Chapter 5

The hum of Muggle machinery filled the shop as Draco boredly watched Ted turn a piece of wood on the lathe. He had to admit that Muggles were fairly ingenious when it came to doing things without magic. They were still inferior creatures, but they showed a great deal more intelligence than Draco ever thought they could.

So far his stay with his extended family had not been as horrible as he would have thought. He'd had a great deal more free time than he was used to. His aunt spent her days working on painting commissions.

That had come as a shock, that his aunt was the originator of some of the various pieces of art that adorned his mother's sitting room. The one she hung in a place of honour over the Italian silk settee where she held her society teas, was one of her as a small girl, painted by none other than his aunt. When he was younger, he even remembered asking why the name of the artist was obscured. His father had quickly changed the subject.

The high-pitched whirring of the lathe came to a slow stop and Ted muttered under his breath, "I can never find the right damned tool when I need it."

He lifted the goggles he wore from his face. They left deep impressions on his cheeks. "Draco, see if you can find a smaller version of this tool over there."

He held up an oddly shaped metal stick with a fat wooden handle.

Draco looked haphazardly, finding several other tools that looked similar to the one Ted wanted. He held each one up as he found them. If the shop was more organised than what his uncle kept, he could find any tool he wanted. Draco held his own council though. He'd already been taken to task by his aunt for his efforts to organise her chaotic work space. Apparently artistic types didn't like neatness or even logic.

For the thousandth time this morning he wished his incarcerated cousin, Sirius, hadn't escaped Azkaban. Draco's own freedom had been curtailed because of the danger his escape posed. He would be happy when they got to Hogwarts, even if the embarrassment of having his guardians there was almost more than he could bear.

He almost shuddered thinking of what a rude surprise that had been, his aunt and uncle at Hogwarts for the school year. No one in Slytherin had any idea about Draco's aunt being a blood traitor. They certainly would taunt him when they discovered that his mudblood uncle taught Muggle Studies. He both dreaded and anticipated his return to Hogwarts. Life just wasn't fair sometimes.

Draco was still hunting the tool when Ted exclaimed, "There you are, you little bastard!"

The lathe whirred to life and Draco resumed his bored pose, sitting on a wooden, backless stool, his chin on his hand, elbow propped on his knee.

He sighed. "I'm bored."

"Why don't you go help Andy pack the kitchen if you're so bored?" Ted half shouted over the noise. The man was impossible. Draco did not pack. He had house elves to do that for him. He would not begin to do their work now, especially since both his aunt and uncle were sticklers about the use of underage magic.

It was utterly ridiculous that he couldn't use his wand to do the assigned chores. For that matter, it was ridiculous that he had chores to do in the first place. He wondered idly if Burbage would take him out of their home if she knew he had to slave away like a house elf.

Though, to be honest, if she did, he would probably have less freedom there or with a more acceptable pureblood family than he did here.

He sat up with a sudden stretch. "Alright, I will."

Not that he intended to do any such thing. He'd dawdle in the garden or find a book to read if he couldn't explore the fields around the cottage.

Once outside, he took a swipe at the towering head of a sunflower, knocking a few petals from its still furled head. He then kicked a stand of thistles. The prickly plant's leaves clung to the hem of his trousers He yanked his leg away and continued down the path towards the back of the cottage.

He retreated under the weeping willow sitting under its leaves on a large hand hewn seat carved from a single piece of wood. It had become his favourite hiding place since he found it the second day after he'd arrived. It had a perfect view of the kitchen of the cottage where his aunt was directing items to a large box on the Muggle, aqua-topped chrome table in the middle of the room.

He didn't know why they had to pack everything when they had first told him about the move, but found out soon enough that they would be leasing the house to Ted's friends who had a magical toddler. His cousin was moving in with a bloke from work. The concept was foreign to Draco, that a home could be turned over to a new family. The Manor had been built by a Malfoy, and continuously occupied by their family to this day.

But then again, his parents weren't destitute or nearly so.

