Draco's Boy

by empathic siren

No longer a repost. HPDM. Nonmagic AU. A mysterious little boy named Harry moves in next door to Draco Malfoy, and he's determined to make him his friend and learn all of his secrets. Years later, he's determined to make Harry more than a friend.

15. A Bit of Parchment

Chapter 15: A Bit of Parchment

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and those to whom she has licensed her creations, including without limitation Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. I make no money from this and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N:Once again, great thanks to Sansa for her fantastic beta skills and her wonderful cheerleading.

Harry woke. He kept his eyes closed, allowing his senses to unfurl at a slow pace. The morning was cool, making the soft warmth surrounding him all the more inviting. A sparrow chirped as she hopped from branch to branch in a nearby tree. Harry could hear her as she darted back and forth. A faint breeze rustled the grass and tickled his nose. It carried with it the scent of his jasmine and four-o'clocks. The small wind chimes tinkled in the breeze.

His mind drifted to all that had happened the night before. Harry had expected to feel a lingering sense of unease and distress. He didn't. If anything, he felt . . . clean, free. He'd made a decision about Wolsford. He understood Mrs. Malfoy more, now. He'd taken a chance renewing his friendship with Draco and had found someone who was more of a kindred spirit than he'd ever imagined. Best of all, the Dursleys were still away. They couldn't spoil this perfect moment. Nothing could spoil it.

When he could no longer avoid waking fully, Harry groped for his glasses and slipped them on, all with his eyes still closed. He opened his eyes. It was like seeing the world for the first time.

A fine sheen of dew covered the earth, making everything sparkle as if kissed with glass glitter. The sky was blue and the grass green and the flowers more brightly colored than Harry remembered them being. It was like the world had been washed and scrubbed clean.

The breeze kicked up again. Draco shifted in his sleep. Harry's gaze darted to him. The sunlight, the dew, something—Harry wasn't sure—made Draco's platinum hair seem as if it were lit by the sun itself. His skin was as creamy as the small jasmine blossoms retiring for the day. Harry continued to stare, realizing with a start that Draco was fascinating. An odd feeling squirmed in his stomach as he catalogued the fine contours of Draco's face, the graceful lift to his brow, the hint of flush on his cheek. Strong and, yet, ethereal, Draco was like the Chinese orchids Harry had found so fascinating the previous year. His hand moved of its own accord and touched Draco. The feeling in his stomach intensified. Harry snapped his hand back. The feeling in his stomach wasn't unpleasant necessarily, just . . . odd. He shifted and flexed his knees and ankles in an effort to dislodge the squirming sensation. It wouldn't go away. He didn't understand it—this odd feeling that felt, at once, like longing and also like heat. He decided that it was little more than covetous envy. He, with his unruly mop of black hair, scruffy appearance, and short stature was no match for Draco. He stared for a long time.

Draco stirred. He blew out a breath, which made his pale hair flutter. He rolled over and licked his lips. Harry knew that, at any moment, Draco would wake fully. He continued staring until Draco's eyes opened. As Draco's gaze sharpened, Harry said, "Good morning," while cutting his eyes to the side, hoping that Draco had not caught him staring.

"Morning," Draco said with a yawn as he snuggled for a moment in the warmth of the sleeping bag. "What time is it?" he murmured as he flopped onto his back and folded his arms beneath his head.

Harry looked up at the sun. "Around eight, I reckon."

Draco made a noncommittal sound in response.

Harry bit his lip. He felt awkward and wished that the feeling in his stomach would go away. "We should head back. Your mum's probably worried and I have to talk to Mr. Snape."

Draco rolled back over and pinned Harry with his gaze. There was nothing dull or sleepy about it. Harry's stomach flipped over and lurched. "About the application? To Wolsford?"

"Yeah. I need to take it to him," Harry said, hoping he'd kept the tremor from his voice. What was wrong with him? He berated himself for acting so silly.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Draco asked, as he scrambled out of the sleeping bag.

Harry snorted at his antics before turning serious. "I might not get in, you know."

Draco paused. "You will," he said after some time.

"How can you be so sure?"

Draco shrugged. "I just am."

Harry found comfort in that, though he couldn't say why. "I just have to go inside and get it."

Draco stood and tried to smooth his wrinkled trousers. "Bring a change of clothes. We can shower and stuff at my house." He fished in his pockets and pulled out his small mobile. "I'll call Uncle Severus and ask him to drive over."

Harry nodded as he bundled the sleeping bags and grabbed the other things they'd brought out with them. "I'll meet you out front."

"I was hoping to come in, you know," Draco said with a short laugh. "To use the loo," he clarified.

