"Sir." Hydrus raised his eyebrow the way Lucius might, but Severus thought the gesture lacked the impact Lucius' would have had. "To what do we owe the unexpected pleasure of your visit?"
Draco, passing through the foyer behind Hydrus, glanced their way, and then stopped. June had become July and July had become August since that fateful day in Severus' office where Draco had revealed his plans to become a spy for the Dark Lord. Draco had stretched an inch or two taller in that time, his chin and cheekbones had grown sharper, and his hair, while not gelled back they way Hydrus' always was, was neatly styled. He looked older, and more like Lucius Malfoy's son than he had in a long time. These details were not what made Severus stare, though - it was the fact that when Draco noticed him, he practically beamed. The elder Malfoy boy cleared his throat, eyebrow climbing higher.
"Mr Malfoy," Severus said, dragging his attention away from Draco. "I wish to speak to your mother and father, if they're home."
Hydrus stepped back, pulling the door wide enough for Severus to enter.
"I'll take you to Father's study, if you'd like, Severus." Draco had waited, it seemed. His expression was neutral again, tone polite. Severus hoped Hydrus might argue with Draco and say he ought to escort Severus, since he'd been the one to open the door, but he didn't:
"You'll have to talk to Father at some point, you know."
"Not today," Draco replied. Hydrus curled his lip, then glanced at Severus.
"I'll inform them of your arrival."
"Thank you." Hydrus swept past Draco and upstairs.
"You and Lucius are no longer on speaking terms?" he asked. A sudden hope flared in him at the thought, and Severus was careful to keep it from showing in his expression.
"Hydrus believes we're still at each other's throats after the hippogriff incident." Draco's voice was soft so it wouldn't carry through the Manor, his eyes on his brother's retreating back. "Mother, Father, and I felt it was for the best." Severus' hope withered. Then, still quietly, Draco said, "It's nice to see you again, sir." He offered Severus a small smile that Severus couldn't return.
"Likewise," he said briskly. Draco's expression closed over.
"Busy holidays?"
Why haven't I visited, you mean.
"Extremely," Severus said. "Shall we?" He gestured at the hallway, and Draco turned and led the way to Lucius' office. When they arrived, Draco didn't leave as Severus had hoped; he came inside with Severus and perched on the edge of Lucius' desk. His body language was comfortable, making it clear he'd been spending a lot of time in the office of late; in the past, it had been strictly off limits to both Malfoy boys unless they were specifically invited inside, and both had always been rather nervous whenever they were. Draco shifted an inkwell and the heavy stamp Lucius used to decorate the wax seal on his more secretive letters to give himself more room.
"You needn't wait," Severus said. "I'm sure they'll be down shortly."
"My summer's been fine," Draco said. "Thank you for asking." Severus gave him an unimpressed look. Draco raised an eyebrow in reply, with far more impact that Hydrus' earlier attempt. "I've been here the whole time, obviously, except for my visit to you at the end of June. Potter, Weasley and Granger have been writing letters so I don't get too lonely, but otherwise I've been doing a lot of reading and spending a lot of time in my own head."
"I see," Severus said. "We'll have to resume your lessons when term begins, and see how your Occlumency's coming along." He didn't want to; if Draco was resolute in his decision to become a spy, then any further lessons would only make Draco a better tool for the Dark Lord to exploit. On the other hand, both Draco and the Dark Lord would surely find it suspicious if Severus ended the lessons the moment Draco declared his allegiance. Lessons would also give Severus a plausible excuse to dig around in Draco's mind. Perhaps, if he could find what had caused his sudden desire to serve the Dark Lord, Severus would know how to go about changing his mind…
"Looking forward to it," Draco said, after a moment. Severus didn't think he was lying, but otherwise didn't know what to make of his expression or his tone. "We're off to the Quidditch World Cup next week," he said after another moment, though Severus hadn't asked. "I'm looking forward to that. And sometime in the week following that I daresay we'll be off to Diagon Alley to retrieve our school supplies."
"I see."
"Severus," Lucius strode into the office with Narcissa behind him. "What an unexpected pleasure." Severus nodded to him, and to Narcissa, who didn't see it; she was glancing between Severus and Draco with sharp eyes. "Leave us, Draco."
Draco glanced at Severus, almost as if hoping he would protest, or invite him to stay. Severus met his stare and said nothing. Draco's expression went blank again and he slid off the desk.
"Mother, Father. Severus." He pulled the door shut behind him.
