A Year Like None Other by aspeninthesunlight
Past Featured StorySummary: A letter from home sends Harry down a path he'd never have walked on his own. A sixth year fic, this story follows Order of the Phoenix and disregards any canon events that occur after Book 5. Spoilers for the first five books. Have fun!
Categories: Teacher Snape > Trusted Mentor Snape, Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Remus
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: Adoption, Slytherin!Harry, SuperPower! Harry
Takes Place: 6th Year
Warnings: Alcohol Use, Neglect, Self-harm, Torture, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: A Year Like None Other
Chapters: 96 Completed: Yes Word count: 810080 Read: 1379813 Published: 28 Feb 2007 Updated: 14 Sep 2007
House Colours by aspeninthesunlight

"Draco!" Harry shouted at Snape, incensed. "What do you mean, Draco will be baffled?"

Snape made a sharp motion with his hand. "We aren't behind warded doors any longer. Now, stay close to me as we make our way down. Students should be in class at this hour, but some enterprising soul may be lying in wait for us."

"I thought you were too all-fired intimidating to be attacked by your own Slytherins," Harry sniped, furious as he began to realise why Snape had made that comment about Draco.

"Unfortunately," Snape sneered back, "not every fool in Hogwarts gets sorted into Gryffindor."

Harry fumed, but after that he managed to shut up and follow Snape. Walking all the way to the dungeons was actually a lot more daunting than he would have expected. In the hospital wing, he'd got somewhat used to walking around half-blind, but the floor there was at least flat. Now, he was walking down slopes at times, and even staircases, some of them without handrails, and it was disorienting at best, downright scary at worst. Mad as he was, he still found himself having to clutch at Snape's arm at times. It was either that, or fall.

He couldn't help but realise it was a good thing it was Snape walking him down. Otherwise, he'd probably end up falling, since he still had this thing about touching anybody else.

Snape's rooms were down in the lowest levels of the castle, even further underground than the Slytherin quarters Harry had once visited in disguise. The halls down there were dark and gloomy, lit up only by Snape's muttered Lumos. After he said it, though, he gave Harry his wand to hold, so Harry figured that Snape could probably walk this route in the dark. Holding someone else's wand was rather interesting. It didn't make his insides glow like his own wand did, but it did sort of tickle at his magic, and make him want to spill some.

Snape's rooms weren't guarded by a painting or statue, or by anything at all, as far as Harry could see. The doorway was disguised as an uninterrupted expanse of stone. Even more strange, there wasn't a password like everybody else seemed to use. Well, Harry had concluded before that the man was positively paranoid, but as his own life depended on good security, Harry supposed he couldn't object too much.

Instead of talking to the wall, Snape set his hand flush against a stone. Taking up his wand again, he tapped his own fingers in some rapid sequence; Harry could only see it because the wand was still casting a narrow beam of light. Nothing happened, though. Harry was about to question that when Snape murmured, "I was simply telling it to expect another resident."

His grip firm, he placed Harry's hand, fingers splayed, on a lower stone, and tapped his fingers with the glowing wand, too. Harry couldn't tell if the sequence was the same. Snape pulled his palm away, and said, "It knows you now. Put your hand back; use the same stone."

Harry did, and the stone vanished to reveal a wooden door set into an archway. As it opened, it revealed brightly lit rooms within. Snape went to go inside, but Harry put a hand on his sleeve and asked, "Um, I don't need my wand working to get in?"

"No, though I'll set the door to require magic from you, too, as soon as that becomes feasible."

Impatient, Snape tugged Harry inside, just as the door began to close on its own. From the inside, Harry noted, it stayed looking like a door. Appropriate for a dungeon, too. Hard, thick planks of wood were welded together with thick iron strips.

"All right, what's all this about Malfoy," Harry gritted. "Spill."

"He's right behind you," Snape merely commented. "And as I'm sure you've reasoned out on your own, he's living here too, for the time being. Draco, would you show Harry around? I do believe I have some potions to tend."

With that, Snape was striding straight away, but not in the direction of the door. Harry squinted after him, bemused, then whirled around at the sound of a dry laugh.

Draco stood there, just as Snape had said, a blur of grey clothes leaning against the dark stone wall. "He doesn't, you know," the boy said, pushing off it and taking a step toward Harry.

"Doesn't what?"

"He doesn't have a potion brewing at the moment. I was just in there, I would know. That's Severus' oh-so-subtle way of saying he doesn't want to referee us all the time."

"What did he mean, you live here too?" Harry asked, warily backing up a step.

Draco's smeared visage either frowned at that, or gave a twisted little smile. Harry couldn't tell. "Just what he said. The headmaster and he moved me down here even before Pansy loosed that snake, but since then, I haven't been allowed to so much as leave."

"Pansy," Harry slowly repeated.