Harry hesitated. "Erm, sure," he said. "Meet you at the back, then. Just have to put these things away."

Harry took his time putting everything away in the garage. "Stop being so stupid," he said to himself. So what if Draco wanted to come into the house? "Because he knows, now," Harry whispered. He shook his head. "Right. Time to get this over with," he said as he left the garage and let Draco into the Dursleys' house.

"The loo's up the stairs and to the right," Harry said as he went to the kitchen table.

"I remember," Draco said as he wandered through the house, staring at everything as if seeing it for the first time. He was, in a way. Odd things he tossed away before now had much darker meanings. "I'll be right down."

Harry waited until he heard the last stair creak before he turned his attention to the Wolsford application. It was still turned to the signature page. He picked up the pen. Before he could change his mind, he signed it.

His hands shook as he slipped the application and all of the attachments into the envelope Mr. Snape had given him. He sealed it. It was done now. No going back. He squashed daydreams about afternoon tea with his yearmates while wearing a crisp, black uniform, riding a beautiful black and brown thoroughbred, and never having to see the Dursleys again. He would not think about that. Not yet.

Harry gathered up all of the papers and things from the table and threw them out with the other rubbish. Draco hadn't returned yet. Harry knew why. His room was next to the loo. Draco would be curious. It was unavoidable.

Harry tidied up a few more things in an effort to avoid going up. He glanced at the clock. Mr. Snape would be there soon. With a sigh, he trudged up the stairs to his room. As he expected, Draco was there, standing with his back to the doorway.

"Mr. Snape will be here soon," Harry said.

Draco's shoulders tensed. It was the only indication that he'd heard Harry.

Harry stood there, wondering what Draco was going to do. He was about to repeat himself when Draco started talking.

"You aren't really afraid of windows, are you," Draco said, still facing away from Harry.

Harry swallowed. "No."

Draco inhaled sharply and hung his head. He nodded to himself. Harry waited.

"You didn't pick this room."

"No."

"Were you really sick all those times?"

Harry's throat closed. He licked his lips. He closed his eyes. "No," he whispered.

Draco's fingers ghosted over the worn coverlet on the small bed. "Do you hate them? I would. I do."

Harry hesitated. "Yes," he said, hating that he let the Dursleys get to him so.

Draco nodded again. "And Mum. Do you hate her as well? I wouldn't blame . . . I'd understand," he said as his fingers clutched at the shabby cloth.

"I—I did," Harry began slowly. "I don't . . . . Not anymore. I don't hate her anymore. I don't know that I ever really hated her."

Harry thought Draco might say something about that. He didn't. Instead, he turned and faced Harry, pinning him with his gaze, studying him. He tried to smile. It was tight and nervous. "Good thing about the windows. The dorms are full of them. I couldn't think how to explain that to our suitemates."

Harry smiled back, his just as tight and uncertain. Avoidance was familiar and felt as warm and comfortable as his sleeping bag had that morning. Draco shared the sentiment, it seemed. "You seem awfully confident that I'll both get into Wolsford and live with you. Awfully cheeky, don't you think?"

Draco smiled again. This time it was genuine. "I'm a Malfoy. I've a right to be cheeky. And you will get in and you will live with me. Uncle Severus will see to it," Draco said with a sniff.

Harry laughed. "Still dragging me around, are you?" he asked with an arched brow. "I thought we'd sorted that out years ago."

"As if I could make you do anything," Draco said, while visions of small, shaggy lions popped into his head. Draco studied Harry. Yes. Harry was still his boy, his little lion, and he'd be damned if he'd miss something so important about him again.

"Draco?" Harry asked, puzzled by Draco's behavior. Draco smiled, though, now, it was flat and a little sad, Harry thought.

"Come on. Uncle Severus is probably waiting."

Severus looked at the boys and their rumpled clothing. He shook his head. "You look as though you've slept outside like wild ruffians. Get in the car before someone sees you."

Draco and Harry traded conspiratorial glances. Draco mouthed "Voldemort," while casting a glance at his godfather. Harry laughed, sobering at Severus's sharp glance.

"I don't recall saying anything humorous, Mr. Potter."

"Erm, no sir."

"Then what is it?"

"I, uh--" Harry hesitated before withdrawing the application envelope from his knapsack. Better to go ahead and give it to him now. "I wanted to give this to you straight away."

Severus's eyes roved over the thick packet. His gaze shot to Draco before settling on Harry.

"He knows," Harry murmured.

Severus's lips quirked. Harry thought it might—might—have been a smile. One could never tell with Mr. Snape. "I'll see that this reaches the headmaster this afternoon. Well done, Mr. Potter."