He watched his aunt until his eyes grew heavy, the cushioning charm on the seat making him drowsy.

He was awakened by Big Tony's joyous barks. It was much later in the day than he expected it to be. The sun had sunk, painting the clouds and sky in glorious colours.

"Oi! Cousin!" He heard Nymphadora shout from the back door. "Mum wants you to help lay the table."

He slouched further down in the chair. He heard the door shut and watched as his cousin made her way out to her father's shop. She shouted, "Dad! Mum says you need to wash up! Is that brat in there with you?"

He couldn't hear Ted's muffled answer. He should get up and go inside, but didn't want to spend any more time under Nymphadora's watchful eyes. She made it obvious that she mistrusted him, and he returned her mistrust with superior loathing.

"Where are you, brat?" Big Tony, the little betrayer that he was, took that moment to run to Draco, placing his muddy paws on Draco's knees. He didn't know why the dog liked him so much. His cousin followed the traitor as Draco hopped to his feet. "There you are! Mum's been worried sick about you. She needs you to lay the table. You missed tea and supper's almost ready."

"I heard, Nymphadora, there is no need to alert the whole neighbourhood."

Draco groused.

Before he could react, she had him in a headlock and was ruffling his hair with her other hand. "What did I tell you about calling me that?"

"Stop it!" He flailed against her, trying to dislodge himself from her grip. It was humiliating how she always seemed to best him physically. He hated to be touched by this creature, especially in this degrading manner.

The door to the back opened again, letting light spill out onto the swiftly darkening grass, his aunt called, "Draco, Nym! Both of you quit your horseplay and come inside. Supper is almost ready and I need your help!"

Nymphadora let him go just as he gave a mighty pull against her. He went sprawling on the grass. He couldn't wait until they were at Hogwarts if only so he could get away from his cousin.

"Potter!" Severus shouted grimly. "Open this door at once! It's time this ridiculous hunger strike of yours ends!"

The silence from the other side of the door just fuelled Severus' fire. That obstinate boy had reached Severus' last nerve. "Potter!" he bellowed, "this is your last chance! You will open this door immediately, or I will open it for you, drag you to table, and make you eat! Do not test me, Boy. You will not win!"

Several more moments of silence followed, and Severus drew his wand, saying warningly, "Very well, Potter, you have made your choice."

Just as he was about to cast, the door suddenly banged open, and the boy stood there, glaring at Severus, his green eyes sparking with defiance. He stalked past Severus, into the dining area and flung himself into a chair.

Severus, returning the boy's glare, settled himself into his own seat and ground out. "Supper."

Magically, the table was suddenly laden with the trappings of a meal, including china, cutlery, and all accoutrements.

Soup, roast, potatoes, gravy, bread rolls, a hearty repast that would put a little needed meat on Potter's skinny frame. Severus gestured for the boy to help himself, and when he just sat there sullenly, grabbed his wand and filled the boy's plate for him.

"Eat. Now.", he commanded.

With a furious expression, Potter slurped a spoonful of soup, took a bite of bread, crammed a forkful of meat and potato into his mouth, managed somehow to swallow it, and stood up. Enraged now, Severus barked, "Sit down, or I will stick you permanently to that chair!"

Potter plopped himself down with a spine-jarring recklessness and glared balefully at him. After a moment Severus spent thinking he must have addled his own brain inhaling too many potions fumes over the years to have agreed to this insanity, sighed deeply and said, "What end do you hope to accomplish by this churlish behaviour, Potter? Do you think that by refusing to eat you will somehow convince the FAC that I am unsuitable to be your guardian? Do you think that they will remove you from my care? Because if that is indeed your motive, I assure you, your efforts are futile."

Stubborn as ever, the boy continued his silent glaring. Severus, trying his best to hide his annoyance, tried again. "Potter, there is a time and place for stub...defiance, but this is neither. The only thing you will accomplish is making yourself ill, whereupon I shall be obliged to force feed you the most vile tasting nutrient potions I can concoct."

Nothing.

