A/N: As always, a special thanks to Sansa who is a selfless beta and wonderful friend. Let's all heap praise on Sansa! She deserves it.
Pesky legal disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K.R., her assigns, agents, licensees and all others to whom she grants her wonderful dispensation. Sadly, I am not on that list, nor do ever expect to be. I write this purely for fun and guilty pleasure and make no money from this.
CHAPTER 8:YEAR OF THE DRAGON
Ten-year-old Harry eyed the post sitting in the middle of the dining table with ill-concealed glee and curiosity. The neat black script on the fronts of the thick, creamy envelopes made the mundane names "Harry Potter" and "Dudley Dursley" seem almost regal. Who had sent him post? And to Dudley as well? He nibbled his toast, too excited to eat more than a few bites. He wanted his letter!
"Father, please may I open my letter?" Dudley asked again in a piggish whine. His beady eyes had been darting between the post and his breakfast all morning.
"Not until after breakfast," Vernon said for the tenth time as he turned the page of the morning paper. "I say Petunia, did you read the story about this bloke running around stealing flower pots?" Vernon snorted. "Who in their right mind would steal a flower pot? A potted one at that?"
"I want to open my letter. Now!" Dudley demanded as he thumped his meaty fists on the table.
Vernon peered from behind the paper. "I was trying to read, Dudders," he said before sighing and gesturing towards the letters, "Fine, fine."
Dudley leapt for his, snatching it away and sending Harry's skittering across the table where it landed in the butter dish. Harry fought the urge to remove it.
Vernon eyed Harry as Dudley ripped open his letter and tossed the envelope behind him. "I suppose you'll be wanting to open your letter as well?"
Harry nodded.
"Fine, fine," he said before ruffling the pages of the paper and returning to the engrossing, hard-hitting journalism about the Mum Marauder.
Harry plucked his letter from the butter dish and carefully wiped the corner on his napkin. Unlike Dudley, Harry examined his letter for quite some time before prising open the flap with his index finger. Not paying attention to the chatter at the end of the table, he withdrew the heavy cardstock inside. There was a beautiful dragon dancing across the top of the card, breathing fire and almost appearing to move. Harry scanned it quickly. It was an invitation to Draco's eleventh birthday party in two weeks time. Harry drew his fingers across the fancy lettering and smiled.
"Boring," Dudley huffed before dropping the invitation on the table and retuning to his grapefruit half.
"Now, now, Duddekins," Petunia muttered as she examined the invitation with a slight frown. She looked over at Harry. "I assume you got the same, then?" she said as she gestured towards the invitation.
Harry nodded.
Petunia sighed. "Well, Dudders, we'll have to find Draco an extra special gift. It's not everyday that a young man turns eleven."
Dudley grunted as he finished his grapefruit and eyed Harry's remaining piece of toast.
Seeing this, Harry pulled his little plate of toast towards him and curled his arm around it, protecting it, as he glared at Dudley.
Sighing, Dudley's gaze swung back to the invitation. He swiped it from Petunia's loose grip and fisted it with his meaty hands, creasing the edges. He squinted and silently sounded out a few of the words. "Tempus? Lo-locus? What kind of funny words are those? What do they mean?" Dudley muttered.
"It's Latin, Dudley. Tempus means time. Locus means location," Harry said, hiding his smirk behind his own invitation.
Dudley peered at him with his squinty little eyes before tossing the invitation over his shoulder. "Figures that a little freak like you would know that. And, that your freaky little friend would send a birthday party invitation written in Latin." Dudley snorted.
Harry ignored him and focused on his invitation, excited to be included, not paying attention to conversation about the Mum Marauder or what kind of expensive gift an eleven-year-old boy might like.
ssssssssssssssss
"You get the invitation?" Draco asked as he and Harry trudged down the street to the park.
"Yeah. Thanks!" Harry said, beaming.
"Did you like it? Mum picked it out," Draco said, keenly interested in what his friend thought. As of late, Draco had become rather self-aware of what people thought of him and his choices, of what Harry thought.
"It was brilliant. I loved the dragon across the top. Dudley didn't understand the Latin," Harry said with a conspiratorial giggle.