Harry blushed and ducked his head. His stomach felt jumbled and squirmy, though it was a decidedly different feeling than he'd experienced earlier in the day. He nodded.

Draco slung his arm across Harry's shoulder, ignoring his gasp of surprise. "No worries, Harry. Uncle Severus will make everything right."

Severus studied Draco. "I'm glad to see your opinion of me has changed over the course of the night. I expected you to be more upset."

Pain flooded Draco as he remembered what he'd learned the night before. It had been so much easier to focus on Harry. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He withdrew his arm and stepped away. "I am still upset with you," he mumbled. "But if you can help Harry, then . . . then . . . look, just help him, okay?"

Severus nodded. "Very well," he said, before ushering the boys into the car. Draco entered first, sitting stiffly in the front seat.

Harry held Severus's gaze for a bit longer. "Thank you," Harry said with some effort before looking away and getting into the back.

Severus closed his eyes and exhaled. He had a feeling that his well-ordered life was about to be turned upside down. Somehow, though, it wasn't an altogether unpleasant thought.

"Has anything come in the mail yet?" Draco asked as he followed Harry around the nursery.

"No. I told you I would tell you when something came. I've told you that for days now, but you insist on asking every day, don't you?" Harry growled.

Draco picked at lint on his jumper. "It's just that school will be starting back in just over a month. I just thought you would have heard by now, is all."

Harry threw down his gloves and turned around. "I've often wondered, do you take classes on how to say the worst thing possible at the worst possible moment, or does it come naturally to you?"

Draco laughed at Harry's moue of exasperation. "Naturally, of course," he teased. "Come off it, you prat. I'm sure you've gotten in. It's just a matter of confirmation at this point."

Harry rubbed his forehead. He hated this aching hope that had somehow settled into his bones. It, along with Draco's constant chattering, was giving him a headache. "How is everything with your Mum?" Harry asked, knowing that would send Draco scurrying away. As predicted, Draco's mouth set in a firm line, he kicked at the gravel path, and mumbled something about not wanting to talk about it. It bought Harry a minute's respite.

"Hey, do you know what today is?" Draco asked a few minutes later.

"Wednesday."

"You know what I mean."

"No, apparently I don't. You asked what day it was. It's Wednesday. I wasn't aware of a hidden meaning."

"You've been spending too much time with Uncle Severus."

Harry snorted.

"I mean, the calendar day, Harry."

Harry opened his mouth to make a sarcastic retort, but shut it when he realized it was the thirty-first of July. He turned back to watering the bright rows of annuals. "Don't," he said in warning.

Draco's shoulders slumped. "Why can't we--"

"I told you. No."

"But--"

"No. No party. No presents. No fuss. Just . . . no."

"You're a right git, you know that, don't you?"

Harry smiled. "So you've said. Many times."

Draco smiled too. He couldn't help it. Besides, he had something else to smile about. "Fine. No parties, or anything, but we have to celebrate, Harry. You're fifteen! That's like . . . like . . . well, it's important, that's what. Let's go back to your garden, yeah? Tonight. I'll come over around eleven."

Harry's gaze narrowed. "What are you playing at?"

Draco held out his hands in surrender. "Nothing. You've made it perfectly clear that you don't want a fuss, or a party, or presents. Though," he said with a sly glance, "you never said anything about chocolate cake. From Woodberry's, of course."

Harry stiffened. He loved the chocolate cake from Woodberry's. He'd even had a few pleasant dreams about that chocolate cake. "That's really, really low," he growled, even as he licked his lips in anticipation.

"Yes, it is," Draco said brightly. "See you tonight," he said before he skipped off to find Severus.

"Draco Malfoy, you're going to be the death of me," Harry muttered to himself before returning to his work, trying very, very hard not to think about chocolate cake from Woodberry's.

Harry was exhausted. He'd spent the entire afternoon moving a section of the nursery to a new location. He wanted to kick Mr. Snape for pointing out that Mr. Wells would do better to have his shade ornamentals on the other side of the nursery.

Harry shucked his dirty trainers at the Dursleys' back door and wiped his feet as best he could. He didn't know why he took such care. It wasn't as if there would be anyone to greet him, or scold him, or acknowledge his existence in any form. An empty, still house greeted him.

Harry sat in the kitchen and drank a glass of water as he thought through what he needed to do in preparation for the Dursleys' return. They were due back the next day—Uncle Vernon had finally used up his vacation leave and Dudley would be leaving for school in two weeks time. Lovely. Thankfully, there wasn't much to do. Harry had kept up with his chores all along. He snorted. It didn't matter anyway. Vernon and Petunia would find something to criticize, something to prove, once again, how worthless and useless Harry was.

