It was three minutes past four and Potter was predictably late.
The small, ornate clock on the mantle next to the Muggle picture of Eileen Pince ticked the time away. The clock hand jerked downwards again with the movement of the gears within. He knew the clock kept perfect time. It had been his mother's from her Hogwarts days. The Princes could afford a great many expensively enchanted things for their daughter that Eileen never could for him. Its ornate face had served to wake him during his childhood. It had been a constant companion, even if it was inanimate. Its steady ticking, like a heartbeat that knew no pain, had kept him company during those dark days after Lily's death. It had kept him on time to classes that he hated teaching, and through the vigil he kept over Potter now.
The door flew open with a bang and Potter skidded to a halt, eyes wide behind smudged spectacles. "Sorry I'm late! I had something to send off and Hedwig wouldn't cooperate!"
Potter's nervous picking at the hole in his disgustingly large jeans served only to irritate Severus more. "I expect promptness, Potter. There will be no time on the pitch this evening."
The boy looked stricken for a tiny moment and then his face took on his usual mulish expression. He muttered, "I said I was sorry."
"Go wash up," he ordered. Severus watched the boy walk away, shoulders slumped. It wouldn't do to take his irritation at the Headmaster out on the boy. What was Albus thinking?
He felt his shoulders tense and the beginning of a headache start at the base of his skull. He would tell the boy about the wolf this evening. Surely the boy would have sense enough to stay far away from the creature.
Once Potter was out of the room, Severus summoned tea, making sure the elf knew to bring the disgustingly sweet treacle biscuits that the boy seemed to prefer.
Once the tray arrived, laden with both the biscuits and Severus' favourite cucumber sandwiches garnished with peppery watercress, Potter returned to the lounge. The boy slumped onto the couch and glared at the tea as if it were poison.
Severus served the boy his portion and then took his own. Potter said, "I wrote to Hermione about books I should read to prepare for Arithmancy class. That's why I was late."
Severus' years of Occlumency effectively hid the surprise at Potter's words. He hadn't expected him to do more than whinge after that morning's reaction. He also hadn't expected to come out on the wrong foot with the boy, especially on this subject. After too much time to be a natural pause, Severus said, "I was mistaken. We will go to the pitch this evening after I finish brewing for Madam Pomfrey.
The boy almost smiled then as he finally reached for his tea and took a small pile of biscuits for it. "Ta.. I mean, thank you."
Silence resumed, this one less uncomfortable than the last. Severus wished he had brought his latest copy of Potions Quarterly, even so.
Potter nibbled on his biscuit, chewed, and swallowed audibly and then said, "I met the new Muggle Studies teacher today."
Severus merely looked at the boy, who seemed to be inordinately excited about meeting a relative of Draco's. "Oh?"
"I'm going to take Muggle Studies." Potter said. "I was going to take Care of Magical Creatures, but…"
The boy looked at him from under his fringe, wariness limning his features. "I mean… that is… if you say I can… I know now that real guardians tell their… children… They tell you what to do and all that, so… maybe I have to ask The Dursleys never really wanted me to… I mean, they didn't say anything about schooling and what I should take, especially here…I'm just not used to…"
"Yes." Severus stated, the penny dropping about the boy's attitude towards his studies. He made a mental note to pursue the topic later. He would not allow Potter to maintain his current level of academic performance, not if he had, as Severus suspected, inherited any of Lily's intelligence. He had, perhaps, misjudged the boy's general lack of care and preparedness for laziness. "Yes, you should refer to me before making decisions, for the time being at least, and you may take the class. I understand Professor Tonks has some interesting subjects to cover."
Potter seemed to relax infinitesimally. Severus wondered what had prompted the change in the boy's attitude about his input, but knew better than to ask. Thirteen was a trying age to be, Severus remembered his own conflicted feelings, especially surrounding his magical schooling. He cut off where his thoughts were leading. He didn't need to dwell on the past at this moment. "My father was never interested in my… magical education. He was a… Muggle, and very opposed to my mother using magic. He never took an interest in much of what I learnt. It is completely understandable that you might find my input uncomfortable at first."
"You're a half blood? Like me?" Harry scooted forward, his expression intent. "Is that how you knew my mum and Aunt Petunia?"
Severus waved his hand dismissively, "I have something I need to discuss with you, something concerning your safety this year at Hogwarts."
Snape tried to ignore the crestfallen look on Potter's face. He knew he would have to break down and answer the boy's questions at some point, hopefully after Lupin left and Black was safely back in prison.
