."
He tried not to clench his jaw against the cold black stare Snape gave him. Snape may hate him now, but he was hardly going to murder him. He was his head of house. There were rules against that kind of thing.
Snape spoke again. "I assume you did not think to bring your Hogwarts letter."
"Don't need it," Daniel said. "The salespeople always know the booklists anyway. I don't need anything else."
"Besides shoes."
"I won't really need shoes until the winter," Daniel said. "And Diagon Alley isn't the only place that sells them."
Snape stopped and glared at Daniel. "In fact, all you need to purchase from London specifically are the required books."
That was what he'd just said, wasn't it? He nodded. Snape breathed out through his nose and held out his arm stiffly. "We will apparate."
Daniel laid a hand reluctantly on Snape's elbow. He could see the man's hand trembling, just the tiniest bit. He gulped and decided to quash every single impulse he had to be annoying. Books, shoes, miscellaneous stationery. Back home. Away from Snape. Easy.
The world folded in on itself and tore him away from Hogsmeade.
~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~
They landed without issue in the alley that contained the entrance to Diagon Alley. Livingstone drew in three deep breaths and let go of Snape's arm.
"How come you never smash into people when you apparate?" he asked. "There might have been somebody standing here."
Snape pulled him out of the alcove. "That is why we do not linger," he said. "There is protocol to be observed."
Livingstone jerked himself out of Snape's grip. Snape strode past him to open the entrance. With the boy in a ratty mood to perfectly match his appearance this business had best be completed quickly. Snape's own business would not take longer than an hour, but Dumbledore's insistence that Livingstone go shopping with him would no doubt eat the time away.
"Ugh, it's foul here," Livingstone commented. "All muggy." He went to walk through the archway.
"Wait."
Livingstone paused with one foot still in the air. Snape spoke slowly and calmly. "I don't care what you see or hear on this trip. You will remain calm, quiet and obedient. You will cause no trouble."
Livingstone lowered his foot carefully and turned back to Snape. "What do you mean? What am I going to see?"
"I do not pretend to predict your bizarre reactions," Snape told him.
Livingstone stared over Snape's shoulder with a darkly disgruntled expression. "You don't have to bring me along at all if you don't want. I can get most of what I need in Hogsmeade. If I'm going to be so much trouble you might as well get my books yourself."
"I am not your personal assistant," Snape said. Without understanding the twisted workings of Dumbledore's mind he had no justification for Livingstone's presence on this errand. Conveniently, it seemed that Livingstone wasn't expecting to be given one anyway.
"Fine," he said, turning away slightly. "Can I go in now?"
Snape gestured expansively. A year ago Livingstone would have rolled his eyes and rushed ahead. Now the eyes narrowed to consider him for a moment before he slouched through to Diagon Alley.
Snape followed the boy the ten feet or so he'd walked before coming to a dead stop in the middle of the street. Surely Livingstone hadn't expected to see business as usual. No: he was too still to have been stricken dumb by the general appearance of the place. His gaze was much more tightly focused than that. Snape followed it to the posters covering the walls of Gable's apothecary. Bellatrix Lestrange. Mort Rookwood. Amycus and Alecto Carrow.
Before Snape could snap Livingstone out of whatever daze he was in the boy turned his head. "Books, then?" He didn't wait for an answer. He completely ignored the peddlers on either side of him in favour of picking out a clear path for his bare feet on the rough stones.
"No," Snape said. "Shoes."
The peddlers didn't bother approaching Snape.
~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~
Daniel remembered last year's trip to Diagon Alley. It had been quiet, but nowhere near this quiet. What was weird was that last year he'd seen a grand total of four fellow Hogwarts students he'd recognised but the place was all a-bustle. Now it seemed he couldn't turn a corner or walk into a shop without coming across a schoolmate and for all that Diagon Alley was a shadow of its former self. He hadn't been able to help a disbelieving kind of a grin at the sight of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes sitting like a phoenix among the ashes, busy and bustling. He'd hidden it, though. Snape's expression had more than a hint of U-No-Poo in it.
Sirius would have loved it.
Daniel caught a glimpse of the Creevey brothers and Max Frobisher emerging carrying bags and boxes almost too big for the lot of them. As if Gryffindor kids needed more ways to cause trouble. He wondered whether the twins realised that the world was actually a bloody dangerous place now. That giving middle-year Gryffindors crates of fireworks and trick snacks could backfire on them so hard they'd see stars.
Whatever. It wasn't really his problem. He followed Snape into the bookshop and hung back while the man ordered Daniel's books and handed the pudgy bookseller a list of others to look for.
She glanced over the list. "This might take a while. Why don't you come back in an hour or so?"
