Harry stood at the mirror in him and Draco's room. Draco appeared to bury himself in a book while Harry made slow circles, trying to see his new look from all angles. He stopped and turned his head from side to side as he tried to figure out exactly how they had managed to tame his hair. Draco groaned after Harry's sixth turn and sat up.
"What is the matter with you, Potter? It's just a haircut and new clothes!" Harry stopped and glared at Draco.
"You had to say something and ruin my peace and quiet didn't you?" Harry turned back to the mirror and raised a cautious hand to his hair. He touched the end and smiled. "This is the first pleasant moment I've had since this nightmare began."
"Well, you know me, Potter. I live to ruin a Gryffindor's day." Draco rose from his bed and went to stand next to Harry. "Hmm. Mathias said you were hopeless, and he was right. I suppose they did their best." Draco removed an invisible hair from his shirt and eyed himself. "I, however, look excellent, as always." Harry narrowed his eyes.
"Voldemort didn't take any of that arrogance away, did he?" Harry did not miss Draco closing his eyes and shuddering at the Dark Lord's name. "You must really like the word Crucio, don't you?"
Draco took a few steps away from Harry and eyed him. "How would you know?"
Harry saw something in Draco's eyes he couldn't quite decipher. "How could you know what it feels like?" He backed away from Harry and leaned against the wall. "You don't know what it's like."
Harry folded his arms, gave a little smirk and shook his head. "You are so naïve." Harry said with a small laugh. "So innocent of what your Lord does. He's been after me since I was a baby. Do you think I haven't felt all three of the Unforgiveables?" Draco stared at him. Harry raised a finger and traced his scar. "All three.""You…remember that?"
Harry dropped his hand and gave an explosive sigh. "It's the only memory I have of my parents' voices, and my first memory of Voldemort." Harry moved his gaze from the floor to meet Draco's eyes. "I know how it feels to be around Voldemort." Draco flinched at the name.
"Please, Ivan, don't say that name. Don't name him."
Harry looked at him and shrugged. "If you fear his name, you'll always be afraid of him." Draco's look did not change. "I'll call him Tom."
"Tom?" Draco asked. "You gave him a nickname?" Draco's disbelief was easily heard.
"That's his real name, Malfoy." Draco shook his head in bewilderment. "A common name for nothing more than a man." Harry shrugged again.
"You're not afraid of the Dark Lord?"
Harry glanced at Draco and shook his head. "He's tried to kill me at least five times. I can't afford to be afraid of Tom, Malfoy."
"Call me, Mikhail. Professor Snape wants us to get used to our names."
Harry rolled his eyes. "You actually want to cooperate with this crazy plan?" Harry asked.
"I plan to fully cooperate, so long as it keeps me alive, Ivan!"
"Hey! I didn't pick it, Mikhail. At least mine sounds noble. Yours sounds like I'm clearing a throat full of mucous."
Draco gave his best glare. It didn't look like much next to some of the glares Harry had received from Voldemort, and worse, Snape.
"At least I don't look like Snape, Ivan!"
The door to their room slammed open to reveal a highly annoyed Mathias.
"Enough!" He barked at the two of them. "You think my ears are pining for the sniveling cowardice of adolescents? With this racket, I'll not be able to hear myself thinking- and I have become used to the sounds of my thoughts over the years!" Mathias eyed the pair of them.
"Sorry, Master Mathias." The boys said in unison.
"Ah, but is not so easy." Mathias gave a mischievous smile. "When you disturb me, I must do something in return. Let's see." He raised one hand to his chin and stroked it lightly with his claw-like nails. "Perhaps you would like to learn great art of Mother Russia!" Draco paled and shook his head the slightest bit.
"What would that be, Master Mathias?" Harry asked as he wondered what Draco knew.
"Why, the art of the dance, of course." Dance? "Ballet, to be precise." Ballet? Harry resisted dropping to his knees. He would beg, but not on his knees.
"Please, Master Mathias, anything but that." Mathias gave a pleased little smirk and stroked his chin as he looked between the two boys. Draco, Mikhail, was nodding in agreement. It looked like ballet would have to wait.