"I am willing to answer questions about your mother at another time." Severus said, and then began."There is a new Defence teacher this year."
"Malfoy said the position is cursed." Potter interrupted. "We saw him this afternoon on the way to Professor Tonks' workshop."
Of course the boy did. Why would Severus be forewarned about a dangerous beast roaming the halls where the boy could just bump into him? Severus took a deep breath through his nostrils, and then let it out slowly. Albus' machinations would not be tolerated if they endangered his charge.
"If I might continue?" Severus said with a buzz of impatience in his tone. Potter's mouth shut with an audible click of his teeth. "The professor in question is Remus Lupin. He was a particular friend of Sirius Black in our schooldays…"
"That's the bloke who betrayed my parents, right?" Potter asked, his pupils going flat and dark.
"Yes." Severus answered. "That is one reason I will ask you to take precautions about being alone with the man. The other reason is that Lupin is a werewolf."
"A real werewolf?" Potter asked with a huge smile wreathing his face. "Wicked!"
"What other type of…" Severus began, but then remembered the films his father used to drag him to before he lost his position at the Mill. Werewolves and other creatures had figured prominently in some of Severus' nightmares as a young child. "Werewolves are most certainly not as they are portrayed in films, Potter. They are dangerous. You will not seek out Lupin's company, do you hear me?"
"I do!" Harry exclaimed. "But if he's so dangerous, why did Professor Dumbledore want him here?"
"You must take that subject up with the Headmaster, Potter. I would not dare to make a supposition on his motives." Severus bit out, his earlier ire returning. "I must caution you that the Headmaster wishes for the information about Lupin's affliction to remain between us. That means, Potter, that you are not allowed to divulge this information to your little friends. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir." Potter answered. "I'm not stupid, you know. We had a kid with leukaemia in my class and Miss Robertson, the teacher, asked us not to talk to anyone about it because it wasn't anyone's business but his."
Potter took a large slurp of his tea and then asked, "May I be excused? I would like to fix some broken twigs on my broom before I fly tonight."
Severus nodded absently and sent the boy off with a wave of his hand. He had a bad feeling about Lupin and Potter. He would make sure that Lupin had no chance to do any harm. He sighed, his term had just become that much more difficult.
After Potter took his leave back to Snape outside his uncle's dusty shop, Draco made his way up to the Astronomy tower, thinking furiously. He gazed out at the gathering evening shadowing the grounds, his teeth clenched in fury.
Muggle Studies! How dare his uncle try to force such rubbish on him, and in front of Potter to boot! And Potter! All enthusiastic over working with his hands in that filthy shop! He'd never understand this attraction to sullying oneself with manual labour!
He pondered the best way to let his aunt and uncle know that under no circumstances would he engage in such a mindless pursuit. He was a Malfoy, they needed to understand what that meant. He had no need whatsoever for Muggle Studies. He never intended to deal with them after he left school, therefore there was no reason to waste his time learning about their simpleton ways when he could be learning something useful like Arithmancy or Runes. Something that applied to the wizarding life he'd be leading. The idea! Mother and Father would be outraged!
Mother and Father. Draco closed his eyes against the pain the thought of them brought. Locked up in some squalid cell. His delicate and refined mother especially. He turned his mind away from the thought before tears could flow, and wept in his heart for her. He watched several owls leave the confines of the owlery, setting out for their evening hunt, and tamped down his heartbreak. Now was not the time. No, he had a momentarily more pressing situation to deal with. Muggle Studies! How dare they! His resolve restored, Draco took one last look at the soaring owls, and turned to his task. He had the Malfoy honour to defend.
He arrived back to their quarters, pausing to draw his wand and run several scourgify spells over himself before going in to confront his relatives. He found them sitting at the tea laden table, obviously waiting for him, his uncle having made himself presentable at least.
"There he is!" his uncle announced, a ridiculously jolly note to his voice.
"Draco," his aunt said. "Tea is ready. We've been waiting for you."
Tea, Draco thought disdainfully. What she meant was supper. He would never get used to this idea of the evening meal so early. Even the school meal was later than this! With a scowl, he took his seat.
"You don't look very happy, Son," his uncle said. "Something happen with your friend?"
Good grief! Draco thought, rolling his eyes.
"No, Uncle, nothing happened with Potter. I am not happy, and you know very well why I am not!" he ground out. He watched his aunt and uncle exchange a brief glance, feeling his fury boil up again.