"I've heard of what he is to do," Severus said, once Draco's footsteps had faded away. "And I do not think him ready for such a task."
"We know," Narcissa said, taking him utterly by surprise; she, after all, was the one that had asked him to ensure Draco was ready for such a thing, when the time came for him to make a choice.
"Oh?" Severus said eloquently.
"Draco has kept us informed of his conversations with you," Lucius said.
"Do tell," Severus said. He took care to ensure his tone was smooth and a little wary, like he knew exactly what they were talking about. Draco had sent two letters after their conversation at the end of June that Severus had ignored, and Draco hadn't sent any since. Severus had kept himself holed up at Spinner's End where Draco couldn't reach him by Floo, and they'd not spoken again until that morning. As such, Severus was rather interested to hear more about these conversations he and Draco had apparently had.
"The Dark Lord remains uninformed about Draco's future involvement," Lucius said, rather grimly. Severus couldn't keep his expression smooth, but he was able to control it enough to ensure it looked questioning, rather than surprised. "Your point to Draco was a… reasonable one. Spies are not created overnight. He was… unimpressed by your suggestion that he currently lacks the skill and the resolve he'll need to succeed in this - quite unimpressed - but you're right, of course." Lucius' hand went - perhaps unconsciously - to his left sleeve. "The Dark Lord has plans this year. There is a possibility he would work Draco into them if he knew of Draco's decision, either to use him genuinely, or perhaps just to test him. Draco's current conviction is strong, but it is also impulsive - a Gryffindor's conviction. He's committed himself to this path believing he knows the risks and the realities, but knowing and seeing are two entirely different things."
"The Gryffindors may see through him," Narcissa said. "Or Dumbledore, or Sirius. Or his resolve may falter when he's back at school, surrounded by his little friends again. The Dark Lord would not be forgiving of either."
"No," Severus said, rather redundantly. He felt he had to say something, though.
"We're giving him a year," Lucius said. "To learn to lie, and hide his thoughts from Dumbledore or anyone else that might try to read them, and - though we hope it won't come to it - time to slip up, or change his mind before he's properly involved."
"Not that Draco will be told any of this," Narcissa said. "As far as he's concerned, he's already involved. Lucius will collect any relevant information he's able to gather and pass it on to the Dark Lord - but not as Draco's information. Lucius will set him tasks to complete too - tests. He will not be told about any of the Dark Lord's true plans until we are certain he is able to keep them to himself."
"The Dark Lord will see the sense in this, I'm sure," Lucius said.
It was better than Severus could have hoped for. He'd come today out of desperation, hoping to buy himself more time to work out what to do about Draco. He'd been planning to propose Christmas as a deadline, and had expected to have to fight for even that.
"You approve, then?" Narcissa's voice was light, but her eyes were sharp as ever.
"I do," Severus said. "I had… reservations when Draco first came to me with his plans. This conversation has put my mind at ease."
"What I don't understand," Narcissa said, eyes still flinty, "is why you didn't come to us with these reservations sooner, Severus. It's been over a month since Draco made his decision, and all we've heard from you on the matter is what Draco's seen fit to pass on, or, rather, complain about." She and Lucius shared a look that verged on long-suffering; clearly, Draco had been quite vocal about these thoughts that Severus apparently had.
"I feared our Lord's displeasure," Severus said. "I had assumed he already knew of Draco's newfound allegiance. To question Draco's readiness - to anyone other than Draco, that is - would have been to question the Dark Lord himself, and I did not feel confident enough in my standing with him to do so. The last time we met, he gave me this." He gestured to his fake leg. "I have not grown more confident in my standing with him in the time since, but my concern for Draco was too great to allow me to keep quiet any longer. It… relieves me to learn I am not alone in this."
Lucius looked relieved as well - doubtless because another of the Dark Lord's followers supported his plan - and nodded. Narcissa's expression was cool, considering.
She showed him out of the office, pausing in the corridor to rest a hand on his arm. Severus glanced at her.
"Your ability to put Draco first is why I came to you all those years ago," she said, voice barely more than a breath. "Never think I will condemn you for continuing to do so." Severus nodded jerkily and pulled his arm free- or tried to. She held firm, expression fierce. "You'll know better than any of us whether he's ready at the end of the year. You're around him at school, you have Dumbledore's ear, and more than that, you know your godson. If he's not ready, you need to tell me so that I can send him away."
