Sorry for the delay...
"Master Malfoy?" Snape appeared as Draco was making his way back to the dorms "Would you please follow me?" Snape turned and walked away, not even glancing back to see if Draco was following. That was the power of Severus Snape. When he asked for something, he was obeyed. Draco followed, trying to picture walls closing around his bond with Daphne. He didn't want her swamped with the unnecessary worry that was radiating through his body.
I'm through, thought Draco. Absolutely finished. He knows about this—whatever it is—thing I have with Potter. And he's going to expel me. Then probably turn me in to the company. Then Avada me.
So consuming was Draco's panic that he didn't register the fact that Snape had lead him to the teacher's private quarters. He didn't register the comfortable armchairs, or the crackling fire, or the magical pictures of Draco at various ages displayed on the coffee table. Draco took a seat, still staring blindly around the room. It wasn't until Snape gave a soft "So," that Draco came to attention.
"So," Snape sighed. "I know this must be awkward for you, but as you know, unless a magical child has need of his godfather before the age of twelve, he stays in the background of the child's upbringing, which allows the parents to raise the children themselves. However, as the child approaches twelve, the role of the godfather becomes much more important. He takes a much more active role in the upbringing of the child, and offers not only support, but guidance." Snape had slipped into teacher mode. Draco knew the only way to avoid a full blown lecture was to interrupt.
"Sir? Are you saying you're my godfather?" At Snape's nod, Draco sat back and took a deep breath. So he wasn't in trouble after all. Draco's eyes wandered the room, noticing for the first time the pictures of himself at various ages posted around the room. Draco realized his parents must have sent these to Snape, and wondered why the pureblood customs had kept him from a man who seemed so interested in his childhood.
"Sir? What should I call you? It doesn't seem right, somehow, to keep calling my godfather 'sir' but—"
"You may call me Severus, should you wish, or Uncle Severus. Obviously I would prefer that you don't flaunt this about, so you should continue to call me 'Professor Snape' while in class." Severus sighed. "My goal in bringing you here was simply to inform you that I am, indeed, your godfather. I do not think it unreasonable that I should desire to get to know you better, so I thought that perhaps we could set up weekly appointments. If I am to serve as your mentor, I should like to know the quality of the young man I am advising. I am glad, young Draco, that you have more sense than some at this school. I feel certain that you would never fly a car into the Whomping Willow." Draco sat up straighter.
"So it's true? I heard that Potter and Weasley flew a car, but I didn't know how much of it to believe. What happened to the Willow?" Draco felt proud of himself. By asking about the Willow, he hoped he would also get to hear about Harry, and the outcome of the crash.
"The Willow is mostly intact, though Professor Sprout will need to do some splinting tomorrow. The two boys, most unfortunately, are intact and still at school, despite my effort to get them expelled." Draco took a deep mental breath. So Harry wasn't hurt. Good.
"How will Professor Sprout splint that tree? I would think it's impossible, what with its propensity to…you know…move…" Draco frowned in concentration. "I suppose that Bowman's third theory might apply, if the appropriate force and leverage were used, but the theory doesn't take into account the fifth bylaw of the Levine principle as it regards large woody plants, like trees. Wouldn't the phloem…" Draco trailed off at the look in Severus' eyes.
"To say I'm impressed is an understatement. I knew your father wouldn't raise an idiot, but you have thus far exceeded my expectations. As it were, the night is wearing on, and I must send you off. Godson or no, I would have to take points off if you were out in the halls after curfew. If you're truly interested, I would be happy to ask Pomona about the splinting procedure. Perhaps we can meet next Thursday for tea?" Draco smiled, and assured his godfather that he would be looking forward to the appointment
The first day was always the worst. In Draco's experience, surviving one day was the first step to surviving anything. Steeling himself, Draco sat down next to Crabbe and Goyle. He looked down the table wistfully. Blaise and Daphne were already bickering several feet down the table. How Draco wished he could be a part of whatever nonsense was going on down there. For the sake of the "alliances" his father asked him to make, however, Draco needed to talk to the giant oafs on either side of him.
"Good morning," Draco was at least cordial, if not cheerful. When he received only grunts, he tried again. "How was your summer?"
"Good" mumbled Crabbe through a mouthful of porridge. Goyle laughed as a raisin fell from Crabbe's mouth onto his robes. Draco closed his eyes briefly in disgust. He held no fondness for these boys, who had been spoiled and coddled to the point of idiocy. Conversations with them were always like this, unless—
"So, have you tried the new Honeydukes chocolate sugar quills?" Draco asked with a sigh. The other two boys enthusiastically took up the subject. Unfortunately, the only thing Crabbe and Goyle were able to discuss intelligently (if 'intelligently' meant using polysyllabic words instead of grunts) was candy. Daphne's mental voice floated in, filled with amusement. I was going to complain that you weren't sitting with us, leaving me with Blaise, but I know there's no way Blaise is worse than THOSE two nincompoops! Ooh! Mail's coming! My father said he'd send me some new information on the evolution of twin bonds! I wonder—
But Daphne's question was cut off by shrieking. Turning, Draco realized that someone at the Gryffindor table had received a howler. Better yet, Draco realized that the Weasel had received a howler. Draco derived immense satisfaction from the look on the Weasel's face, but couldn't repress a shudder. Well-bred purebloods would never send howlers when their children could be in the presence of others. It just wasn't done. The Weasel family was so appallingly wrong! Draco stood and left the Great Hall, signaling to Daphne and Blaise that he was going back to the dorms.