"I will not be taking Muggle Studies this coming term," he said firmly, "I refuse. Malfoys do not take Muggle Studies, nor do they engage in manual labour. Nor do Blacks," he added pointedly to his aunt."You may have forgotten your station in life, but I have not."
"Hear, Boy," his uncle said gruffly. "You will not speak to your aunt in such a manner, and I don't care who you are! You'll be respectful, or you'll not speak at all!"
Draco was mildly surprised at the anger in his uncle's voice. It was the first time he'd ever used such a tone with him, and he felt a twinge of, not quite admiration, that at least he stood up for his wife if nothing else. Still, what Draco had said was true. He knew she had been raised to a higher class than what she currently embraced, and he would never understand why she lowered herself. Even so, he knew his mother would be disappointed in his manners, and so reluctantly nodded at his aunt and said, "My apologies, Aunt. That was uncalled for."
"Draco," his aunt nodded back, acknowledging his apology.
She handed him a steaming cup of tea, and motioned to them to begin eating. He took his cup and set it aside, glancing at the steak and kidney pie awaiting him. Not quite Manor fare, but he knew it would be good. Hogwarts kitchen elves served decent, if not elegant food. The same could be said of his aunt, he admitted to himself grudgingly. She was a surprisingly good cook, having learned from her husband's Muggle mother, she'd confided to him. He took a forkful, and as an olive branch of sorts, said, "Quite nice. Did you make this, Aunt?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did," she said, "it's Ted's mother's recipe. I'm glad it meets your approval, being a Muggle recipe."
He supposed he deserved that dig, he scowled inwardly.
"Touchè,' he muttered more to himself, and took another bite.
After a few moments of silence while they ate, he couldn't help himself, and appealed to his uncle, "Why are you insisting I take your class? What point are you endeavouring to make by forcing me to waste my time fiddling with your machines when it's something I can guarantee you I will never need nor use in my life? I'm not like you, and I don't mean Muggleborn or halfblood. I simply will never need to engage with Muggles nor use my hands to make a living. It's a fact of life, even if I were a Muggle…" He couldn't help the distaste that the words came out with, but managed to keep his face straight, "Malfoys are wealthy, old money wealthy. Even old money Muggles don't work with their hands. You must know that."
His uncle looked at his aunt and said with amusement, "I told you so, Andy"
Draco sighed disgustedly, took a sip of his tea and said. "Aunt Andromeda, I know that you understand what I'm saying. You were also raised..."
" Yes, Draco," she cut in, "I do understand what you're saying, and yes, I was raised with old money, wealthy, in a family that did not 'work' as it were. Just as my sister, your mother was. Which is precisely why it is I, not Ted, who insists you take Muggle Studies."
Draco stared at her, eyes wide, his mouth actually falling open in a surprised O, so completely nonplussed was he at her words.
"Close your mouth, Dear," she said in a tone so reminiscent of his mother, his jaw automatically snapped shut.
"I am going to tell you something you are not going to like, but which I think you desperately need to hear," she said. "And I want you to listen to me, Draco. We can discuss it if you wish after I am finished."
Her tone, so like his mother, made him keep any protest to himself. Somewhere deep inside a tiny voice was telling him this wasn't fair, for her to wrongfoot him like this, sounding like his mother, however irrational that was. He remained silent, his insides roiling in confusion.
"I love my sister, no matter what has gone between us. We were close when we were younger, until Bellatrix, your other aunt, turned her head with all the pureblood nonsense our parents also espoused. Bella, however, was much more vociferous in her beliefs, like many of our Black relatives, than our parents ever were. While they also disdained Muggles and their ways, supported pureblood values and ideals, they did not support the actual genocide of Muggles. Rather, that the wizarding world simply keep to itself, keep pure, and not associate with them at all. Bella fell in with the darker crowd. She was matched and married to Rodolphus Lestrange and was happy to be the wife of such an upstanding pureblood who also embraced the darker side of those values, and she did not hesitate to constantly endorse those values on your impressionable mother. Bella could be quite cruel to your mother, bullying her into things she may not have otherwise agreed with. I tried to intervene, but Bella was quite relentless, and I will admit to you now, I have, and always will, regret I did not do more to keep Cissy away from Bella's influence."
She paused to sip her tea, and smile tightly at her husband, who rubbed her arm consolingly. Draco remained silent, waiting for her to begin speaking again, fascinated at this inside look to his mother's past. It was a past she rarely spoke of in regard to her sisters, and then only dismissively, fleetingly.
