Chapter twenty-eight: Slytherin alliance
"Weasley, stop smirking," Draco's frustrated drawl cut through the air of the conservatory, and Harry sighed, looking up at his lover. Ron had been smirking for days, ever since they'd… well, Harry could now understand why his lover liked their bed play so much, and if he hadn't been worried about hurting Ron by trying again so soon they'd be upstairs and hard at it. Of course, it was annoying to be smirked at if you didn't understand the reasoning behind it, and Draco had been on the wrong end of the smirk for days now. Draco preferred to be the smirk-er not the smirk-ee and was that even a word? He was drawn from his musing once more when Draco slammed his trowel onto the bench they were potting at.
"Weasley!" the drawl was deserted in favour for a sharp tone with a lot of volume behind it.
"I heard you the first time Malfoy," Ron's voice was mild, a sure sign that his temper was simmering below the surface. Harry had learned about that tone back before they'd become lovers. He'd also learned how to blend into the furniture while Ron and Hermione - the usual person that elicited that tone - blew up at each other.
"I know you heard me!" Draco's voice was rapidly tending towards shrill, "What bothers me is that you ignored me! As always! I may be here under sufferance, and dependent on your good will, but even prisoners in Azkaban have more rights than I!"
"What sufferance?" Ron's voice was also rising in volume, though Harry was happy to hear his friend stay away from the shrill tone that the fuming blonde had just treated them to, "When have we told you that you were under sufferance? We've bent over backwards for you Malfoy! Invited you time and again to join in, asked you to come along with us! We've respected your privacy and done our best to ensure you were as comfortable as we could make you! What more do you want? Elf service? We don't have one! Better food? We all eat the same things! You've no right to compare this house to Azkaban!"
"Oh yes, you want me around! As the butt for your jokes!" Malfoy was getting quite red in the face Harry mused, and his grey eyes were wild. Snape's shadow appeared in the passage, but Harry didn't draw attention to that fact. He had a feeling that the row Snape had been hoping for was about to ensue.
"It was a prank war! We were all under attack!" Ron snapped, "Get over yourself! You're not in Slytherin now you know! Just about everyone in this house was sorted into Gryffindor, which means we all muck in together, not sit around expecting preferential treatment according to some Blood related pecking order!"
That was a pretty good analysis of the House of Slytherin right there, Harry mused, even as Draco snorted. Draco had initially had a hard time settling in, mainly because he seemed o be expecting a certain amount of deference, and that wasn't how Sirius and Moony worked. Adults had a certain rank, but Sirius rarely acted like an adult, and Moony didn't seem to mind that he was treated as one of the lads instead of as a Professor. That was different during lessons, but there they acted as they had in Hogwarts by unspoken agreement.
Draco was breathing heavily, his hair now as wild as his eyes from where he'd run his hands through it.
"Look Draco," Ron lowered his voice through an effort of will that Harry admired, "I know that you don't want to be here…"
"You don't know anything! I don't have anywhere else to go! How can you possibly understand the effort it takes to live everyday with people who could throw you away on the slightest whim! The effort to maintain perfect manners, perfect poise and presence! All because if you don't you'll end up driven out, and that would lead surely to a painful and lingering death!"
"We'd never…" Harry breathed in horror, "Malfoy…"
"What!!" Draco shrieked and Harry at last saw the pain and uncertainty that the blonde had successfully been hiding for so long from everyone but Professor Snape. Harry wasn't so far removed from the Dursley's that he couldn't remember the torment of living on a constant knife-edge. This had to stop, and now.
"Professor Snape came to see us, to ask that we shelter you here to keep you from being forced into the Death Eaters ranks. And we agreed to do it, because we trusted him to have judged correctly that you wouldn't betray us. By keeping you here we run the risk that you will decide to go over to Voldemort anyway, and yet we still invite you to join in, we still let you hang around. We don't expect perfection. We never did. And we're not perfect either."
Ron's voice was steady and calm. There was no room left for doubt in his tone, and Harry could see the wildness slowly fade from Draco's face.
"At first it was a chore to remember to invite you. Now its not. No one is that polite, Draco, not even on behalf of Professor Snape," Ron continued, a wry grin on his face, "And we didn't hold your refusals against you. Everyone needs time alone."
"Not you and Potter," the words were low and wistful. Harry laughed. They were a couple and they were in love but that didn't mean they didn't get irritated with each other now and then. He and Ron spent time apart from each other; they had to. Too much time together would lead to rows and bickering.
"I can't tell you the number of times I've snuck off for some peace and quiet," he told the blonde, "Or Ron has. We're not so different, Draco."
"What's with the names, Potter?" Draco sneered and Harry sighed.
"Just trying to be friendly, Malfoy," he replied in an even tone, "Gryffindors do that."
"I'm not a Gryffindor," Malfoy snapped, a familiar light in his eyes.
"I don't know," Ron interrupted in a drawl, "I'd say it was pretty courageous of you to go against the wishes of your family and the Dark Lord. It was fairly brave of you to reveal to Snape that you didn't want to serve someone that was supposed to be his master. Gryffindor qualities, Malfoy."
Harry had to turn away to prevent himself from bursting into laughter. Malfoy looked like someone had just stuffed something rough and knobbly where the sun doesn't shine. He glanced up and met the glittering black eyes of their resident Potions Master, who nodded once to him and faded away into the shadows.
The retorts and bickering behind Harry had a tentative sound to it. Untrained ears would think it was a continuation of the constant round of fights from Hogwarts, but Harry could hear it for what it was. Ron had missed a bickering partner, and Malfoy loved to make little jibes and asides. They had found the perfect sparring mate in each other - Harry hated bickering with his lover and his past with Malfoy was too complex to risk bickering with the teen at the moment. Perhaps one day they would be able to engage in this verbal version of chess that Malfoy and Ron were beginning, but for now Harry was pleased to let the two of them battle it out. He knew at the end of the day both would feel better for it.