"Figures," Draco said with a waggle to his eyebrows. A curious weight lifted from him at the realization that Harry liked the invitation—thought it brilliant, even. "Uncle Severus sent the next lesson. Want to work on it with me? Can you stay the night?"
"I'll have to ask," Harry said. "But, yeah. Sure. I can't believe I'm learning Latin. For fun!"
"Yeah, well, that's Uncle Severus for you. He's always asking after you, you know."
Harry felt warmth bubble through him at the thought that someone asked after him. "Oh," he said.
"He's coming to the party, I think. Can you come?"
"Yeah. I think Aunt Petunia talked to your mum about it."
Draco nodded. "I'm glad you can come," he murmured. "Mum's getting chocolate éclairs. Just for you!"
Harry stopped short. "Just for me?" he said.
Draco cocked his head. "Yeah. Considering you ate almost all of them the last time!" Draco laughed as Harry colored.
"Shut it. Your mum said I could have as many as I wanted."
"And you did, didn't you? Who knew such a skinny brat like you could put away an entire box of éclairs?"
"I'm a growing boy," Harry defended with a sniff.
"And you made all of those funny sounds," Draco continued, imitating Harry's moaning with great exaggeration.
Harry's lips pursed. "Yeah, well how about you and those stupid rocks we found last week?" Harry's brow arched. "Oh, Harry! Do you think it's treasure?" he imitated in a high-pitched voice while wringing his hands under his chin.
"Hey! I don't sound like that," Draco spat. The image was ruined, though, as he started laughing. "And, at least I don't make all those funny sounds when I eat chocolate!"
Harry reached over to push him, his lips still pursed, but his eyes danced with amusement. Draco skittered away, still laughing. He continued imitating Harry as Harry chased him down the street, trying to get in a good push or tickle. Draco retaliated, and soon both boys were laughing and chasing each other as they ran the rest of the way to the park.
They spent the afternoon building forts, playing a few short games of tag and making curious piles of sticks for reasons known only to young boys. They rounded out the day on the swing set as the afternoon waned and families packed up and left the park.
"Hey, Draco. How come you haven't had a party before this?" Harry asked while his feet traced the ruts in the ground beneath him.
Draco shrugged. "Had them all the time when I was younger. After Dad . . ." Draco shrugged again. "Just didn't, I guess."
Harry nodded.
"What about you? Why haven't you had a birthday party?" Draco asked as he swiveled in a lazy side-to-side motion.
Harry shrugged. "Dunno," he lied.
"It is because you get sick a lot? Having all those kids over, I mean?" Draco asked in a low voice. It was rare that he asked Harry about what was wrong with him. He wasn't sick that often and always seemed to come through it fine, so Draco saw no reason to ask too many questions.
"Hmm," Harry said in response, letting Draco believe what he wanted.
"When is your birthday, anyway?" Draco asked. "It's in the summer, I know. Mum and I always just sort of guess."
"July thirty-first," Harry blurted, staring down at the ground.
"July thirty-first," Draco repeated. "I'll have to remember that. That's only four months away. Maybe we can have a party for you this year, yeah? You and me, Mum, Uncle Severus, Pansy. Oh, and your relatives of course," Draco hastened to add.
Harry smiled. "Sure," he said.
"Come on, let's go," Draco said with a sigh as he hoisted himself from the swing. He held out his hand to Harry. "Mum will be wondering where we are."
ssssssssssssssssssss
Harry peeked around the corner of the living room as Petunia fretted over several brightly packaged toys. It was the day before Draco's birthday party and Petunia was still trying to decide on the perfect gift for Draco from Dudley.
"Popkins?" Petunia called. "Which of these do you think Draco would like better?"
Dudley sighed, heaved himself from the couch and lumbered into the kitchen. He gave a cursory glance at the two gifts Petunia held up and shrugged. "It doesn't matter," he said before returning to the couch.
Petunia frowned, eyed the two gifts and decided on the more expensive one. "This one, then," she said, shaking it in Dudley's general direction.
With great effort, Dudley raised his head and looked at the gift Petunia had chosen. "Whatever," he said before turning back to his program.