"Your mother met your father here at school, of course. We were all Slytherins, and our parents were all acquainted. I never cared for Lucius, he was arrogant and snobbish, and he was quite taken with your mother from the moment he saw her. Not surprising, Cissy was always the beautiful one, even when we were small, the standout, with her blonde, delicate beauty, especially compared to Bella and myself, with our dark hair and eyes. Lucius and Cissy made an undeniably beautiful couple, but it saddened me to see her fall for such an arrogant, cruel man, although, of course, he was never cruel to her. Our parents were happy she'd made such an outstanding match, and Bella was ecstatic, of course. Lucius was friends with Rodolphus from childhood, and embraced all the same values. I felt Cissy slipping away, the influence of Bella and Lucius was too strong. I lost her completely, lost them all completely, when I married Ted, of course.
It wasn't entirely unexpected that I would," she continued. "Especially from my parents, who felt betrayed, or from Bella, whom I'd already been more or less estranged from for some time at that point. While I knew and understood Cissy would not be happy, I did not expect her to turn her back on me totally, nor did I expect complete ostracisation from the family as a whole, and Cissy in particular. It was she that broke my heart most, that I regretted most, but I made my peace with it. I had Ted, whom I loved and do love deeply, and his family embraced me as one of their own, even though I was a babe in the woods to their way of life. Completely helpless, actually. I knew nothing, raised as you were, with house elves to do everything, the thought of working for a living, actually using my own hands to sustain myself was completely alien to me. Yet, instead of mocking me for my ineptitude and naiveté, and hating me for my helplessness and reliance on magic, my Muggle mother-in-law took me under her wing and without hesitation, taught me how to properly cook and keep house, how sew and knit, how to create things with my own two hands, and to take pride in my small accomplishments. In turn, I could use my magic to make her life easier in small ways, such as levitating heavy things, accomplishing a time consuming task quickly when she was rushed for time, brewing simple potions for minor ailments. She, of course, had Ted to do these things before I came along, but in asking me to now do them, taught me how to see the best of both worlds, and learn how to meld them together. I had thought that I was fairly open minded before I married Ted, but my Muggle mother-in-law opened my eyes to my own arrogance at being so heavily dependent on my magic. Made me realise that I had been quite closed minded in my own unawareness of the value in learning to do things for myself. Of the satisfaction to be found in creating something without the use of magic, with my own hands. Learning these things made me look at my painting with a new eye, realising for the first time that I had been capable all along. Had already used my hands to paint, and my magic to make what I painted come 'alive'. I'd always looked at the magical aspect of it before, overlooking the Muggle aspect completely."
"But you still had your magic, you still had your wand," Draco pointed out. "You didn't really have to learn all that. You could have done it all with your wand. You could have found a house elf from somewhere, I'm sure. You must have had wealthy friends that were half bloods or something you could get one from."
"This, this mindset of yours, is, again, precisely why I am insisting you take the class, Draco " his aunt said, clearly annoyed.
"But I'm not you," Draco insisted, "I don't need to deal with Muggles. I don't need to exist in their world."
"Your view is understandable given how you were raised and who did the raising," his aunt said. "But that view, that typical wealthy pureblood view, as much as you and your father would like to believe that is the only view worth possessing, is arrogant and close minded, Draco. You like to think that wizarding society can survive with only that point of view, but you are wrong. That world view, that complete disregard and disdain for Muggles is what will be the downfall of the wizarding world."
Before Draco could protest, his uncle chimed in. "Son, the wizarding world population is small. There are only a small number of purebloods left. Sooner or later they'll become too inbred to survive. They'll have no choice but to interact with Muggles eventually. To think otherwise is ignorant and foolhardy."
"I sincerely doubt that, Uncle," Draco scoffed. "The British pureblood population is small, but there are foreign purebloods as well."
"Draco," his aunt said. "The wizarding population of the world is minuscule compared to the Muggle population, and purebloods typically have small families. Eventually, perhaps not in your lifetime, but the purebloods will become too inbred to continue. This is an inevitable fact, however much you or your father choose not to believe it."
"Even if what you say were true," Draco said stubbornly, "And we had to turn to Muggleborns or even Muggles, eventually they would be bred back to pureblood lines."
"In the meantime, how do you propose to keep those Muggles from doing things for themselves? They have no magic of their own, are wizards going to be at hand to do everything for them, or will they just call in the house elves to do it for them?" His aunt scoffed. "What if those Muggles only produce squibs? Then where is your pureblood line?"
Infuriatingly, Draco could think of no answer to that, and after a moment of fruitless consideration, lost his temper and shouted, "But what's that got to do with me taking your stupid class?"