"Yeah."

"The way I heard it, nobody knows who incanted Serpensortia."

"Oh, they don't officially know," Draco answered, chuckling deep in his throat, "but I know. The look in her eyes, Potter."

Harry knew what look he meant; it was the way Malfoy usually looked at him. Harry squinted, wondering if the Slytherin boy was looking at him that way, just then. He couldn't really tell. "So what happened to Parkinson?" he asked.

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets, and scowled. "They fixed her up at St. Mungo's and sent her back."

"She was hurt?"

That time, there was no mistaking the smile curving the other boy's lips. "Oh, yes. You don't think I just let attempted murder slide, do you? Anyway, though, it got me kicked out of the only class they were still letting me attend. As if I needed Severus to protect me, anyway."

"If you feel that way," Harry pointed out, "you should just go back to Slytherin to live."

"Severus is a bit concerned that I'd be the only Slytherin left." Draco shrugged, then. "So. Do you want the tour? It's not much, but it's home sweet home." By the end, there, he was sneering, and Harry wasn't sure if he was just trying to insult Severus' quarters, or insinuating that he'd been disowned and couldn't go back to his own home, again.

"Uh, sure, the tour," Harry agreed, still wondering quite how to handle the whole situation. Normally he wouldn't have any trouble being completely rude to Malfoy, but Snape's nearby presence sort of put a damper on the impulse. The last thing he wanted was another be nice to Malfoy lecture, this one possibly delivered with Malfoy right there.

"All right," Draco agreed, his smooth voice easy. "How well can you see now, anyway? I wouldn't want you to trip and break your neck. Can you imagine the fit Severus would throw?" He actually laughed.

Harry didn't think that was so funny. "I can manage," he said in a tight voice. "Tour away."

"All right," Draco said again, stepping carefully around Harry so he didn't even brush against him. That was interesting. Snape must have warned him I get spooked when touched, Harry decided. "This, as you might have deduced already, if you can see at all that is, is--"

"The living room." Harry interrupted the pompous narration, gesturing around at the blobs that looked like couches and chairs. It was actually a lot more pleasant than he would have expected from Snape's rooms. Larger, too.

"Oh, please," Draco drawled, crossing his arms in a gesture that looked elegant even when blurred. "The living room. Do you realise quite how Mugglish that sounds?"

"I was raised by Muggles," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, yes, and some of your best friends are Muggles, no doubt," Draco breezed. "It doesn't mean you can't use proper language in a wizarding setting, does it? Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, this is the sitting room, sometimes referred to as a parlour. That's a bit of an old-fashioned word these days, though I have heard Severus use it on occasion."

Harry ground his teeth together again; he was getting a bit tired of Draco constantly saying Severus. "Are you giving me a tour or an elocution lesson?"

Draco had the gall to laugh again. "Oh, you didn't have enough of Sonnets that day? But of course I realised afterwards you mustn't have any appreciation for nuance, and rhythm, and metaphor. Your own composition was so appallingly blunt and crude. Heard back from your cousin yet, have you?"

Harry knew a certain satisfaction in drawling back, "Oh, Severus didn't mention? How remiss of him. Dudley's going to come here to live with us for a while."

That certainly wiped the mocking smile off Draco's face. "You're joking."

Harry beamed a smile of his own. "You think? Ask Severus."

"I doubt he'd want you calling him that," Draco sniped. "You haven't known him for ages, though from your behaviour in class I'd certainly hazard a guess that you've hated him for what must seem that long."

Harry kept right on smiling, though it was making his face ache a bit. Actually, he ached all over, but he wasn't going to show a trace of it, not in front of someone he didn't trust. "You're really in your own little world down here, aren't you?" he echoed Malfoy's words from hospital. "I don't hate him at all."

He was expecting Draco to gnash his teeth, at least, but the other boy just shrugged a bit. "Well, you're wising up then. That's worth something. Hatred between allies is not exactly useful, is it?" Draco drew his wand, which made Harry flinch, but all he did was hold it dangling from his hand, the tip pointed at the ground as he headed across the room toward a stone corridor. "Shall we resume?"

The hallway was short, and flanked at the end by doors on both sides. Draco flung them both open using his wand, giving a little flourish with his hand as he explained. "Now, this is Severus' private office. He doesn't keep it locked as you can see, and he doesn't seem to mind me coming in if he's in there, too, but I have it on good authority that I will die a messy, painful death if I step over that threshold when he's not within. I'd imagine the same applies to you." Draco turned and pointed at the other open door. "This one's his bedroom. We're not welcome in there at all. He's got his own bath in wizardspace tucked into that wall, there. Slytherin legend holds that it's fabulous, but of course it's probably not as nobody seems to ever have seen it." Draco smirked. "Besides, Severus just doesn't seem the type to lounge about in the tub, does he? I can't picture that."