Harry sighed. He knew that the other gift would go back to the store—there would be no brightly wrapped gift from Harry, courtesy of the Dursleys, anyway. It didn't matter, though, because Harry was prepared.
With a little bit of creative procurement, he'd come up with the perfect gift for Draco. He'd drawn a "genuine" treasure map—complete with clues—on a piece of crumpled parchment he'd swiped from the bin beside the Dursley's secretary. Mrs. Malfoy had given him an old lidded tin, which he'd sprayed gold with some old paint he'd found in the Dursleys' garage. The science teacher at school had planned on chucking a number of semi-precious stones—azurite, fool's gold, quartz—but, Harry had convinced him to give them to him instead. He'd put the stones in the tin and, with Mrs. Malfoy's help, buried the little treasure chest in the back garden of Draco's house. He'd torn and scuffed the edges of the parchment before rolling it and tying it with a spare bit of ribbon he'd found among his aunt's gift-wrapping supplies.
He couldn't wait to give it to Draco, his closest friend. His only friend, really. In the almost three years they'd been friends Harry had gotten to know Draco well—well enough that he'd almost told his deepest secrets. But, he never did. He didn't think Draco would understand about his family. And, it wasn't like he was ever hurt badly, well not that often, anyway. Loads of kids had it far worse than he did.
The slam of the front door startled Harry. He heard the cranky grumbling before he actually saw his uncle. Determined to stay out of his way, Harry darted into the hall, intending to make it up the stairs before Vernon had a chance to waddle further. His timing was horrific, however, and he managed to crash into Vernon instead. Vernon fell backward into the wall, knocking over the umbrella stand in the process, while Harry bounced against the other wall and started to fall.
"Why, you ungrateful little freak," Vernon hissed as he righted himself. He grabbed Harry by the shoulder, pulled him up and shook him hard.
"Sorry," Harry murmured, trying to twist away.
Vernon gripped harder, causing Harry to wince and cry out.
"You'll be sorry when I'm through with you," Vernon said as he raised his hand to backhand Harry across the face.
"Don't," a voice cried out.
Both Harry and Vernon looked up in surprise.
"Let him go, Vernon," Petunia said. "Up to your room, boy, and stay there until I call for you," she snapped at Harry.
He nodded and the second Vernon's grip loosened, he shot up the stairs and ran to his room. He had no idea what possessed his aunt to stop his uncle from hitting him, but he was grateful for small favors.
When she heard the door to Harry's room close, Petunia went to the living room, whispered something in Dudley's ear, gave him a number of five-pound notes and watched him leave the house before turned back to a bewildered Vernon.
"What's gotten in to you?" Vernon roared, once the house was quiet. His face was purple with rage. His hands were tightly fisted at his side.
Most people would have stepped back at such a sight. Petunia Dursley stepped forward. "I should ask the same thing. What happened? Why are you home so early?"
Vernon looked down and scuffed his shoes across the marbled carpeting. "That bint of a stockgirl, that's what. Made trouble—stupid management believed her pack of lies. Demoted me for six months. Right in front of the lads, too. And what do I come home to? That good for nothing boy ramming into me. He needs punished!"
Petunia's fingers brushed the left side of her neat French twist in irritation. Not only did the boy embarrass her, now her husband was as well. "Not today, Vernon. Find another way," she hissed.
"What are you on about? That boy deserves a sound thrashing, crashing into me the way he did. No manners, Petunia, that little freak has no manners. He must be taught."
"Not that way. Not this time."
Vernon puffed up even more and blustered as he stepped forward. When he failed to intimidate Petunia, he sagged and slumped against the wall. "You've never cared before, Pet. Why now?" he whined.
"Because he has to go to that bloody party at the Malfoys tomorrow, that's why!"