"It has to do with expanding your worldview " his aunt said with obvious annoyance now. "Opening your closed little pureblood mind to a different way of life, to tolerance, something you are sadly lacking in, and reigning in some of that insufferable arrogance you share with your father."
"So you're going to punish me because you hate my father," Draco retorted. "How very tolerant of you, Aunt."
His uncle, his expression thunderous, made to reprimand him again, but his aunt stayed her husband with a hand on his arm.
"No, Draco," she sighed. "Firstly, it's hardly a punishment, it's simply a class. Secondly, although I will admit it is true I do not care for your father in the least, I insist you take the class because I care about you as my sister's son, and my nephew. I see you as more than your father's son. I want you to be more than that. I want you to be your own person, with your own ideas and principles, instead of just a parrot of your father. I want you to expand your mind and open it up to other ways, other experiences, so that you can make informed decisions about your own life instead of just towing the line and doing what's expected of you. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"You think I'm just a replica of my father, whom you despise, and that I can't think for myself," Draco said sullenly. In his heart he felt a whisper of truth to that, but he wouldn't admit she could be right.
"I don't want you to be," she said simply.
"Well, you're wrong," he said. "And I am thinking for myself in telling you I refuse to take this class!"
Her expression turned hard, and she said flatly, "You're taking it."
"You can't make me!" Draco said angrily.
"You're taking it, or you're not playing Quidditch," she retorted just as angrily.
"You can't stop me playing Quidditch!" he shouted. "I don't need your permission, I didn't even need Father's permission!"
"But I can confiscate your broom," she said, her voice as hard as her expression."Then you'll have to make do with a school broom. Good luck winning the Cup on one of those. I doubt they've been changed since I was in school."
Some Slytherin she was! Draco thought with outrage, jeopardising her own House like that!
"You have no loyalty at all," he said with a good deal of heat in his voice.
"Take the class or I take the broom. Your choice."
"Alright you two," his uncle interjected, "Draco, Son, how about a compromise? Take the class for the first term, and if you truly still think it a waste of time, we'll talk about other options for the following term."
"Ted!" his aunt sputtered.
He bowed his head in deference to his wife's outburst, but told her, "Andy, it's only fair. I'll be the one teaching, and frankly, if he truly doesn't want to be there, I'd rather not have him disrupting those who do. BUT, " he added, turning back to Draco,"you have to take it this first term, and you have to behave and truly give it a chance. Understood?"
Draco looked from his uncle to his aunt, his insides again a mess of indecision and confusion. He was being given a choice, something he was unaccustomed to, and that whisper was back again. The one that said his aunt was right. Draco realised, Father rarely gave him options or choices. No, he usually told Draco what to do, and Draco proper little pureblood scion he was, did what was expected, whether he liked it or not.
Draco loved and admired his father, he did, but in his heart, he often felt resentment and annoyance with him, although he never showed it. Because opposition was neither expected, nor tolerated. Merlin, she was right! He was so unaccustomed to thinking for himself he realised he didn't know what to do. He was being given a choice, a decision to make, on his own. A shitty one, but a choice of his own nonetheless. He felt embarrassed at himself that this was throwing him into such a quandary.
He pondered the choice. Waste his time taking the class, possibly enduring ridicule from his housemates, or not taking the class and lose his beloved broom and any chance of catching the snitch no matter which team they played, on a rubbish school broom, not to mention the ire of the rest of the team, and having to think up a plausible lie about where his own broom was. Either way, somebody was going to be on his arse for something. The question was, which was the more endurable? Ridicule for the class, or possible retaliation for a shit Quidditch performance?
Fuck me, he thought, in frustration I'm screwed either way! Still, he thought morosely, Flint was unlikely to resort to violence over him taking Muggle Studies as opposed to obliterating their chances at the Cup.
Ridicule was one thing, but Flint was an intimidating hulk who was not opposed to making his feelings known with his fists or a couple of well-placed curses, and Draco valued his limbs. Muggle Studies it was, he decided, angry that it really wasn't much of a choice.
"Fine," he snapped, "I'll take the bloody class."
"Good," his aunt said, neutrally.
"It'll be fine, Son, " his uncle said happily. "You may even surprise yourself and enjoy it."
"May I be excused? I find I've lost my appetite." Draco said, standing up. His aunt waved him off, obviously still annoyed with him, and he was finally free. He made headway to his room, closing them both out, quickly undressed, and crawled into bed, pulling the blankets up and hiding from the confusing turn his life had taken.