Narcissa was a mother, emotional, weak - or at least, the Dark Lord would label her as such and because of that, forgive her for what she'd said if he were ever to learn of it. Severus would not be so lucky, and so there was really only one answer he could give:
"He'll be ready."
"Harry, dear!" Mrs Weasley bustled over to brush the soot from his shoulders and the straps of his rucksack, then pulled him into a tight hug. "My goodness, you've grown again - you're almost as bad as Ron; I swear every time I turn my back, he shoots up another inch."
"Padfoot reckons Kreacher's feeding me too much," Harry said, grinning.
"In my experience," Mrs Weasley said, eyes sparkling, "it's not possible to feed a fourteen year old boy too much." She turned suddenly, flicking her wand at the stove, and the pot bubbling there glowed yellow. "Speaking of, dinner'll be in about an hour, once Hermione gets here - a nice early one, so you can all get to bed on time, ready for the morning."
"Brilliant." Harry adjusted his rucksack. "Thanks again for letting me stay, and travel with you-"
"It's no trouble at all," Mrs Weasley said fondly. "Now, why don't you head upstairs and get settled-"
Harry heard footsteps and a heartbeat, then caught the faint scent of flowers a moment before Ginny bounded into the kitchen:
"Harry!" He smiled at her.
"Is your room clean?" Mrs Weasley asked.
"It's fine," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.
"Ginny-"
"Yes! I just tidied it." Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry when Mrs Weasley wasn't looking. "And put out a bed for Hermione," she added, before Mrs Weasley could say anything else. "Ron's upstairs in Bill and Charlie's room, if you're looking for him." Harry trailed out of the kitchen after her. Bill and Charlie were here at the moment - both Ron and Ginny had mentioned in their letters that they'd be coming to the World Cup with them - and their presence explained the unfamiliar scents on the stairs; Harry'd only met Charlie once - at Moony and Dora's wedding - and he hadn't ever met Bill.
They passed a window on the oddly quiet second floor landing; Fred and George's door was shut, and none of the normal bubbling or crackling or tinkling noises were audible behind it. Nor could Harry hear the twins' usual laughter.
As if on cue, a faint, familiar cackle drifted in through the open window, and Harry spotted four figures on brooms in the distant orchard. He'd been on a team with Fred and George long enough to be able to recognise them in the air, but he didn't know the other two, and ruled them out as friends of the twins when he saw the red hair.
"Bill and Charlie?" he asked, and Ginny glanced past him and nodded.
"So why's Ron…?"
"No idea," Ginny said, scowling. "Everyone here's a bit weird at the moment - the twins have been holed up in their room a lot, and really quiet - except for now, apparently - Percy's hardly here at all, and then Bill and Charlie are here and they're not weird, but it's sort of weird all being under the same roof again…"
Ginny led the way up to the third floor, then stopped and held a finger up to her lips. Harry slowed and watched her tiptoe across the landing to a slightly ajar door beside the bathroom that Harry had always assumed hid a linen cupboard. At her gesture, Harry crept across to join her.
There was a muffled thump inside the room a moment before Ginny flung the door open.
"Harry!" Ron said. He was standing in the narrow space between two twin beds with empty hands and a sheepish scent. Ginny huffed.
"Hey," Harry said bemusedly.
"When'd you get here?"
"I've been here all summer," Ginny said.
"I wasn't talking to you," Ron muttered. She pulled a face at him, but was looking curiously around the room, clearly trying to work out what Ron might have been doing.
Harry looked around too, and then couldn't look away - like the rest of the Burrow, Bill and Charlie's room was a little cramped, but bursting with character; the bed on the right was unmade, had a vine of some sort growing above the headboard, and was surrounded by Quidditch posters, and photographs and sketches of various magical creatures - with dragons being the clear favourite. The desk against the wall opposite supported three empty wire cages, one empty tank, another plant, and a stack of yellowing newspapers.
The bed on the left was neatly made - or would have been, if not for the Ron-shaped indent on the edge of it - with a bursting bookshelf set into the wall beside it, and a bit of parchment with a very complicated drawing of a circle above it. The desk opposite that bed was also neat and held a small wooden box carved with runes, a rack of phials that looks like they held various different types of sands, stones and woods, more complicated drawings, and several spindly silver instruments that looked like they ought to be in Dumbledore's office.
"No idea what they do," Ron said, reaching out to touch the delicately balanced arm of one. It made a soft dinging sound, like a tiny bell, then - Harry wasn't entirely sure how - folded itself into a cube. Ron studied his finger, an oddly thoughtful expression on his face.