Snape glared at her disagreeably. The woman, to her credit, gave him a fairly friendly smile. "Or you could wait here."
"Livingstone, you will not leave this building until I return," Snape said abruptly.
That sounded like Snape was going away and Daniel would finally get some kind of freedom. Daniel put a bit of a whinge in his voice. "For an hour?"
"I am certain you will find ample amusement. Perhaps Miss Stubbs could use your assistance in locating books as required."
It wasn't like Snape to just expect Daniel to obey him. Maybe it was some kind of trick so that if Daniel left the shop and got abducted or killed or whatever then Snape wouldn't have to put up with him any more. Reverse psychology and all that. "Yeah, whatever," he said. The perfect, all-purpose reply.
Snape nodded and swept out of the shop. The silence he left behind was more than a little uncomfortable.
"Sorry, I didn't catch your name," Miss Stubbs said.
"Daniel," Daniel said. "And I'm going to see enough books to make my brain leak soon enough so if it's all the same to you I won't take up his suggestion."
She shrugged and then glanced around Daniel as the door opened behind him. Daniel turned to see a frazzled woman in very Mugglish clothing holding the door open for a girl he recognised and two boys he didn't. Jane Usher would be in her second year now and presumably the boys were her brothers. As if Hogwarts didn't have enough twins already. At least they weren't identical. In fact, they looked to be just about opposites. One had long fair hair and a fixed scowl on his face while the other had black hair spiked up in the middle and looked close to tears. Jane had already edged away to flip through a book on a nearby shelf.
"Hi," the mother said with a strained smile. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a list written on regular paper. "I'm looking for The Standard Book of Spells Grade Two, A History of Magic —"
Miss Stubbs came out from behind the counter and held her hand out for the list. "Easier this way, love," she said. "First and second year? Two copies first year?"
"Ah, no," Mrs. Usher said. "We need all of the second year books, but only one set for first year. Any than Jane can pass down we'll reuse."
Miss Stubbs frowned at the two boys. "They might be sorted into different houses," she said uncertainly.
Mrs. Usher shook her head. "Go play with your sister, boys," she said. The blond boy gave her a dirty look and vanished into the shelves. His brother followed him a little hesitantly. Daniel picked up Wand, Broomstick and Candle and pretended to read it, wandering over to the front window.
"Aidan isn't a wizard," Mrs. Usher said softly. "I'm a Muggle, see, and their father's long gone. The magic missed my eldest as well."
Daniel couldn't help but glance towards the conversation. Miss Stubbs saw him looking and he looked away quickly. Dean had mentioned his sister and how devastated she'd been when no Hogwarts letter came for her. But for them to be in the same year …
He looked out of the window to find a distraction and was surprised to find one straight away.
~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~
Livingstone would no doubt wander out of Stubbs's shop after a short time but Snape doubted he would wander far. He did have some sense of self-preservation both when it came to external threats and Snape's own ire. Nevertheless, Snape intended to find what he needed, buy what he needed, threaten where he needed and return as quickly as possible.
So when he saw Draco Malfoy emerging alone from Knockturn Alley it was a distraction he thoroughly did not need but could not ignore. Malfoy saw him and gave him a careless smile.
"Mr. Malfoy," Snape greeted him.
The boy reluctantly walked over to present himself. "Professor Snape," he said warily.
"Draco," Snape said, re-thinking his strategy. "Where is your mother?"
Malfoy waved a hand negligently. "Oh, she's visiting Barnabas at the Prophet," he said. "I had business of my own. We're to meet at Marlon's when we're done."
He had to have slipped away from his mother without her realising; Narcissa Malfoy was far too protective of her son to let him conduct "business" on his own in Knockturn Alley. And there was little Draco could do that his mother wouldn't wholeheartedly approve of. If Draco was trying to hide his activities then they were important enough to postpone Snape's own business for the day. "Indeed."
"I'd better go on now," Malfoy said. "I shouldn't like to keep her waiting and I'm sure you have plenty to do yourself."
Snape nodded and stepped to one side. "Give Mrs. Malfoy my regards."
Malfoy nodded briskly. "Certainly." He strode off, his grey robes fluttering slightly as he walked.
In Knockturn Alley the Malfoys tended to patronise Fillimore's, The Oxbridge, Borgin & Burkes and the Silver Dragon. Snape allowed himself one aggrieved sigh and headed into the alley to investigate.
The first things he noticed were the disembodied voices making their way out of Knockturn Alley. The second things he noticed were occasional flashes of feet hurrying along the street at approximately the same location. Snape automatically fell back into one of the many secluded spots by Yarden's weaponry shop and listened.