"But--"
"No, Vernon. NO. He can't get 'sick' and he can't have an 'accident.' There will be enough speculation about your . . . your demotion, thank you very much. We don't need more questions about the boy on top of it. Narcissa Malfoy is overly fond of him. She already suspects that something isn't right here—I'll not give her or anyone else in this neighborhood any ammunition. Need I remind you of that nearly disastrous conversation I had with her two years ago? She nagged me for months for the boy's doctor's information before finally giving up. Do you know how hard I work at keeping him out of sight after you've punished him? And, I know the boy deserves it, Vernon, so save your bluster. It's not our fault that he does everything wrong. And, it certainly isn't our fault that he bruises easily. But, not everyone understands. Too many questions, Vernon. I'll not have any questions here. Do you understand?"
"Fine," Vernon growled. "But he goes without dinner the rest of the week and he's given double chores. That boy needs to learn his place."
"Agreed," Petunia said.
"Keep him the bloody well out of my way, Petunia. Or, I won't be responsible for what happens to that cheeky little brat."
Petunia nodded.
Vernon stomped away, kicking the overturned umbrella stand as he did so. Once he'd settled in front of the telly, Petunia sighed in relief. She wasn't going to let that boy muck up her life more than he already had—even if it meant interfering with his well-deserved punishment. Appearances were everything in a town like Little Whinging and Petunia had a lot to cover.
sssssssssssss
Paper dragons danced in the light breeze as children ran about and adults stood off to the side. Green, gold, red, silver, blue—the dragons made for a splendid riot of color against the large, bland picnicking tent they festooned. The unseasonably warm weather had made a garden party ideal.
Harry, Dudley and Petunia were standing in the garden, taking all of it in, when Narcissa spotted them. "Ah, Petunia. How lovely to see you," Narcissa said with false sweetness. "Harry, Dudley, glad you could join Draco for his party."
"Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry murmured. Narcissa winked at him, causing Harry to blush and look away.
"Yes, thank you so much for inviting the boys to the party," Petunia said, as she dug her bony elbow into Dudley's side.
Dudley shook himself from his stupor. "Yeah, thanks," he said before toddling off to the refreshment table.
"Harry!" Pansy yelled as she ran up and grabbed him by the hand and began pulling him away. "Come sit with me," she whined. "The boys are running about and ruining my party dress."
"But, I'm a boy," Harry said, nonplussed at Pansy's insinuation. "Maybe I want to run around too."
Pansy rolled her eyes and tugged his hand. When he didn't move, she changed tactics. "Mrs. Malfoy? Your garden is lovely. Anything new planted? Say, by that little bench in the far corner?"
"Why yes, Pansy," Narcissa said, stifling a laugh at Pansy's obvious tactics. "I'm surprised you noticed, dear."
"Draco mentioned something about showing them to Harry later," Pansy said as Harry squinted and leaned forward, trying to make out what the new plants were.
Pansy squeezed his hand and batted her eyes. "Come tell me what they are, Harry?" she coaxed in a singsong voice.
"Erm, sure," he said as he smiled weakly at her before waving a quick goodbye to his aunt and Mrs. Malfoy.
Petunia sniffed in his direction but otherwise made no acknowledgment of his departure. She was too busy preparing for the battle of politely strained conversation in which she and Narcissa always seemed to engage. It was an odd relationship they shared—one based on mutual distrust and fear.
"Draco wondered if Harry could spend the night. I assume that won't be a problem?" Narcissa asked.
"Of course not," Petunia replied as she produced the brightly wrapped gift. "Where shall I put this? This is from Dudley," Petunia added.
Unfazed, Narcissa smiled, "Over there," she said, pointing to a table already groaning from the weight of presents. "Though, I daresay that Draco will like Harry's gift the best."
A hint of surprise flitted across Petunia's face. "I see," she said. "No wonder Harry refused to let me find a suitable gift for him to give."
"Yes, I'm sure that's it," Narcissa said.
"Are you sure Harry won't be a problem?"
"Of course not," Narcissa replied. "I've got some extra pajamas and things here just for him. We found some lovely things for him the other day—he's such a joy to shop for, don't you think? Always so polite—happy to have anything you give him. Strange, really."
Petunia shifted the sweater on her shoulders. She sniffed. "How fortunate for you that the b—that Harry actually behaves. He has appalling manners any other time."
"Interesting. We find Harry delightful. Now, I know you've never given us his medical information, but I daresay I could call on you should something happen? Not planning on slipping out of town without leaving any information, are you?" Narcissa asked with a chuckle.