Harry was having a hard time even listening to blather about it, but that was nothing to his irritation with the effortless way Malfoy seemed to swing between antagonism and casual ease. "Office, bedroom, living room," he grated. "Got it. Can we move on now, or do you have more commentary about the Professor's bathing habits?"

Draco strode back out into the living room. "There's no kitchen, because of course wizards have far better things to do than cook, Merlin forbid, but here is the fireplace where you can shout your requests over to the house-elves. Take my advice though, and don't ask for anything in a Béarnaise sauce. They simply have no notion how to get it right, though they do make a passable Hollandaise . . ."

"Do you have to try to be such a pretentious git, or does it come naturally?"

"If you mean my aristocratic bearing and sense of culture," Draco smoothly replied, "it's a gift. Now, where was I? Oh, yes." He strode past the fireplace and waved a laconic arm toward a deep alcove containing a large round table surrounded by four wooden, straight backed chairs. "That's where we indulge ourselves with fine food and witty conversation three times a day." Moving slightly to the left, he indicated a closed door to the side of the alcove; this time he made no effort to open it. "Through there is Severus' private potions laboratory, and a couple of storerooms filled with the most delightful ingredients. Really interesting. He hasn't minded me poking about at all, but then, I've a great talent for brewing as you've no doubt noticed."

"Why does the Professor need a lab down here?"

Draco gave him what seemed to be a rather suspicious look. "Oh, I know you're a Gryffindor, but honestly, you can't be as innocent as all that, can you?" When Harry didn't respond, he shrugged and went on, "He was posing as a Death Eater, Potter. Now, what do you suppose they have their friendly neighbourhood Potions Master do for them, hmm? He had to brew up all sorts of nasty stuff, things he couldn't let the children see, see?"

"But he let you?" Harry bit out.

"Gryffindor really is synonymous with imbecile, then," Draco scathed. "No, he didn't let me see! Severus has a brain, Potter! He knew what I was being groomed for; he was hardly going to let me watch as he adulterated the Dark Lord's poisons! I understand the principles involved in potion making, you know. Unlike that complete git he pretended to serve, I would have known why his potions didn't have quite the intended effect, time after time."

"So how do you know he was brewing anything at all, then?"

"Oh, I used to hear my father talk." Draco suddenly drew in a sharp breath and brusquely announced, "Sorry, Potter, I wasn't meaning to mention him. Won't happen again. All right, what's next? Well, that's about it actually, except for our room."

"Our room," Harry echoed faintly, still thrown off balance by Draco's conciliatory comments the moment before.

"Of course," Draco smoothly informed him, all discomfort gone from his voice. "Just how much of his private space did you expect Severus to give up for us? Of course it's been my room for a few days now, so I'm contributing to your well-being too, you understand."

Harry certainly didn't like the idea of rooming with Draco, but was also uncomfortable at the idea of inconveniencing Snape. "The Professor had to change his quarters around?"

"Of course," Draco said again, "He'd hardly expect me . . . oh, or you either, I suppose, to sleep on a couch, Potter. Anyway, my room --oh, our room, right, that'll take some getting used to-- used to be Severus' private library, but he moved his books into his office. They wouldn't have fit, but he spent most of an hour spelling together the most amazing wizardspace, so that's all right, then. And he did a bit of rock magic to shift a storeroom so I could have a bit of a wash without pestering him. Anyway . . ." Draco led the way to a door right next to where he'd been leaning before the tour had started. "Voila."

Harry pushed it open, and stepped into a room that held little more than elaborate twin beds on opposite walls, an antique mahogany wardrobe, and two student trunks. Through an open door he could make out the fuzzy shape of a small but functional bathroom.

"Pitiful, I know," Draco lamented. "Honestly, I've seen cupboards larger than this."

Harry gave him a sharp look, wondering if that was some sort of dig, but Draco appeared to be oblivious, rattling on, "And now I have to share it, too."

Harry thought the room would be splendid if not for that aspect. "Which bed is yours?"

Draco sighed and murmured, "Oh, I could hardly care. Take your pick, Potter."

"I'll pick the one that you haven't been sleeping in, thank you. And so?"

"I transfigured my nice comfortable double bed into separate ones this morning, when Severus said he'd be bringing you down," Draco airily announced.

"You transfigured--" Harry cut himself off. So Malfoy was good at Transfiguration, at all his subjects, actually. Well, he wasn't as good as Hermione. That was worth something.

"Yes. Do you like the colours?" Draco put in. To Harry's ears he sounded snide, as well he might. The bedcovers were, predictably, silver and green. So were the oval rugs lying parallel to each bed, and the curtains half pulled back around each bed.