"What've you been doing in here?" Ginny had just enough chagrin in her scent for Harry to know she must have asked before and had no luck in finding out.
"None of your business, nosy," Ron said.
"I bet Harry's curious too, aren't you, Harry?" Ginny turned and gave him a pleasant look. He was, but for Ron's sake he just shrugged. Ginny's eyes narrowed.
"Fine," she said, and stalked out. Harry watched her go.
"She's not actually mad, is she?" he asked; Ginny wasn't the type to hold back, so he thought he'd know if she was, but still…
"Nah," Ron said. "Just trying to make us feel bad so we'll tell her." He tugged Harry's rucksack off Harry's shoulder and slung it over his own, heading out onto the landing.
"So what were you doing?" Harry asked, following Ron upstairs. There was a moment of silence, just long enough that he thought Ron might not answer. Then:
"Reading." Ron's tone was reluctant. If it weren't for his scent - a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort - Harry might have thought he was joking. When Harry didn't immediately say anything, Ron's shoulders went stiff and his scent turned defensive, like he was expecting Harry to take the mickey.
"Okay," Harry said. Then, before he could help himself: "Why?"
The uncomfortable scent was back.
"Just... it's interesting."
"Well, yeah, I s'pose," Harry said. "For fun, or for homework or something?"
"It's not for homework," Ron said. He pushed open his bedroom door and the familiar orange of the walls greeted Harry. It was much the same as it had been the last time he was here - only about a week ago - but a new poster of Bulgaria's Viktor Krum had gone up above Ron's dresser. "I just… I'm sick of being useless, and curse breakers have to be really good at spells and magic and stuff, so I thought I'd see if Bill had any books that might be useful." He set Harry's rucksack down by the camp bed and flopped down onto his own.
"You're not useless."
"Well, I feel it sometimes," Ron said, staring up at the ceiling. "Figured I'd try and do something about it."
"Right," Harry said. He kicked off his shoes and settled on his own bed. "Well, if you want books, Grimmauld's got thousands. Padfoot wouldn't mind - he lets Hermione borrow them. She'd probably be able to tell you what ones are worth reading, too. Or if it's spells and stuff, Padfoot or Moony or Dora or Marlene'd probably be able to teach-"
"No," Ron said. "Books, maybe, but not the rest. I just- I want to give it a go on my own. For now, anyway."
"Is that why you don't want Ginny knowing?"
"Nah." Ron grinned. "It's just fun watching her try to work it out."
"And Hermione and Draco?"
"I talked to Malfoy a bit about it before the holidays," Ron said. "But not since, so he probably reckons I've forgotten or got over it. I haven't told Hermione. She'd never shut up about it if she found out I was reading in my spare time - she'd want to start a book club, where we could go over what we'd learned, and- well, she's brilliant; she'd just show me up the whole time, which'd sort of defeat the point of it all." Ron grinned in a self-deprecating sort of way.
"Draco and I could come too," Harry offered. "And we could deliberately not read the book beforehand, so you'd definitely be better than us." Ron snorted and threw a pillow at him. Harry tossed it back. "Have you heard from him lately? Draco, I mean."
"Yeah, yesterday." Ron rolled over and waved a hand at the messy desk. "I didn't bother writing back because we'll see him tomorrow, though. You?"
"Yeah, this morning," Harry said. "Do you think it's weird that the Malfoys are letting him write these holidays?"
"A bit, yeah," Ron said, as he had the other hundred times Harry had asked that question that summer. "Definitely unexpected, after everything with Buckbeak, but who knows how purebloods think…"
"You're a pureblood."
"Not a good one," Ron said. "Blood traitor, remember?"
"They're the best sort." Ron snorted, then straightened a little, peering out the window. "What?" Harry asked, unable to see anything from his bed on the floor.
"Hermione's here." Ron said. He laughed a little and scrambled to his feet. "Bloody hell, I hope it's her - Fred and George just swooped the car-"
Harry scrambled to join him at the window. Bill - or at least Harry assumed it was Bill, since he was fairly sure the stockier flying figure was Charlie - was shouting at the twins from his broom. They were hovering a few feet to the side of the Grangers' silver car; thankfully it was the Grangers - Harry recognised their faces through the front windscreen. The twins seemed to be enjoying themselves despite Bill's attempts to tell them off, and were waving and pulling faces at the back seat window - presumably where Hermione sat until-
"FRED! GEORGE!"