He drummed his fingers on the table, enjoying the last few moments of silence he'd get for a long while. He thought about Draco and chocolate cake and the garden. His stomach lurched a bit like it had that morning they'd woken up together. He squirmed in his seat for a few seconds before getting up and walking around the kitchen. He stopped at the door to the basement. He could still see them—the faint lines marking Dudley's height as he'd grown through the years. He stared at them a long while, pretending not to care, pretending that he didn't desperately wish that there were another set of marks next to Dudley's. He resisted the urge to stand straight and thrust his back against the wall so that he could measure himself against those lines. He shook his head. What was the point? He'd spent his life trying to measure up to the Dursleys and had never succeeded. He hoped he wouldn't have to try much longer. Harry's throat grew tight as he stared at the lines. He finally turned away and drank another glass of water.

When the last of the sun's rays slipped away, Harry got up from the table and shuffled to the hall, intent on showering before doing any last minute tidying. He passed the post on the way. Sighing, he bent over to gather it up and sort it according to Uncle Vernon's specific instructions. Something caught his eye. There was a large, thick envelope on the floor, covered with elegant script. The envelope was addressed to him. Harry's breath caught in his throat. Trembling fingers trailed over his name before they turned over the envelope. Bright blue wax emblazoned with Wolsford's crest sealed the back flap. Harry stopped breathing.

He snatched up the envelope and held it close to his chest. His heart was thumping and he felt a bit lightheaded. His future was in that envelope. Feeling a bit dazed, he sat heavily on the bottom stair and let the envelope rest in his lap. He stared at it for a long while—much like he had at the faint marks on the wall in the kitchen. A dog barked in the distance, breaking Harry's daze. He bit his lip and turned over the envelope and ripped it open.

If anything, that simple act increased the horrible thumping in his chest, the wheezing in his lungs, the dizziness in his head. "Stop being such a coward," Harry snarled to himself, startled by how loud his voice sounded in the still house. With a snort, he withdrew the papers and began reading.

"Mr. Potter," he murmured as he read along, "On behalf of the Wolsford Academic Board, we are pleased--" Harry had to stop. His eyes began to water. He closed them. He forced back the emotion lodged thick in his throat. After a few moments he opened his eyes and began reading again. ". . . we are pleased to inform you that you have been admitted to Wolsford Academy. Further, we are pleased to announce that you have received a full academic scholarship."

The letter went on about the traditional start of term picnic, as well as required physicals, medical records, uniform standards and fittings, and all sorts of other things. Harry's hand dropped. The letter fluttered to the stair. He started laughing. It began as silent snickers at the thought of Harry Potter, young gentleman. The idea of him in a crisp, black uniform while drinking tea and nibbling cucumber sandwiches sent him into fits of bone cracking guffaws. The idea of moving far, far away from the Dursleys and having a new life—his own life—turned his hysterical laughter into heart wrenching sobs. He collapsed against the stairs and curled his hands into fists. He beat them against the stairs as he turned his head away. His body heaved with the effort of keeping his cries silent. Harry didn't know why he was crying, only that his tears were ruining a perfectly lovely bit of parchment—a bit of parchment that had changed his life forever.

Draco didn't know what to make of the boy standing on his porch. Harry had arrived, unexpectedly, a few moments prior, looking tired and out of sorts. His hair was wilder than ever and his eyes were puffy and red. He sniffed every few seconds as if recovering from a cold. Draco thought the worst.

"What's happened? What have they done?" Draco asked as he pulled Harry inside and tried to check for injury. "I thought you said they weren't coming home until tomorrow?"

Harry shook him off and, rather than say anything, he thrust a creased and tear-stained envelope into Draco's hands.

Draco recognized the envelope immediately. It was from Wolsford. He looked up at Harry, again taking in his bewildered expression and his puffy, red eyes. "Impossible!" Draco thought to himself. "There's no way Harry didn't get in." Dread curled in his stomach as he turned the letter over and over.

"Go on, read it," Harry croaked, pushing the envelope further into Draco's hands.

Draco frowned as he withdrew the letter, not sure of what he was going to say to comfort Harry. He scanned the letter, looking for a reason for why Harry hadn't been admitted. He noticed the words "congratulations" and "welcome." He looked up sharply at Harry before he started reading the letter from the top.

"You got in," Draco said after he'd finished the letter.

Harry nodded, his expression still odd.

Draco read the letter again. Perhaps he'd missed something. You got in," he repeated. "Scholarship, stipend, everything. Harry, you got in."

"I know," Harry mumbled, staring in the distance. "I—I can't believe it."

"You got in!" Draco exclaimed as he rushed forward and hugged Harry hard, ignoring his gasp of surprise.