The boy remained stoically impassive, and Severus was now at the end of his tether. Silently cursing both Charity and Dumbledore, he shrugged, picked up his own fork and said, "Fine. Starve yourself. I can see you've clearly inherited your father's innate pig-headedness."

That sparked something in the boy's eyes, and his expression turned mulish. "Needlessly stubborn in his narrow-mindedness. Unheedful of danger. He paid the price for his recklessness. Do you wish the same end?"

"My father was not pig-headed!" Potter suddenly shouted, banging his fist on the table, causing the china and cutlery to rattle. "You shut your mouth about my father! He died protecting me and my mother!"

"He died without his wand on his person because he stubbornly refused to carry it on him in his home, even though he knew the Dark Lord was pursuing him. That is reckless behaviour, Potter, the same reckless thinking and behaviour you're displaying with his idiotic refusal to nourish yourself! Why are we all wasting our time protecting you when you have so little regard for yourself?"

He watched as Potter picked at a hole in his trousers, a scowl deepening on his own face as he said, "Thank Merlin your mother, as stubborn as she could be, was the right kind of stubborn. She at least had her wand at hand! She died protecting you, and now you're going to throw her sacrifice aside by starving yourself to death. At least your mother knew how to pick her battles, Potter. Your mother would have seen the futility of trying to change what she couldn't. She would have recognised refusing to nourish herself was the wrong kind of stubborn. Your mother would have strived to make the best of any situation she found herself in. Believe me, Potter, you'll go further in life emulating your mother rather than the mule that spawned you."

Suddenly Severus ran out of steam. He had just finished dealing with blindly stubborn, recalcitrant children, and now the worst one of all was foisted on him with no end in sight. He didn't have the energy for this right now. There was a reason he had chosen not to reproduce himself. Ten months of brats every year had driven any thought he'd ever had of children of his own permanently from his head.

He didn't want Potter here any more than Potter wanted to be here. He wanted his home at Spinner's End, mean as it was. At least there he could have the peace and quiet he longed for. Childfree peace and quiet, with his books that didn't talk back, or need to be fed. Damn Albus to hell! He picked up his fork again and wearily began to nourish himself.

He nodded at Potter and said, "Suit yourself."

Let the brat starve, he thought, turning his attention to his meal.

Severus chewed his food without really tasting it, brooding over the impossibility of the situation, when a slight movement across the table caught his eye. Potter appeared to be deep in thought, but he had picked up his fork and was picking at his food with it. Severus cast a quiet warming charm over the boy's plate and went back to his own. Eventually, he heard Potter clear his throat and say hoarsely, "You talk about my mother as if you actually knew her."

"I did know her," Severus said, careful to keep his voice neutral so as not to spark anymore outbursts.

"You were classmates I suppose," Potter said, staring at his plate.

"We were, but we were also friends," Severus said.

The boy snapped his head up suddenly, frowning at him with a confused expression. "She was a Gryffindor."

"Yes she was," Severus acknowledged with a small nod of his head "Nonetheless, we were friends. Best friends."

"You were best friends with my mother," Potter laughed, clearly incredulous. "You actually expect me to believe that?"

Severus gripped the reins of his temper tightly, shrugged outwardly and said, "Believe what you wish. The fact remains."

Potter appeared to consider it for a moment, then shook his head and said flatly, "Bullshit."

"Language, Potter," Severus growled, his patience wearing thin.

"Come on! Potter laughed derisively. "You seriously expect me to believe that you were best friends with my mother! You hate me, you hate my father, but you were best friends with my mother? Have you been dabbling in your potions store, Snape? Smoking your herbs? Are you high?"

Resisting the urge to put a langlock charm on the brat, Severus again shrugged and said casually, "Did you know that your Aunt Petunia, Tuney as Lily called her, once wrote Dumbledore a letter begging to be allowed to come to Hogwarts?"

Potter burst out laughing and said "Now I know you're full of it. My aunt hates magic. There is no way she would ever want to step foot in Hogwarts! She thought my mother was a…"

"Freak?" Severus said, arching a brow. He took pleasure at seeing the boy's mouth drop open in surprise.