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"Harry, can I have a word?" James' voice was an unwelcome intrusion on his homework, but Harry got up immediately, schooling his face into a polite mask for his father. Their relationship had not improved over the past few weeks, but Sirius had helped Harry come to terms with that. Their Saturday sessions were still mandatory, even though his godfather had recovered beyond the point where he needed a nap. Harry still sat at his feet and rested against his leg, or if the teen were particularly distraught he would lie on the couch with his head in Sirius lap. This allowed them to be in contact but not eye contact - Harry found it easier to tell secrets if he wasn't looking someone in the face.
James led the way to the front parlour, and Harry smiled when he saw Dumbledore there. He was glad to see the older man who was the head of the family Harry had constructed. If he had to put a name on the role 'grandfather' would fit nicely.
"My boy," Dumbledore held his arms out and Harry let himself be folded into a hug. He smiled into the scratchy beard as Dumbledore chuckled and clutched the warm velvet robes in both hands. The man inside the robes seemed a little thinner to Harry, though he could still sense the power coming from his mentor.
"I missed you," Harry confessed quietly, "How are you, sir?"
"I'm quite well Harry," was the comforting reply, "Though I wish that I had better news to bring you today."
Harry sighed and let the Headmaster settle him onto the couch, sitting close but letting the elderly Wizard get to the point. He knew his grandfather was busy, between his duties to Hogwarts and the Wizengamot, but that didn't mean he couldn't wish they could have more time to see each other, or at least be able to see each other when there wasn't an emergency.
"Ok, what is it?" Harry smiled at the blue eyes, and caught quite clearly the moment they became sad.
"Ah my boy, if only you didn't have the experience to ask that question," the Headmaster murmured, "We ask so much of you Harry."
"I don't mind if you're the one asking," Harry smiled, gathering a wrinkled hand in his, "We may not always see eye to eye, sir, but I'll do my best for you."
"You always have," Dumbledore agreed, squeezing Harry's hand in gratitude, "You have assumed the role life handed you with far more maturity than most would manage."
"What does the Minister want then?" Harry delighted in the chuckles that comment garnered, though it was no feat of logic to assume that the Minister was once again pressuring for something that he could claim public credit for.
"Quite simply Harry, he wants to see you. He would very much like you to attend a Ministry function with your parents. There would be dinner and dancing, much like the Yule Ball," blue eyes twinkled when Harry pulled a face.
"I can't dance," he protested, though he said nothing about attending this function as yet, "What is the Ministry function for? If it's about getting Fudge re-elected then I may have to revise my decision to help out."
"Actually Harry, its about recognising those students who study magic outside the formally recognised instructional institutions," James interrupted and Harry slanted a neutral glance at his parent, "Fudge feels that as the best known student receiving private instruction it would benefit his cause to have you there."
"He's trying to undermine Hogwarts by pointing out that the Boy Who Lived is not there and doing just fine, thank you very much," Harry cut through the political speak with the ease of practice, and Dumbledore chuckled at him, squeezing the hands that still held his. The thought that this child would come to him for comfort and guidance was one that he cherished, and not because he knew that in the future Harry would be an influential person. The Boy Who Lived had once had very few comforters in his life, and the Headmaster had been honoured to be accepted as one so early on.
"He is," Dumbledore nodded, "But that is not why I would ask you to consider going."
"What are you plotting now?" Harry asked in a resigned tone and beamed when the Headmaster actually laughed at him, pleased to garner that reaction from the man who bore so many burdens. Lily looked scandalised that he would speak so, and then confused at the Headmasters reaction. As she didn't really know either of them that well that was understandable. His parents still hadn't made a consistent effort to understand and accept his family and Harry had pretty much given up trying to explain it to them. He no longer avoided them, but nor did he seek them out.
"I'm plotting, as you so aptly put it Harry, to have you go the dinner," Dumbledore chuckled again, "Any posturing to be done, will be done by the Minister or myself."
"You just want me there to lend credence to your argument, but you don't want me giving rehearsed answers," Harry divined and Dumbledore sobered, nodding and meeting his eye, "Sort of as a stalking horse."
"Unfortunately, yes," Dumbledore's voice was quiet and level, "I wish I didn't have to do this dear boy, and I wish that there was someone else I could ask…"
"I understand," Harry smiled reassuringly, "And at least I'll have a night out. It can be a bit stifling stuck in here day in and day out. Ron and Malfoy can have a proper chess match and keep each other company and Professor Snape can have that competition he dared Sirius to."
"I don't think I want to know," Dumbledore mused, and Harry grinned. They'd be brewing Pepper Up at three times the normal strength and then testing it on each other. Hyperactive did not begin to cover the expected reactions, but for some reason neither man would do it in front of Harry. Moony wasn't too worried about it - in fact he'd be there to ensure they didn't hurt themselves - so Harry wasn't too fussed. He had a sneaking suspicion that their reactions would be a bit like being extremely drunk.
"And what if we don't want to put Harry through that?" James spoke up and Harry rolled his eyes.
"You can stay here if you want," he pointed out, "Though that might make it tricky for us. You have no say in my attendance. I will go to the ball."
That comment got another chuckle from the venerable Headmaster, and Harry grinned back. He wasn't sure if he believed Ron when he insisted that the tale of Cinderella was actually an old case file from the Aurors records of violations of the Muggle secrecy act, but it did make some sort of sense.
After all, he'd transfigured mice into horses himself.
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