"Mum!" Draco bellowed as he let go. "Mum! Uncle Severus," Draco called as he ran from room to room, flapping the letter.

"What is all this racket?" Severus growled as he stomped into the room. He took a look at Harry and rushed to his side. "What's happened? Have they hurt you? Draco said they were not returning until tomorrow. Did they come home early?" he asked, as his good sense flew away and something decidedly more fatherly took over.

Harry shook his head, his eyes tracking Draco's darting form. "No, sir," he murmured.

"Then what's happened?" Severus barked, regaining his scowl and mantel of indifference.

Harry looked up at Severus. He smiled. "I got in."

"You got in."

"Yes, I got in. I—well, I can't believe it, actually."

"Nonsense," Severus said, while Draco continued to fly through the house, flapping the letter, and calling for his mother. "Of course you got in."

Harry blushed and looked down at his worn trainers. "Where's Mrs. Malfoy?" Harry asked, in hopes of changing the subject.

"She's not home," Severus said. "She's gone to pick up your cake from Woodberry's. Perhaps we should all enjoy it here? A celebration of sorts?"

Harry looked away. After a time, he nodded. "I'd like that. Thank you." He looked around. "I suppose I should tell Draco that he can stop bellowing now," he said with a small laugh.

"Yes, that might be in order. I haven't seen him so animated since the time the two of you found pirate treasure buried in his back yard."

Harry didn't say anything.

"Did anything else come with the letter, Harry?"

"Oh. Erm. Yes, sir," Harry said as he looked around for wherever Draco had dropped the rest of the papers. "Here they are," he said as he handed them to Mr. Snape.

Severus looked them over quickly, clucking his tongue as he got to the small packet that required Harry's guardian's signature—including the original application. "Have you looked through everything, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "They won't sign," he said with a certain amount of belligerence. "They won't want me to have this."

"Perhaps not, but they will sign. Tomorrow we'll speak to your relatives about everything." Severus hesitated. "Have you much to pack? Perhaps it would be best if you stayed with Draco and Narcissa until the start of term."

Harry nodded, the flush creeping back into his face. "I can take care of myself, you know," he said with a pathetic, wounded sneer.

"Oh, I know," Severus said with exaggerated awe in his voice. "Don't think for a moment that I worry about your welfare. Why, I'm simply worried for the Dursleys."

Harry snickered and turned away, intent on finding Draco. Mr. Snape's hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned, his brow quirked in question.

"Well done, Harry," Severus said with a soft voice and a gentle squeeze of his hand before he turned away.

"Stop digging your fingers into the seat. You're marring my upholstery," Severus admonished.

Harry withdrew his hands from the seat and folded them in his lap. "Sorry, sir," he mumbled as he stared out the passenger side window of Severus's car.

"There is nothing to be nervous about," Severus said after a few minutes of tense silence. "I told you I would handle this, and I will."

Harry nodded his head, but said nothing. He bit the inside of his cheek. He was dreading this. He'd been in a daze the evening before when Severus had first suggested it. He'd been plied with too much chocolate cake and fizzy soda to protest later. And that morning, Mr. Snape hadn't given him a chance to complain or make excuses as he'd hauled him out of bed, sent him to the shower and dragged a comb through his hair himself before tugging him into the car. Harry was sure the Dursleys would refuse to sign. His only hope was that Mr. Snape would convince them.

"Will the duffle be sufficient for your things?" Severus asked.

"Sorry?" Harry asked, still thinking about being trapped for the rest of his life with the Dursleys.

"The duffle for your things? Packing? Honestly, are you even listening to me?" Severus snapped.

Harry rubbed his forehead. "Sorry, sir. I'm just . . . erm, yes the duffle will be fine. Not much to pack, really. Just a few clothes, books, not much at all, really." Harry finished under his breath.

Severus nodded as if he'd expected as much. "Narcissa informs me that your uniform fitting is scheduled for next week. We'll get the other things you need then. The climate in Wolsford can be a bit different than Surrey. You'll need some new things, I suspect."

Harry nodded and looked down at his folded hands. He could see his worn trainers. He shuffled his feet over in an attempt to hide them. He knew Mr. Snape was trying to be as respectful as he could. The climate at Wolsford was not that different than Surrey, but Harry knew the things he owned would never measure up to what the other boys wore. He wasn't so naïve as to think that something as trivial as his wardrobe wouldn't matter. A whole new kind of panic surged. He would never fit in at Wolsford. What in the hell had he been thinking? The other boys would spot straight away that he wasn't like them, that he hadn't been raised in their world. Harry sighed. It felt like that no matter where he lived, he didn't fit in. He wondered if he'd ever belong anywhere. No matter, though. Anywhere was better than the Dursleys' house.