"Yes, Potter, she made no secret of the fact she considered us both freaks. Because she was jealous. Feel free to ask Dumbledore about the letter,"

Severus said and went back to his dinner with a show of indifference. Let the brat stew over that awhile, he thought irritably.

"I will!" Potter shouted belligerently.

"You do that," Snape snarled back, completely fed up now. The little monster was impossible, and Severus refused to engage any longer. He banished the contents of the table back to the kitchens, stood, and said, "Supper is over. Go to your room and occupy yourself til bedtime. Or don't. I don't care to converse any further. I have work to do in my lab. You may not leave these quarters. If you destroy anything, you will be punished accordingly. If you decide to end your ridiculous hunger strike, there is food in the kitchen. Clean up any mess you make, or I will drag you out of your room regardless of the time, to do so. I trust I've made myself clear."

Without waiting for an answer he doubted was coming anyway, he turned and swept out the door, drawing his wand and warding the door unopenable before stalking off down the corridor to his private lab, where a bottle of firewhiskey awaited.

Harry quietly slid into his chair at the table the next morning, watching the mild look of surprise momentarily cross Snape's face. He was expecting a snarky remark, but none seemed to be forthcoming. The man merely tapped the table, and said "Breakfast."

Harry looked down at his own plate, feeling his stomach rumble. It smelled delicious. He picked up his fork and pushed his eggs around,

contemplating how to broach the subject occupying his mind. He wanted to ask Snape about his mum. He'd spent the night with different scenarios drifting through his head, trying to imagine how Snape and Harry's mother had encountered one another. How Aunt Petunia fit in there. That would seem to indicate Snape knew them both outside school, and Harry, burning with curiosity, just couldn't imagine a scenario where Snape met both his mother and her ill-tempered sister.

He took a sip of the pumpkin juice sitting alongside his plate, a bite of egg, a bite of toast, swallowed, then cleared his throat. Now or never, he thought, cleared his throat again, and said, "Snape...Sir."

The man abruptly crunched his paper down, a grim look on his face, and said, "You will not leave the castle without an escort, Potter. Th..."

"What?!," Harry fired off immediately, "I'm not a baby! I don't need minding! You can't treat me like that!"

How typical, Harry fumed. He knew Snape would pull something like this, ridiculous rules, treating him like a child that can't be trusted! He wondered if he could firecall Charity somehow? He glared at the old bat across the table.

Snape simply looked at him with a sour expression and said, "May I finish what I was about to say? If you don't mind, that is."

Feeling suddenly foolish, Harry felt his cheeks flame as he mumbled, "Yes. Sorry."

Snape sipped his tea, then pointed at the front page of his paper. "This is Sirius Black. He has managed to escape from Azkaban..."

"I thought Azkaban was inescapable," Harry said.

"It should be," Snape said, "Obviously it is not, for Black has indeed escaped.."

"Black, " Harry said, "is he related to Draco Malfoy? Isn't his mum a Black?"

"Yes, Narcissa Black..."

"Draco's mum's name is Narcissa?" Harry mused. "Must be where he gets all that self importance from."

Snape frowned at him and said, "The name Narcissa is of Greek origin and means daffodil, and in this case not narcissist, you foolish boy."

Harry just shrugged and laughed at Snape's again sour expression.

"If I may continue," Snape said testily. Harry shrugged again and went to work on his food, ravenous now.

"Potter!" Snape said with a sneer of obvious disgust. "There's no need to gobble your breakfast like a wild animal! I find it difficult to believe the prim and proper Petunia didn't impart some modicum of manners to you before allowing you to sit at her table! Eat properly for Merlin's sake!"

"'M hungry," Harry said purposely through a mouthful of toast. "Didn't you tell me to end my hunger strike immediately?"

The old bat glared at him so hard Harry thought his eyes may fall out into his teacup, and tried not to laugh at the image. Snape continued to glare, however, and Harry slowed down, deciding he'd wound Snape up enough for the moment.