Petunia's blood boiled. How dare she. How DARE she! They'd been doing this same little dance now for two years—neither wanting certain rumors publicized. But, Narcissa always took it too far. Because she could. No matter what, she was the matron of society in Little Whinging and Petunia Dursley, despite her great efforts, was still seen as the hanger-on. And now, that nasty business with Vernon had made things even worse. Petunia was sure everyone at the party knew—she could tell by the way they were all glancing at her.
"Of course not," Petunia scoffed, pretending that Narcissa's comment had been meant to tease, as if they were old friends.
"Wonderful." Narcissa looked through Petunia, as she so often did. "Nice seeing you again," she said with perfect grace and dignity and not meaning a word of it.
"I must say, Narcissa, I'm surprised you're having such a large party for Draco," Petunia blurted as Narcissa turned to leave.
Narcissa turned back around. "Why ever would that surprise you?"
"Well, with what's happened, I'm just surprised. Having a large party. Out in the open like this? Where anyone could just . . . drop in?" Petunia wasn't sure what had spurred her to this course of action, but she just had to see Narcissa crumble. For bloody once, Narcissa was going to come out on the wrong side.
"If you have a point, get to it," Narcissa hissed, tired of Petunia Dursley and, once again, cursing Lucius Malfoy's name. She endured this loathsome woman in order to protect her family, to protect Draco, but she was tired of it.
Petunia smiled—genuinely smiled—she'd managed to rile the ice queen of Magnolia Crescent. She'd meant to keep this information to herself a bit longer, while she quietly gathered more, but Narcissa had pushed her too far today. "You mean you don't know?" she began. "I read just this morning that Trotter Blackmun had been released from prison. Didn't he used to live in Little Whinging? Isn't he the one that was involved with your husband's tragic murder? I heard he was connected with some sort of underground criminal network." Petunia shuddered in an effort to mask her glee at the pale, drawn face of Narcissa Malfoy. "Personally, I could not imagine associating with such a man. But, I'm sure Lucius didn't know. And, he certainly paid the price didn't he? I'd heard Blackmun muttered something about getting revenge."
Narcissa's eyes darted around until they found Draco. She relaxed, knowing that, for the moment, he was safe. "I must say, Petunia, you are in rare form today. I commend you. Though, how sad for you that you have to stoop to this as a means of gaining a place in society—one for which you are supremely ill-suited, mind you. But, I suppose we do what we must. If you'll excuse me, I really must attend to Draco's other guests."
"Of course, dear," Petunia said with a vicious smirk, thinking she'd won this round. "Duties at home call, after all. Husbands, while wonderful creatures, can be so demanding, don't you agree? Though, I don't know what I'd do without mine." Her hand flew to her mouth at the slight creasing around Narcissa's eyes. "Oh, dear. I hope I've not upset you?" she asked with mock concern.
Never had they been so direct. Never had their dance been revealed for what it was. "Of course not, Petunia. I imagine he needs all of your attention at the moment. What with that terrible business at the plant," she said loudly enough for those around her to hear.
Petunia's face drained of color.
"Bad form of that stockgirl to claim he'd put his hands . . . well, best not said in polite company." A number of adults standing nearby tittered. "Well, ta!" Narcissa said with a bright smile, not caring a bit as Petunia stalked off in anger.
Narcissa scanned the crowd, finally finding Severus. A creature of habit, he was standing with Draco and Harry, examining a plant leaf while Pansy huffed on the bench beside them.
"No, no, no," Severus barked as Narcissa approached. "It's pronounced Calliandra. Cal-li-an-dra! I thought you were doing your tutorials," he said, as he sneered down at Harry and Draco.
"I am, we are, I mean," Harry barked back. "It's not my fault this one wasn't on any of them!"
Severus's gaze narrowed. "You've become quite churlish, Mr. Potter. I don't like churlish. You've been spending far too much time with my godson."
Harry and Draco exchanged a glance and giggled.
Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll have none of that," Severus growled. "Now, pay attention. You must learn to extrapolate. The root of the word is--"
"Severus," Narcissa interrupted, "I need to speak with you. Hello boys, Pansy. Enjoying the party?"
