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Chapter 31: On Contrary Compliments

Severus Snape watched on, his face a mask of indifference, as his son's bones were crushed, his breath cut short.

"Mrs. Weasley," gasped Harry, "can't breathe."

"Sorry, dear," said an abashed Mrs. Weasley, slowly releasing Harry from her death grip.

The Death Eaters who had attacked Hogwarts had been sent to the Ministry for trial. They would get a trial, as Arthur Weasley had most likely been installed as Minister by this time. Lucius Malfoy was among those captured. He had aimed the Killing Curse at Tonks, but an owl from his son had unintentionally intercepted it.

Ironic, it was. Though that seemed to often be the case in war.

Severus glanced around the Headmaster's office where too many people for his liking were currently gathered: most of the Order, most of the Weasley Clan.

Tonks still looked a bit dazed. Severus didn't blame her.

Severus made his excuses and left. He didn't like these types of gatherings.

And he needed to go speak to Draco.

Severus rapped twice on the door to Draco's room, and was awarded with the sight of one very dejected blond youth.

"Draco," said Severus, his voice even. "I have a number of items of news to discuss with you."

Draco motioned for Severus to enter. This was not going to be easy.

When the two were settled in Draco's room, Severus began.

"Your father has been captured, Draco," said Severus.

"I gathered as much, Professor." The boy had apparently been doing some snooping.

"Draco, it is unlikely that your father will be released this time, without Minister Fudge's influence," Severus continued.

"I know," said Draco. "And I am the one to thank for that," Draco added bitterly.

"You could not have known what would come of your actions, Draco," said Severus sternly.

Draco didn't seem to believe him, for which Severus could not blame him. Severus knew that Draco had received his father's letter, and handed it over. He had sent his owl to cover up his treasonous behavior. Severus, of course, could not let on that he knew this. To do so would raise altogether to many questions.

Draco's eyes were shut. Whether they were shut in pain or guilt, Severus could only guess. It was probably both. Malfoys prided themselves on being Malfoys above all else, and Draco had just handed his father over to the Ministry. Not to the dementors: those would go, and a loathsome powerful enemy they would surely prove.

"Draco," said Severus softly. Pain-filled eyes met his.

Severus took out a letter from his pocket. He handed it to Draco.

Father,

I await your instructions.

Your son,

Draco

Draco looked up at Severus with fear in his eyes. No doubt, he expected to be blamed for Lucius's capture, to be suspected of treachery. How Severus wished he didn't have to play a double role right now.

"I have pulled some strings for you, Draco." If nothing else, Severus would maintain the boy's trust. "I can do nothing of the fact that it was your owl that intercepted your father's curse, but no one will speak of any letter having been carried by that owl. As far as the Ministry investigation is concerned, you had no part in any of this."

Draco looked up, suddenly hopeful. The letter would have raised suspicions. Severus was offering Draco a way to bow out of the fiasco utterly. His deceptions would not come to light, his culpability would be forever buried. Narcissa would have blamed her son, Severus knew. She was that type.

"Thank you," said Draco, his sincerity evident in his eyes.

"You are quite welcome, Draco," said Severus. "I suggest you keep a low profile for the rest of the evening."

Draco nodded. Severus left.

The strain of the day had not yet left Severus's bones.

Severus wished he could say more to the boy, he wanted to tell him that he was proud of him for what he had done, what he had risked, but Severus himself had already risked much. He had probably already raised questions in Draco's mind as to why he wasn't turning Draco over to the Dark Lord. Draco would assume that Severus at least suspected that something was amiss: the Death Eaters were a notoriously suspicious bunch. So why had he not acted?

Hopefully, Draco would believe it was because Severus was his Professor and Head of House, and so had protected him. Severus hoped that that was not a fools hope.

But isn't all hope for fools? asked the voice in Snape's head. It would come back today, wouldn't it?

Oh, shut up! Snape was not in any mood to deal with this.

Severus went next door to his chambers. Why the Headmaster had thought it would be a good idea to house Harry Potter to his one side and Draco Malfoy to his other was beyond him. Well, they do both require constant supervision, Snape thought snidely to himself.

Severus poured himself a glass of firewhisky and took a much needed sip.

He was proud of Harry though. The boy had stayed put. He would not have thought it possible.

Severus sat down in his armchair by the fire, in need of some relaxation. He hadn't been in his own rooms since the morning of the day before. Snape took off his shoes in order to replace them with slippers, only to find a pair of gloves wear his slippers should have been.