Snape sighed wearily and continued, "Sirius Black is Narcissa Black's cousin, so yes, he is related to Draco Malfoy. He was also your father's best friend and fellow bully in school, along with two others of their little gang. When your parents went into hiding from the Dark Lord, under the Fidelius Charm, Black was their Secret Keeper."

Harry snapped his head up, eyes wide, feeling as if he'd just been punched in the stomach.

"Y-you mean...he…" He stammered.

"Yes, he betrayed your parents, told the Dark Lord where they were. He then ran, killing thirteen Muggles and another of your parents' friends before he was apprehended. Now he has escaped, and you are in danger."

"Why?", Harry said, "why am I in danger? I didn't do anything! I was a baby!"

"Black won't see it that way, will he?" Snape said grimly, "Regardless you were a baby and actively did nothing, the fact remains, you are the reason the Dark Lord vanished, and Black will want revenge. He thought nothing of leading the Dark Lord to you and your parents, thought nothing of killing thirteen innocent Muggle bystanders, and another of his friends. He'll think nothing of killing you as well. As long as Black is roaming free, you are in grave danger, and I cannot allow you to roam about the grounds alone."

"But this is Hogwarts," Harry said. "How could he get into Hogwarts?"

"He managed to get out of Azkaban," Snape pointed out. "Even if you display your usual recklessness and are willing to risk your own safety, I am not. You are not allowed to leave the castle without an escort."

"But what about when school starts?" Harry protested, "I can't play Quidditch? I'm on a team!"

"Where you will be in front of the entire school," Snape said. "Including myself and several other teachers. Black is neither stupid enough, nor brave enough to attempt you harm in front of so many people."

"What if Hagrid invites me for tea?" Harry asked. "He does, you know. He's my friend."

"Then as your friend, he would want to make sure you are safe, and will not mind escorting you to and from the castle, will he?" Snape countered.

I suppose not," Harry agreed grudgingly.

Snape frowned at him and asked, "Why do you object to being kept safe, Potter? Do you have a death wish?"

"No!" Harry said with annoyance, "I just...I don't..." he sighed heavily, "I ...don't like the fuss, and...I don't like...to be boxed up. There's nothing to do down here. You picked out a bunch of baby books in my room, and all your books are boring. I want to..I thought I could at least go down to the Quidditch pitch and fly."

"If you do not find the books in our quarters to your liking, may I remind you there is an entire library at your disposal upstairs," Snape said, going back to his paper.

Harry stabbed at the remnants of his breakfast and thought about how typical it was of Snape to think the library was a good way to spend summer hols. He heard Snape sigh, and looked up to see the man peering at him over the top of his paper.

"You may go to the Quidditch pitch if you have an escort."

"There's nobody here!" Harry pointed out, "Just Dumbledore, Pomfrey, Hagrid, and you. Everybody is busy."

Snape sighed again, and eyed Harry up for a moment before saying, "Very well, Potter. I will accompany you to the pitch for thirty minutes in the evenings. It's the best I can offer at this time."

"Thirty minutes." Harry snorted. "Are you sure you can spare it?"

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry for a moment, then shrugged and said, "If thirty minutes flying is not enough for you, I can offer zero minutes flying time and an hour sorting potions ingredients if you'd rather. The choice is yours."

"Fine!" Harry snapped, "Thirty minutes! And zero ingredients sorting! And you have to take me to visit Hagrid!"

Harry got up, pushed his chair to the table noisily, stomping off to his room before Snape had a chance to take back his offer. He didn't see the half smile spreading across the face of the man watching him go.

Draco had just stepped through the floo, holding Big Tony's leash. The dog was sniffing the air with interest. No doubt he smelled something unpalatable and utterly foul. Dogs were odd that way. Father's wolfhounds were dolts, yet they had an air of refinement. Even so– and to be fair, Draco had little interaction with them because mother had banished them to the largely unused stables at the Manor– they adored rolling in anything vile.