"Yes ma'am," the three murmured.
"Wonderful. Severus?" Narcissa asked as she tugged his upper arm.
"What do you want, Narcissa? I am in the middle of instructing these children on basic skills they should have been taught years ago. Their lack of knowledge is appalling."
"This really isn't the time for that, Severus," Narcissa said through clenched teeth.
Severus took in the too-pale skin, the slightly wide eyes and nodded once. "Boys, young lady, I shall return," Severus said before swooping away.
"Draco, why don't you start opening your gifts? Harry, if you'll help him, please, and Pansy, will you mark who the gifts are from?"
The three children nodded and scampered off to the gifts. Once everyone started "oohing" and "ahhing," Narcissa made her way over to Severus.
"What's happened?" he asked without preamble. His hooded eyes searched Narcissa's frightened gaze.
"Did you know that Trotter Blackmun was released from prison today?"
Severus's mouth fell open. "I did not," he said as he stepped closer. "How did you find out?"
"That vile Dursley woman rubbed it in my face, implying that he'd come after me, or Draco."
"What do you plan to do?"
"I don't know. Nothing, maybe."
"Foolish," Severus hissed.
"Yes, I know what you think. If it were up to you, I'd be living on your property and Draco would be boarding at Wolsford, but I refuse to bow down any more than I must."
"Cissa," Severus whispered, taking her hands in his, "this is no longer about bowing down. If you think there is a real risk, send Draco to Wolsford. I can protect him there."
"I can protect him too," Narcissa whispered.
Severus sighed in exasperation and squeezed her hands before letting go. "Just promise me you'll think about it. Please?"
Narcissa nodded. "We should be getting back to the party."
"Narcissa, wait," Severus said as he stopped Narcissa from leaving. "Lucius was my best friend. He was a good man. A misguided one, but a good one. Yes, he got greedy. Yes, he fell in with the wrong sort. But, he loved you, he loved Draco. That has to count for something."
"Don't. Don't, Severus, please," Narcissa pleaded.
Severus sighed. "I'm staying the weekend. Just in case."
Narcissa nodded.
ssssssssssss
The party had long been over. Harry and Draco were both in their pajamas, sifting through all of Draco's new toys. When Draco turned to the side to put something away, Harry slipped the roll of parchment he'd been hiding into Draco's lap.
Draco turned back in surprise. "What's this?" he asked, as he fingered the parchment scroll.
"Er, Happy Birthday," Harry murmured.
Draco looked at Harry quizzically as he pushed of the ribbon knot and unfurled the parchment. He looked it over, his eyes growing wider by the second. "Harry!" he exclaimed. "Is this what I think it is?"
Harry smiled, thrilled at the way Draco's eyes sparkled with delight. "Yeah. It's a real treasure map. I—I made it for you."
Draco nodded and stared at his treasure map some more before declaring it brilliant. He jumped to his feet, grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him down the stairs. "Mum!" he screamed. "Mu-um, Uncle Severus!"
Draco and Harry barreled into the living room where Narcissa and Severus were huddled together, talking about serious things.
"What is it, Dragon?" Narcissa asked, alarmed. "Did something frighten you? Did you see something?"
"Narcissa, please," Severus whispered.
"No! Look. Look!" Draco said, hopping from foot to foot as he thrust his treasure map in his mother and uncle's direction.
Severus took the parchment and surveyed it. A small smile played at his lips after several seconds. "Seems you've found a treasure map," he said.
"No! Harry made it for me. For my birthday. There's real treasure, Uncle Severus." Turning to his mother, Draco said, "Mum, can we go look for the treasure now?"
"Of course not," she scoffed. "It's late, Draco. You both need your sleep."
"Fine, tomorrow then?"
Narcissa bit her lip. She wasn't about to let Draco out of her sight. Not for a second. "Maybe later Draco. We'll see."
"But, Mum," Draco whined.
"Draco," Severus warned.
"But why?" Draco continued to whine.
"This is not the time for this," Narcissa hissed. "Stop acting like a spoiled child."