"You could at least have checked with us. I could have told you not to say you were Malfoy's friend."
"We're in a hurry Ron. What if somebody's noticed we're gone?"
"Just because you got ten Os doesn't make you good at everything."
"I know that. I notice you didn't have a better —"
"You didn't give us a chance to! You told us to stay put and just ran off!"
"Shut up, you two. We've got to get back."
For one day. For just one day, Snape would like to have one problem to solve and time to solve it. His vow to protect Potter wasn't strictly speaking an Unbreakable Vow, but it was unbreakable all the same. And impossible. The boy literally did not learn.
There was nothing he could do about Potter's careless attitude that would make the slightest bit of difference, but Draco's trail was still warm. Snape put on an attitude of bored diligence and walked into Fillimore's. He ignored the manifold scuttling creatures in tanks and walked to the desk where Magda Fillimore was sitting chewing on her nails and reading a black-and-white magazine. "Narcissa Malfoy is looking for her son," he said. "Has he been in here?"
"Nah. Went past little while back. Looked fine. You needing some more Rancrabs?"
"Perhaps. Not before Draco is found."
Fillimore shrugged and flipped a page. "Suit yourself. I'll still be here."
He could return if he found later she had been lying. He went on to Borgin & Burkes. He'd never liked the place but it could be an invaluable source of materials. The sign on the door proclaimed the shop closed, yet there were no spells on the door prohibiting entry. Through the dusty window Snape could see Borgin standing staring at a heavy black cabinet — a Vanishing Cabinet, from the look of it.
Snape let himself in. Borgin whirled on the spot and glared until he saw it was Snape in the doorway. Then he just smiled his obsequious smile with worry in his eyes.
"Narcissa Malfoy is looking for her son," Snape announced. "Has he been in here?"
"No, not him," Borgin said with a smart little bow. "Not for some time."
Snape considered him for a moment. "Closer to ten or fifteen minutes?"
"No, no, not for months." Borgin's face gave it away so obviously that Snape wondered how the man had ever achieved his reputation as a fast-talking salesman. Not to mention that he wouldn't meet Snape's eyes. He certainly wasn't keeping quiet about the visit from any sense of loyalty. Draco Malfoy had somehow bullied him into it.
Fortunately Snape had considerable experience in that sort of interaction. Enough that he barely had to exercise it any more. The reputation was enough.
"I am not asking you to reveal his every secret, Borgin. The boy's mother is simply concerned for his safety. Where did he go?"
Borgin pointed. Snape followed the gesture then turned back and stepped into the man's line of sight.
Draco Malfoy could adopt his father's countenance remarkably well. If Snape didn't know both of them extremely well he might almost have thought that it was Lucius staring down at Borgin with contemptuous silver eyes.
"I have located a similar model in need of some repair," Malfoy said. "There are irregularities in its function and some dangers in its use. Do you know how to fix it?"
Borgin licked his lips and shifted his feet. "Well, without seeing it I must say it will be a very difficult job. Perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."
Malfoy lifted his eyebrows in amusement. "No? Perhaps this will make you more confident." He narrowed the gap between them and unbuttoned his cuff.
It was quite a good reproduction. Certainly it would fool a cursory inspection, which seemed to be all Borgin was willing to give it. Snape knew better. Malfoy had nerve, to fabricate the Dark Lord's mark.
Snape withdrew from Borgin's mind. "Your willingness to assist has been noted," he said.
~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~
The instant Daniel looked out and saw Draco talking to Tim Harper and his father about thirty feet away, Draco looked up and after a small double-take realised he was standing there. He politely excused himself from the conversation he was in and walked towards the door.
Daniel set his book down on the nearest available space and walked out before Draco could come in and find himself in a room with Muggles and Muggleborns. No point causing a scene, after all.
Draco smiled and held out his hand. Daniel scoffed a little. He didn't shake hands with his friends; that was too weird.
"Hey," he said instead. "It's like rush hour around here."
Draco put on a look of pleased sort of incomprehension. "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"
Daniel shrugged. "I've never seen so many Hogwarts students in one place at the same time."
Draco laughed.
"Outside of Hogwarts," Daniel said. "What is it, National Shopping Day or something?"
Draco looked down his nose a little. "It is the first Saturday in August. Traditional, one might say."
Daniel sighed. "Might one."
Draco just stood there and smiled. He hadn't even made any disparaging remarks about Daniel's personal hygiene: it must be a really good mood he was in.
It was putting Daniel off. By rights, Draco should at least be pretending to hate him. He could probably use a reminder.
Daniel dug in the pockets of his jeans for a moment. "You don't know where I can change Muggle money, do you?"