"We're here," Severus said, startling Harry from his thoughts.

Harry sat in his seat and stared blankly at the house for a few minutes. "Well. I suppose we should go in," he said as if he were preparing to face death by firing squad. He sighed and ran an errant hand through his hair, ignoring Severus's hiss as his hair stuck up in various directions. He made to get out of the car when Severus stopped him.

"I've been meaning to ask you what you wrote your essay about. The headmaster mentioned to me last night that it was one of the main reasons you were admitted."

Harry sunk back into the seat. He clasped his hands and looked down, trying to work out the best way to say what he wanted. "I wrote about trees," he began.

Severus stilled as Harry looked up. His gaze seemed unnaturally bright and serious.

"I wrote about caring for trees," Harry said before pausing. "I wrote about how someone told me once that his favorite trees were the damaged ones, that with attention and care, even the worst of them can grow and become beautiful." Harry looked down.

There was an uncomfortable squeezing in Severus's throat. He dismissed it as too much chocolate cake the night before. "I see," he whispered, filed with warmth he couldn't define at the thought that Harry had remembered his words and had taken them to heart. "Very sound advice, I think."

Harry looked up. "I hope so, sir," he murmured, before getting out of the car and waiting for Severus.

Severus resisted the urge to ruffle the boy's already wild hair, or, worse still, hug him. He really couldn't deny the affection he felt for Harry, but he refused to be like those mollycoddling parents who hugged and cooed over their children. Instead, he would show his affection in far more practical ways, the first being convincing the Dursleys to let Harry go away to school. Still, he couldn't stop himself from squeezing Harry's shoulder. "No use putting it off any longer."

Harry nodded and led the way to the door.

Dudley Dursley greeted them. His disdainful eyes shot to Harry first before roving over Severus, not recognizing him. He took in the fine details of Severus's clothing—expensive, obviously—as well as his scowl. Dudley smiled with glee, assuming Harry was in trouble with Severus. Dudley stuck out his hand. "Dudley Dursley, sir," he said with his most affected tone. "Let me be the first to apologize for whatever Harry here has done. He's my cousin, you see, but he's distantly related," Dudley hastened to add. "He's always getting into trouble, no matter what we do. Shall I get my parents so that you discuss the matter with them?"

Severus's eyes narrowed as he drew himself up taller. He leaned over and glared at Dudley as if he were a systemic fungal infection attacking one of his prized orchids.

Dudley cringed. "I'll just get my parents then," he stuttered while he backed away and ran towards the kitchen.

Vague shouts of "Mum," and "Dad," were heard in the distance as Severus turned to Harry. "How unfortunate for you to have to claim relative status to that beast. Ghastly manners. Did you tell me he boards? How disappointing for you that you're not attending that fine institution of learning," Severus said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Harry snorted. He couldn't help it. He grinned, thanking Mr. Snape silently for breaking the tension. The break was short lived.

"What's this?" Vernon Dursley asked as he lumbered through the hall. Petunia trailed after him. Harry knew the moment that Vernon recognized Severus. He seemed caught between sneering at anyone who would take up for Harry and wanting to charm someone of Severus's ilk. In the end, he settled for something in the middle. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Mr. Snape?" Vernon asked through clenched teeth as his glare darted to Harry.

"I've come to talk with you about Harry's schooling," Severus said.

"What about it?" Vernon snapped. Vernon turned to Harry.

"Mr. Potter has been accepted to a very prestigious school. We need to have a chat about exactly how that's going to work."

Vernon went purple and then red and then stark white. The color change was rather fascinating, Harry thought. "What have you done, boy?" Vernon hissed, truly angry. His hand reached out, unconsciously, and snaked towards Harry, attempting to grab him by the front of his shirt.

Severus pushed Harry behind him. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Severus growled, continuing to press Harry behind him, even as he struggled to peek around Severus's shoulder.

Vernon paled to an impossibly grim shade of white. "How dare you!"

"No. How dare you," Severus began. "Could you be any less of a malformed cretin? Forcing us to linger on your tatty little porch while we discuss your nephew's future like common vagabonds? And here I thought that, if nothing else, you at least pretended to be polite," Severus said, ignoring Vernon's grumbling.

"For goodness sake, Vernon, invite them in! They'll make a scene, otherwise," Petunia hissed as she glanced around making sure none of the neighbors were watching.

Vernon growled and puffed up his chest as if he meant to protest. Petunia's fingers dug cruelly into his shoulders as she hissed at him again. He sagged in defeat and stepped aside. "This is all to do with you, isn't it boy? Nothing but trouble, you are," he said as he made another attempt to grab Harry as he walked by. Harry twisted and skittered away.