"Very well." Both seemed to relax. "You will help Usmeshka brew potions in the kitchen tomorrow." A surly yet petulant voice came from the hallway.
"Why am I the one being punished?" Snape demanded of the three in the room. "I come up here to see what the noise is about, and now I find myself being stuck with the consequences of their actions." Mathias turned to Snape, gave him a superior look, and dismissed him with a sniff and a lazy wave of his hand.
"You need punished for that greasy hair of yours, Usmeshka."
Harry swore under his breath as he realized that he had added just a little too much Monk's hood. That wouldn't do anything too bad, right? He got his answer as large streams of potion shot out of the cauldron.
"Potter!" Snape rushed from his own cauldron and banished Harry's ruined attempt. "Did I not tell you that only exact measurements would prevent an explosion?"
"Yes, you did, but-"
"No buts, Potter. You did not follow my instructions. You obviously think yourself very smart. After all, I'm just the Potions Master. What do I know about safety in brewing?"
Harry knew that he had really screwed up, but Snape did not have to be so sarcastic, did he?
"Why should the Boy-Who-Lived care about the safety of others in his proximity? He never has before!" Harry looked up and noticed he had the same feelings he had felt when he blew up Aunt Marge.
"I cannot believe that the man who killed Dumbledore is worried about someone else's well-being. He was defenseless!" Harry didn't see the hit coming, but it was hard enough to rattle his teeth and make him loose his balance. Old instincts kicked in as Harry put as much distance between him and his attacker. He scooted backwards across the floor, clawed his way up the wall to find his feet. He did not see Snape in front of him, but a long dismissed aggressor. Harry followed his instincts in that situation. He ran. He ran to the one man he felt could intimidate even the Dark Lord…the man who loved the dark.
He knew the consequences but did not care. Death would be better than returning to abuse. He took the stairs as fast as he dared, feeling his way as darkness surrounded him. He heard someone sniff the air.
"Boy." Harry knew that voice. It was the first time he had not felt nervous hearing Mathias speak. He was safe now.
"Why are you bleeding?" Good question.
"Um…I messed up. Snape and I argued. He hit me." Mathias snapped his fingers. Harry blinked as a thousand candles lit at once. He walked over to Harry and grabbed him firmly, yet gently, by the chin. Mathias' eyes seemed to cloud with rage as he looked over Harry's injury.
"He. Made. You. Bleed." Harry and Mathias appeared in the kitchen in the next instant. Mathias pushed Harry behind him as he turned to Severus. Snape seemed to cower when he saw Mathias' incensed expression.
"How dare you hurt your child." Mathias threw a rather large bottle of vodka at Snape's head. The man ducked just in time. The bottle hit the stone wall of the old kitchen and shattered. Harry noticed a rather frightening dent where the bottle had hit and shuddered, knowing that the dent could have easily been in Snape's head.
"I'm sorry, sir." Snape said, glancing behind him at the bottle fragments.
"I have taught you better than this…I should disown you." Snape's face became a bit paler than normal.
"I'm truly sorry, Father. I'll accept whatever punishment you deem sufficient." Harry actually believed the sincere remark. Mathias stalked up to Severus and stared at him. Mathias made a quick movement and Harry watched as blood appeared on both of Snape's cheeks. Another quick movement had Snape trapped by the throat.
"Let the scars be a reminder to you, Severus." Mathias growled in his face. Harry stepped forward.
"Grandfather?" The word did not reach above a whisper, but Harry knew Mathias could hear it. "Please?"
Mathias released Snape, stepped away, and knelt in front of Harry with a slight smile. He licked his thumb and gently touched Harry's split lip. He stood, ruffled Harry's hair, and turned to Snape. Harry touched his lip and found that Mathias had healed it. How?
Mathis stomped over to Snape, spit in his hand, smeared it over Snape's cheeks and stepped back. Harry watched as Snape's cuts healed. How did Mathias do that? Mathias mussed Snape's hair, grimaced at the grease, wiped his hand on his pant leg, and stomped out of the kitchen.
Snape seemed to be in his own world, staring off into space. "Well, I'm alive. I suppose that's the important part."