Draco gave him a look of frank disbelief. "I beg your pardon?"
"Well it's no good to me like this." Daniel waved the notes vaguely in the air. Draco pursed his lips.
"Gringotts, I should think. Anyway, act like what I'm saying is pleasant and inconsequential. Before you leave here today drop in at Gable's. Tell Gable I sent you and you'll get a small box with potion vials in it. They're for you, so don't go accusing me of using you to traffic stolen goods or any rubbish like that. When you get back to Hogsmeade take an inch of blood and put it in one of the clear vials along with something I'll be giving you before you leave. Look at it after an hour and then at school tell me the colour. Okay?"
Daniel gave him a pleasant, inconsequential smile. "Mostly no."
Draco didn't look surprised. More determined. "You can get rid of it — you should get rid of it as soon as you know the colour. It's not dangerous, honestly. It's just something I need to know."
Daniel folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not putting my blood into some unknown potion from a stranger to satisfy your curiosity, Draco."
"The potion doesn't have any effect on either of the donors. All it does is change colour. Then you can banish it and that will be that. Nothing dangerous at all."
Daniel shook his head.
"Come on," Draco said, leaning forward a little. He wasn't looking pleasant or inconsequential. He was looking more than a little desperate. "I promise, it's harmless."
"And if it shows me for a Mudblood? Is it still harmless then?"
Draco stared at him for longer than he was comfortable with. Then he shook his head slightly and blinked firmly a few times. "You're not," he said.
"Clearly you think I might be, or you wouldn't need to test it."
"I need to be able to say there's evidence," Draco hissed. "It's not me that needs convincing."
"That's not what you said half a minute ago."
"Daniel," Draco said, no doubt trying for patience. "If you go back to school letting people think you don't have wizarding blood then I won't be able to do anything for you."
"Oh," Daniel said. He felt like he should be getting angry about now. He used to, whenever Draco started to think he could run his life for him. Now he just felt tired. On a normal day he'd still be in bed. "It's funny, but I don't remember mentioning needing anything from you."
He noticed Narcissa Malfoy hurrying towards them but didn't let any of it show in his face. Instead he gave Draco a false smile and watched the surprise, hurt and anger flicker across the other boy's face. They were quickly replaced by a forced serenity as he slid his hands into his pockets and stood a little straighter.
"Draco!" Mrs. Malfoy swept up to them hastily, one hand tucking some hair behind her ear. Draco wasn't surprised at all to hear her voice; he seemed to have been expecting it. She reached out and laid a hand on her son's shoulder, tension flooding out of her as she did. "Where have you been?"
"I went to take care of a couple of things," Draco said. He was affecting unconcern but Daniel could see him practically glowing at the affection he was receiving. He was enjoying dismissing it. Bastard.
When Mrs. Malfoy turned her attention to Daniel he was exceptionally glad he'd taken a comb to his hair while they'd waited for Gideon to search for a copy of the new Muggle Studies text. And that Snape had insisted he buy shoes. And, in a way, that he hadn't bothered to shave. She was gorgeous and he felt young.
After a moment of indecision he stuck out his hand. He'd barely met the woman really but she probably knew who he was. "Hi, Mrs. Malfoy."
The faintest of smiles touched her lips as she rested her hand in his and inclined her head. Her light blue eyes examined him more closely than he was quite comfortable with. She offered him a slightly broader smile once she was done, took her hand away and clasped both in front of her.
"I see what you mean," she said to Draco. They shared a smile that made something in Daniel's chest twinge a little. He swallowed and looked down.
"Are you here on your own, Daniel?" Mrs. Malfoy asked.
"Professor Snape came with me," he said. "I'm just waiting for him to come back from some business."
"I saw Professor Snape earlier, Mother," Draco said. "He sends his regards."
"Ah." Mrs. Malfoy smiled. "Perhaps we should wait with Daniel until he returns. There are some things I would quite like to discuss with Severus. It is nearly lunchtime, is it not?"
"I think he's in a bit of a hurry," Daniel said, not worried about sounding rude. He couldn't imagine many things more unpleasant than lunch with Snape and a couple of Malfoys.
To his surprise, Draco seemed to agree. "He did seem quite busy," he told his mother. "Perhaps we should invite him for dinner one day this week instead."
"Oh, Severus is dreadful with formal invitations," Mrs. Malfoy said. She gave Daniel a weird, conspiratorial look he couldn't quite work out. "If we don't bully him into society when we get the chance I daresay he will lose what few manners he has remaining." Another friendly look Daniel's way. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was trying to soften him up for something.
Know better? What he knew was Malfoys. Of course she was softening him up for something.