Severus turned at the commotion and faced Vernon with such venom, that Vernon shrunk back and shuffled backward until he bumped into the wall. Severus advanced. "Do not touch him," Severus said, punctuating each word with a step closer to Vernon.

"I meant no offense," Vernon blubbered.

Severus's smile was grotesque. "Of course not, Mr. Dursley. Just as you meant no offense every other time you've manhandled him. You only meant to hurt him then, didn't you? But you never meant any offense." Severus's voice grew harsher with each word. Unfocused rage boiled within him. How dare Vernon Dursley treat Harry with so little regard? Harry was worth ten thousand Vernon Dursleys.

"Mr. Snape. Please! Don't," Harry said, his hand clutching at Severus's elbow.

Severus started. He turned. Harry's face was ashen and his eyes were wide and pleading. Severus got hold of himself. Giving into his rage was not the best way to help Harry—not now, anyway. He smoothed the front of his trousers and brushed imaginary lint from his shoulder. "We have matters to discuss," he said with a sniff, before turning and leading everyone to the living room, as if he lived there instead of the Dursleys.

Vernon and Petunia sat on the couch while Severus took a seat in a small armchair. Harry hovered, hesitating. A sharp glance from Severus had him scurrying to sit in the other small armchair. Vernon and Petunia exchanged a glance. Vernon looked as though he might protest Harry sitting on the good furniture, but the sharp pain from Petunia's fingernails digging into his forearm squashed any objection he might make.

"What's this about?" Vernon asked gruffly.

Severus withdrew a packet of papers from his breast pocket and slid them across the small coffee table. "Harry will be attending Wolsford Academy for the remainder of his schooling, including his A Levels. He's received a full academic scholarship and his summers will be spent either with me at the school in an apprenticeship program or studying abroad, which will likewise be covered by his scholarship. It's all been arranged. All you need to do is sign these papers where indicated and you'll never have to see Harry again." Severus withdrew a pen and slid it across the table as well. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

Vernon seemed caught between pleasure of getting rid of Harry and the pain of giving Harry something he wanted. He finally settled on depriving Harry of as much as he possibly could. "Why should I? That little brat has been nothing but trouble since he came to us. He's finally earning his keep. Why should I give that up? What's in it for me?" Vernon asked with a piggish squint.

Snape's knuckles turned white with the force required to keep him in his seat. "Harry, go upstairs and pack your things," he said in a soft, steely voice.

"But," Harry started.

"Now," Snape said with a glare that had Harry on his feet and up the stairs in moments.

Severus turned back to the Dursleys. "You will sign the papers and you will let Harry go. Otherwise, I will be forced to report the fact that you abandoned a fourteen-year-old boy while you and the rest of your family went on holiday. Of course, that would lead to other discoveries, one would think."

Petunia gasped. Vernon's gaze narrowed as he curled his meaty hands into fists.

"So what?" Vernon spat, as if not bothered in the least by Severus's threats, though his fists said otherwise. "Call the authorities! Let them come! Let them investigate and find out what a nasty little brat the boy is. They'll never believe him, you know, and they won't believe you."

"Vernon," Petunia interrupted, but Vernon kept talking.

"There will be questions for you too, you know. They'll want to know why you waited so long to say anything. A right nasty fix you'll get yourself in along with me. And the boy . . . well, no need to tell you about that. They'll have a field day with him."

"Vernon," Petunia called out more fervently as she shook Vernon's arm.

"What?" he roared as he turned to his wife.

"Sign the bloody papers," she whispered through clenched teeth.

"Have you lost your bloody mind? And simply give him what he wants?"

"Sign them," Petunia repeated.

It was fascinating watching Vernon and Petunia argue, pretending as if they weren't arguing. They, well Petunia at least, were trying to keep up appearances. That was what Severus was banking on, and it seemed his plan had worked. He knew he had them the moment Vernon started talking about investigators and questions. Petunia had paled and had begun clutching at Vernon's forearm frantically.

"But Pet," Vernon said with a childish whine.

"Sign them!"

Petunia's voice was shrill, desperate. Severus saw a flicker of understanding pass through Vernon's eyes at the unvoiced threats Petunia's words carried. With great effort, Vernon took the papers and signed them, grumbling the entire time about worthless boys and lifetimes of trouble.

"There. You've got your papers. Take the boy and go," Vernon said as he tossed the papers back with a flourish.

Severus nodded as he stacked the papers and returned them to their envelope. He stood and sneered. "It has been a most unique experience," he said as he turned, intent on going upstairs to see if he could help Harry pack his things faster. Vernon stopped him.