After grabbing his bag, Draco made his way up to Transfiguration. While the Gryffindor had Herbology with the Hufflepuff, the Ravenclaw and Slytherin took Transfiguration together. Then the Gryffindor and Slytherin had their infamous mixed potions class together, while the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had mixed DADA. To make sure that there was an appropriate amount of "inter house interaction" the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had mixed transfiguration, while Slytherin and Hufflepuff had Charms together. Bottom line, the houses were paired with all the other houses for at least one class, meaning three mixed classes, and the rest were individual classes. It was a confusing system, devised in recent years to cut down on teacher workloads. Instead of having to teach four classes for each year (a whopping 28) each teacher only had to teach three per level (a more manageable 21).
All of this goes to say that as Harry Potter made his way to herbology, Draco made his way up to the transfiguration classroom. Though slightly pathetic, Draco had spent several minutes on his walk to the dungeons figuring out the Gryffindor schedule for the year. All it took was a little reasoning, with the end result that Draco would know where Harry was at all times during the day. This meant he could run into or avoid the boy-who-lived at will.
"—So in conclusion, the most important part of the incantation is the volume. Too loud, and your buttons will be the size of plates. Too soft, and you'd never be able to find the tiny buttons." As McGonagall finished her lecture, she flicked her wand, waking up the students who dozed off during her lesson. Draco frowned at them. He would have expected that behavior from Gryffindors, but from Ravenclaws, it was just sad. Draco had taken careful notes, determined to do well this year. He wanted to do his father proud by excelling in classes. Draco practiced the incantation in his head for a few seconds, before attempting it aloud.
"Beelarium Buttonesca" Trust the Italians to come up with a spell that turned beetles into buttons. No wonder Italian wizards were so fashion conscious, it had been bred into them over generations! Draco frowned at his beetle. The thing hadn't changed a bit. Draco tried again. And again. And again. Again. Again. No luck.
You aren't giving it the right concentration. This isn't like the mouse to goblet spell, it requires a lot less micromanagement, and a more generalized end picture. Let me help. Draco felt as though Daphne were rummaging around in his mind. Try it now.
Sure enough, the beetle transformed to a small black button on the first try. Draco met Daphne's eyes. "Did we know we could do that?" He asked, considering the possibilities.
"I didn't know but I suspected," said Daphne slowly. "That's pretty neat. I read about it in that book from my dad. I read a little bit this morning after you left to get your bag."
Blaise wandered over, took a look at their buttons, and began to complain "Why do you two get it on the first try? I don't understand!" He glared at his beetle as though it were the insect's fault. Draco turned to Daphne should we tell him about? Daphne looked thoughtful
"We could but—"
"Right, but then we'd have to—"
"Exactly, and I don't really feel like having to deal with—"
"I understand. Let's just leave it at that." Draco turned to Blaise, who looked confused and slightly angry. "I don't know how we did it, Blaise. I just, umm, focused on it right and it happened." Blaise still looked a little angry.
"Glad you decided to let me in on this conversation," he snorted.
It happened after Herbology. As Draco was walking the corridor with a group of Slytherin, he spotted Harry. The first thing Draco noticed was the cornered look in Harry's eyes, like he was trying to escape. The reason for this became clear as Draco approached the cluster of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. A first year was waving a camera in Harry's face and demanding a signed picture. Draco could tell that Harry hated this situation, and Draco dearly wanted to help Harry out. Take the attention off him. Draco glanced at Daphne, who was determinedly looking the other way. That's the only way to get him out of this situation without YOU losing face. Draco thought for a second.
"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?" Draco tried to be as loud as possible, to get all the students to look at him. He shot a contemptuous look at the first year, hoping he scared the pants off him. "Everyone line up! Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!" Daphne turned and stared at him. Was that supposed to make it better? Really? You are such an idiot. That's exactly the wrong thing to say! This just made Draco angry, so when he heard the tiny first year squeak "You're just jealous!" Draco lost it.
"Jealous? Of What? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself." Draco ignored Daphne's groan, and blocked out her mental voice. The rest of the confrontation passed in a blur, as Draco made fun of the Weasel, and left the room in a general bad mood. Later in the common room, Daphne came and sat against him on the couch, putting her head on his shoulder.
Draco, you know I think the world of you, but that really wasn't smart. I mean, I know that if it were a Slytherin in Harry's position, they would have recognized that you were trying to shift the focus to that first year's faux pas, but Harry thought you were insulting him AND the first year. Next time, try to be a little less Slytherin. Most other people can't handle our subtlety.
Draco felt a little better at this, and glanced around the room. Suddenly, he sat up straight and gasped. A poster had appeared on the bulletin board that read simply "Quidditch Tryouts- Saturday"
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