Snape frowned. Paranoid as he was, even Snape realized that this was not the work of an intruder with malicious intent.

But who could get in here? Snape wondered.

Dumbledore could gain entry, of course, but this was not his style. The Headmaster would have turned his quills into daisies or some other such nonsense. Potter couldn't get in... but this had his fingerprints all over it. Ah, but revenge would be sweet.

Snape made a mental note to improve the wards protecting his rooms the next day.

As Severus was contemplating the various forms of torture he could subject Harry to, there was a knock on the door. Snape sighed. What could Albus want now?

Snape opened the door, ready to grumble at the Headmaster. Only it wasn't the Headmaster at the door, it was the object of Snape's earlier fantasies of torture.

"Potter," said Snape in surprise. "What on earth are you doing here?"

The boy shifted from one foot to the other. "Er, I just wanted to see if you were alright, Professor."

Snape lifted an eyebrow. "You just saw me in the Headmaster's office. I have not been attacked by any portraits or suits of armor in the interim." What was the boy on about.

"Right. Er. I'll be going then," said Harry.

Shaking his head in bemusement, and ready to shut the door, Snape noticed that Harry seemed hesitant to leave.

"Was there anything else?" asked Snape, utterly confused by the boy's behavior. And why was he wearing those ridiculous Muggle clothes?

"Well, no, I just," blabbered the boy.

Snape sighed, and opened the door further. "Why don't you come in while you regain the power of speech," said Snape.

"Er, sure, thanks," continued the boy in his ever-so-eloquent manner.

Snape smirked as Harry entered, looking around his comfortable, elegant surroundings in obvious surprise.

"Well, what did you expect?" asked Snape snidely. "Pickled toads and bottles of Bubotuber Pus?" The boy was altogether too easily read.

"Er, of course not, Professor, sorry," stammered Harry. What was up with the boy?

"Indeed," said Snape. "And you may dispense with the formalities for the time being," Severus added. It had been a stressful day, and the boy was his son.

"Right, thanks," said Harry.

"Sit down," said Snape, indicating the black leather sofa. "Would you like some tea while you are here? Firewhisky? An exceptionally strong calming draught, perhaps?"

Harry smiled his appreciation at Snape's attempt to lighten the mood, though he still seemed nervous. Now Snape's curiosity was piqued. What in the name of Merlin was this about?

"Tea would be great, thanks," said Harry.

Snape obliged, brewing a mellow white tea flavored with persimmon. After a moment's thought, Snape added a few drops of a tasteless calming potion which he happened to have in his possession into the mug. It helped, keeping such things in one's robes.

Snape handed the mug to the boy and sat back down in his favorite armchair, off to the side of the couch. He had a clear view of Harry's profile, while the boy looked straight ahead, not meeting Snape's gaze.

Snape gave the boy a few minutes to gather his thoughts before becoming impatient. The boy sipped his tea, visibly relaxing as he did so.

Now that the boy was less tense, Snape decided to take the initiative.

"Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Snape half-sneered.

"I don't think I'm quite sure," said Harry, ignoring Snape's snippiness, his face betraying his confusion. Calming draughts loosened lips, but if one hadn't knowledge of what one wanted to say, the potion was utterly useless.

Sighing, Snape picked up his glass of firewhisky once again. Getting anything out of the boy was going to prove to be an arduous task indeed.

Just as Snape was ready to admit defeat and send Harry off, the boy spoke up again.

"Today, when everything was going on and I had no idea what was happening," Harry paused, apparently deciding what it was he was trying to articulate. "I got to thinking," Snape withheld the snide remark that sprung to the tip of his tongue at that statement. "And I wanted to tell you that I respect you, and I don't hold your treatment of me against you. We don't know what will happen during this war, and I don't want something to happen to either of us without my having said that. That's all, I think," said Harry.

Snape suppressed the urge to rub at his temples. This was going to be more difficult than he had initially thought. How was he supposed to respond to that? He didn't think that saying, 'thank you, and you're not completely insufferable' would quite do.

"Thank you, Harry. And thank you for staying in your rooms today, it saved us all a lot of concern and trouble." Snape was fully aware that in giving Harry those instructions he had done so as the child's father, not his professor, not as an Order member. Snape was fully aware of the fact, and utterly unwilling to investigate its implications. Not tonight, at any rate.

"I am proud of you for that. And you're not completely insufferable." Snape couldn't help adding that last bit, a smile playing at his lips as he did so.

Harry smiled back. He was quite aware that that was likely the closest thing to a compliment the feared potions master was capable of.