Soon Draco, Narcissa and Severus were talking over each other, yelling, stamping feet. Harry retreated farther and farther away from the conflict.
"It's my gift from Harry. You can't keep me from it. I want to find the treasure, and I will," Draco defied.
"I said NO!" Narcissa snapped.
The room went silent, save Draco's gasp. Harry stood in the shadows. Watching. He'd never seen Mrs. Malfoy so angry. It scared him.
Draco's face screwed up in anger, he snatched the treasure map from Severus's hands and ran up the stairs to his room.
"Draco," Narcissa called, running after him.
Severus sat on the couch and put his head in his hands. Harry remained still and (he thought) undetected. Harry stared at the pattern in the Persian rug on the floor, finding himself wondering when the Malfoys had come to own it, wondering whether they'd searched and searched until they found this particular one. He wondered if they'd been happy to finally find it, wondered how many fights, tears, smiles, and laughs the rug had born witness.
"Your clues were quite clever," Severus murmured after several moments.
"What?" Harry said, shaken from his musings.
Severus raised his head. "I said, your clues were quite clever. On the treasure map. Good show, Mr. Potter. A very thoughtful gift."
Harry swallowed and took a few tentative steps from the shadows. "Thank you," he whispered.
Upstairs, Draco and Narcissa continued to quarrel. Harry looked up and bit his lip.
"Don't worry about them," Severus said.
Harry returned his gaze to Severus. He nodded.
"Everything will be fine. All children quarrel with their parents. I'm sure you've had a few rows with your aunt and uncle, yes?"
Harry looked down, back at the pattern on the rug. He could feel Severus's stare boring into him. Instead of answering Severus's question, Harry asked one of his own. "It's just buried in the backyard. The treasure, I mean. What's wrong? Why is she so mad?"
Severus sighed. "Nothing for you to worry about, Harry. And, I'm sure I can convince Narcissa to allow me to supervise your little treasure-hunting expedition," he said with a soft sneer.
Harry nodded. Silence descended between them, the muffled sounds of Draco and Mrs. Malfoy's row punctuating the silence. Harry swallowed. "Er, Calliandra. You were telling us about Calliandra," he said. Plants, Harry had found, were always safe topics. Unlike people, or emotions, plants couldn't hurt you, or harbor ill-intent. And, talking about plants was like talking about the weather—pleasant conversation, but without serious substance. Unless you were talking to Mr. Snape, of course.
Severus perked up, clearly of the same mind as Harry. "So I was," he said, gesturing to the seat beside him.
Harry slipped into the seat and curled his legs beneath him. "Er, calli means beautiful, right?"
"Correct. And andra? Do you know what that means?"
Harry's brows knitted together as he thought for a few moments. "No, sir."
"I don't expect you would. Andra refers to the plant's stamens—the male floral parts."
"Male floral parts?" Harry said with a squeak and a blush.
Severus rolled his eyes. He opened him mouth to speak, but before he could Draco and Narcissa returned to the living room. Both looked as though they'd shed a tear or two.
"Narcissa," Severus said, happy to change the subject, "why don't you let me supervise the boys' treasure hunt tomorrow? I'd like to find a few native sapling specimens to take back to school and I'm sure the boys won't mind if we stop now and then so that I can obtain a cutting."
Draco looked up at Narcissa, pleading with her.
She sighed. "Yes, all right. Besides," she said with a wink to Harry, "it wouldn't do to have all of Harry's hard work go to waste."
Harry blushed and couldn't quite quell his small smile. He wondered, not for the first time, if this was what being part of real family felt like.
Draco crowed with delight and began racing around packing their "provisions," demanding peanut butter and honey sandwiches, apples, juice boxes, spades, torches and anything else he could think of.
Narcissa laughed as she got caught up in Draco's enthusiasm. Even Severus joined in, suggesting oranges were the better choice over apples and pointing out the necessity of a small journal and a few pencils to document the adventure. Harry sat back and watched, chuckled, and looked back down at the rug. He smiled, knowing that he was part of this memory. He felt connected to these people, felt interwoven into the patterns and rhythms of their lives—just as they were woven into his.