Draco shivered just thinking how filthy they could be. He gave a sharp tug on Big Tony's leash and tried to step quickly out of the way of the floo. He was impeded by a stack of boxes that had to be unpacked by him, of course. His idiot cousin had been right behind him with the rest of the household packed away and shrunk to a manageable size. His aunt and her husband had stayed behind to welcome their new tenants.

The floo flared green and his cousin's voice. "Oi! Draco. Move your arse. I can't go through."

He couldn't believe how coarsely his cousin spoke, nor could he get over how plebeian she was. He was sure his aunt had taught her how to behave. It must be the Muggle genes that caused her to be so vulgar. It certainly couldn't be the ones she received from her mother.

Draco sidestepped the boxes, dragging the dog with him, and Nymphadora finally stepped through, coughing and brushing ineffectually at her sooty clothes. She wore a Weird Sisters' Tee under a spike studded denim jacket, along with a pink and black tartan skirt, ripped fishnet hosiery, and clunky shoes she inexplicably called Doc Martens, whoever that was.

"You are a witch aren't you?" Draco sneered at her, and she answered him with a fierce scowl. He waved his hand about as if casting' and when she failed to take the hint, he said, "Use your wand, Cousin. I don't wish to choke on the dust you're raising trying to rid yourself of filth."

She raised two fingers in the air in the shape of a V, a gesture she seemed to find amusing for some reason. Once she was satisfied with that gesture, she flicked her wand out of her sleeve and spelled her clothes clean.

"You could use a good cleaning too, Cuz." She said, pointedly looking at his face.

He merely turned from her, letting Big Tony's leash fall to the floor, and strode to the room that his Aunt had pointed out as his. Bollocks! Nymphadora was supposed to have returned his furniture and boxes to their normal size.

He stormed out of his room and saw that Nymphadora was seated on the only chair in the room, playing with the mutt.

"Don't let me disturb you, but weren't you supposed to be the big adult who is needed to cast Finite on all my things?"

"I will, but only if you ask me nicely." She said, continuing to play with her dog, alternately roughing up his head and trying to be faster than his mouth with her hands.

Draco threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "I would do it myself, but your parents took my wand this morning."

"Oh, I heard all about it." She finally quit teasing the mutt. "My parents are law-abiding, Malfoy. They don't think they have a separate set of rules from everyone else. Underage magic is strictly prohibited, and you know it."

Draco had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing her. He'd show her that he didn't even need a wand if she provoked him more.

She stood, then strode to the door of his room. Soon she returned. "It's all done, Your Majesty."

"Fine," he said as he took the seat she had just vacated. "Don't let me keep you from your absolutely fabulous life. You may go now."

"You know I have to babysit you until my parents get here, Brat." She countered. After a few minutes of charged silence she asked, "Are you hungry?"

Draco's stomach took that moment to let out a loud rumble. She gave him a mocking wide-eyed look. "I suppose that's a yes."

She called for Melli, the elf that had been assigned to Ted by the old Fool, and ordered tea for them both. His cousin rifled through one of the still small boxes and pulled out one of the chairs that had sat in the parlour. She resized it and flopped into it. She threw her knees over one armrest and leaned her side against the back of the chair. She considered him for some moments as she wiggled one foot rhythmically.

Once the tea arrived she broke the silence. "You aren't so bad, Cousin, when you allow that pure blood personna to drop."

He wished he could say something similar to her, but she truly was everything his parents hated about those unfortunate enough to be born half blood. She was entirely too Muggle, too pedestrian for his tastes. He wisely chose to remain silent.

She laughed, a loud braying sound that never failed in the past weeks to make him shudder.

"I know what you're thinking." She said, "I'm nothing like a good little pureblood woman. And you know, you're right. Mum and Dad raised me to think for myself, Draco. I wish your parents had done the same for you."

The floo flared to life and Nymphadora rose. "Take care of my dog, Cousin. He's a good boy and a real friend. I think you're going to need him once school starts."

His guardians stepped through, one after the other, and soon Nymphadora was gone.

He was a Malfoy. He didn't need anyone.