"I don't know how he's fooled you, but mark my words, that brat is worthless. He's good for nothing but a sharp scolding and a cuff about the ears. Mark my words, he'll drive you to drink, he will. That boy will cause you nothing but trouble. I ought to know. We've been stuck with his miserable hide since he was a year old when his worthless, do-gooding parents got themselves blown-up in some ramshackle flat whilst mediating some third world civil war!"

"If he was such a burden, why didn't you give him to a boy's home?" Severus roared, tired of this ridiculous house already. He'd no idea how Harry had stood it his whole life.

Petunia gasped. "You're not serious? He's family. Of course we had to take him." Petunia sniffed and rearranged the sweater resting on her shoulders. "What would people have thought?"

Severus sneered. "Forgive me, madam. I'd forgotten for a moment how important others' opinions of you were." He would never understand people like the Dursleys. It was better to get Harry away from them as quickly as he could. He turned and strode into the hall, but stopped abruptly. There—on the stairs, clutching the duffle that couldn't be more than half full—was Harry. His face was ashen. "Harry?" Severus called out, concerned for him.

"You told me they'd been killed in a car crash. Drunks, you said," Harry said as he stared at Vernon Dursley. "You told me they were worthless drunks!" Harry yelled. "Why couldn't you have given me just that—nothing more—just one happy thing, one thing I could be proud of. What difference did it make to you?"

Vernon's face purpled. "I don't have to answer your questions. You don't live here anymore, boy. Get out of my house and don't come back. If that school needs anything, tell them we've bloody moved!" Vernon shouted before stomping away to the kitchen.

Harry swallowed and closed his eyes.

"Let's go, Harry," Severus said.

Harry nodded. He shuffled down the stairs and walked to the door. Before leaving, he hesitated and turned back. Petunia's mouth set in a grim line. She rearranged the sweater on her shoulders, again, a nervous gesture she'd had for as long as Harry could remember. "Say what you mean to and leave," she snapped.

Harry took a deep breath. He meant to say nothing more than goodbye. Something entirely different came out. "You never gave me anything—not comfort, not love, not hope—nothing. I did nothing but try to please you. What was so awful about me that you couldn't even pretend to like me?"

"Harry, don't," Severus said as he tried to steer Harry out the door. No good would come from such a question to such a heartless woman, but before he could get Harry out the door, Petunia responded.

"You were a ghastly, needy little thing. Always crying for your precious mother. You played strange games and spoke in unnatural languages—probably from all of those despicable places your parents carted you to. I didn't want you, but I was forced to take you in. Be grateful that you lived here instead of a boy's home. At least here you had advantages, you learned the way of the world."

Harry laughed. "Oh, yes, Aunt Petunia. Such advantages you gave me. Lessons I'll never forget. I would say thank you, but that would destroy your image of me, I think. See you," Harry said as he pushed past Severus and hurried down the walk.

Severus stared at Petunia. "You've no idea of the precious gift you've wasted."

Petunia sniffed. "What's precious depends on the person, I think."

"That, Mrs. Dursley, is the only thing about which you and I agree," Severus said before he turned and left, hoping it was the last time either he or Harry would ever see the Dursleys.

Severus met Harry at the car. He was frowning and scuffing his feet on the pavement. He clutched the duffle as if it were his only anchor to the world. In some respects, it was. "Ready to leave?"

Harry bit his lip. "Erm. Can I have a moment, sir?"

Severus arched a brow, but nodded.

Harry hesitated. "Sir, you wouldn't happen to have a set of shears and a few specimen bags, would you?"

Severus's brows shot up, but he nodded again. "Yes. What for?"

"Just something I forgot," Harry said. "I'll only be a few moments. I promise."

Severus sighed. "A few moments. That's all. Do you need me to go with you?"

"No sir. It's not inside. I'll be right back."

"Very well."

Harry dropped the duffle and took the shears and bags Severus had in the boot. "I'll be back in a jiff," he said as he sprinted up the side of the yard and scurried around the back.

Ten minutes passed. Severus gave up his pacing and was about to go find Harry when he came barreling around the corner of the house, red-faced. There was a faint tinkling sound surrounding him. As he got closer, Severus noticed several cuttings from a few familiar night-blooming plants. He said nothing as Harry approached.

"Sorry, sir," Harry said, gasping for breath.

"Can we leave now, or is there some other mysterious errand you must run?"

Harry blushed. "No, sir. I'm ready to leave." Harry twisted around and looked at the house one final time. "It's time I left this place," he said, before scrambling into the car and staring straight ahead.