Really, Harry thought it would be immature to demand his side be made over into Gryffindor colours. He wasn't even sure what Draco was trying to prove. "They're lovely," he said, picking the nearest bed and dropping down onto it. The room sort of spun a bit as he relaxed, and only then did Harry realise how tired he was getting. "You should look into a career in interior design."

"Auror," Draco corrected.

"Oh sure, Draco Malfoy as an Auror," Harry sneered. "Like they'd ever trust you."

"Potter," Draco said, his voice suddenly serious, "someday, even you will trust me."

"I trust you right now!" Harry shouted. "I trust you to run home the moment you learn anything your father's lord and master might find useful!"

"Are you stupid? I can't go home!"

"Yeah, well I can't go home either, can I?" Harry retorted. "Your father ordered my house crushed to smithereens!"

"Oh, don't be a git, Potter," Draco retorted right back. "Hogwarts is your home. You were treated worse than shite in that house. Word gets around."

"Gets around Death Eaters, you mean!"

"Yeah, well I'd have figured out something was up anyway, wouldn't I, from that bizarre letter? You can't possibly give a flip about your cousin, writing him crap like Every time you smell a steak, for the rest of your life, you'll think of your father . . . what were you trying to do, make him burst out crying? You may be the hero of the age and all that, but you're pretty twisted, if you ask me!"

Harry swallowed, and gestured rather incoherently, and something about all that must have given the game away, for Draco suddenly executed a sweeping bow, and drawled, "Oh, why thank you. I should have realised at the time that you had no intention whatsoever of owling that letter. I'm honoured that you went to such great effort to insult me."

When Draco stepped forward, Harry darkly wondered what Snape would have to say if his wild magic came lashing forth and did some real damage to his private quarters.

Draco stopped moving, maybe at the look in his eyes; Harry wasn't sure. "Well, you look done in," he said, his voice all at once perfectly polite and composed. "I have some studying to do, so I'll leave you be. Severus will be gone soon, he's got a class about to start, I think, but if you need anything, you can just let me know."

Yeah, right.

Harry was tired enough that he didn't say it, though. Shrugging off his cloak, he let it fall to the floor as he lay down on his side and pulled the pillow firmly beneath his cheek. He watched listlessly as Draco shook his head and levitated the cloak so that it would hang on a bedpost. Then the Slytherin boy left, closing the door behind him, but not all the way. Harry was beyond caring. He shut his eyes and went to sleep.

-----------------------------------------------------------

The sound of a heavy door thudding closed woke him from his nap. Harry stretched a bit, opening his eyes to see if Draco had come back in, but the whole world had gone not-quite-black, a circumstance that was depressingly familiar.

A moment later, he realised that the loud noise must have been Snape returning; both his voice and Draco's emanated from outside his room. Relieved to know Draco wasn't in there watching him while he couldn't see, Harry sat up on his bed and smoothed his hair down.

"How is Harry?" He heard Snape's deep voice question.

"Sleeping," Draco said.

"Ah," Snape replied.

Harry heard the scraping noise of a chair being pulled out, and realised that the two of them must be back in the dining alcove. It was a bit odd, how acute his hearing had gotten. Harry wondered if it would return to normal when his sight came completely back.

For a few minutes he only heard occasional noises like the clink of a teacup on a saucer. Then Draco was commenting, "Potter seemed surprised to hear I'd sent Pansy to St. Mungo's." When Snape didn't reply, the boy pressed, "Why didn't you tell him?"

"I hardly think it benefits his current state of mind to know in detail just how hazardous your company can be."

"Well she did try to kill me, Severus. And right under your nose, too. You'd think allowances could be made. I'm not the one who should have been punished."

Something slammed closed. Book, maybe. "We have only your vague hunch that she was to blame for the snake."

"Oh, she's to blame," Draco tightly insisted, sounding like he was talking through his teeth. "Pansy knows I hate snakes."

A Slytherin who hated snakes? Harry was irrationally tempted to laugh, but didn't want to admit he was awake. A little niggling conscience told him that eavesdropping was really wrong, on a level with something Malfoy might do, but the practical part of his mind won out. How was he going to figure out Malfoy's schemes if he didn't take any advantage he could get?

"Why did you throw a snake at Potter in that duel, if you hate them so much?" Snape asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Well, if I hated them, I thought a Gryffindor would have to detest them ten times as much. But no," Draco sneered. "He has to go and be a Parselmouth and get on just fine with snakes!"

"That did rather eclipse your marvellous Serpensortia," Snape murmured, which apparently made Draco see red.

"It was marvellous!" he declared. "I'd like to know what other second-year, or even fourth-year for that matter, could cast that spell. But nobody even noticed that, oh no, not after Potter there decided he'd just chit-chat with the snake and become the talk of Hogwarts for months on end!"

"Hmm," Severus merely returned.

"At any rate, it was Pansy," Draco went back to insisting. "I know you don't know that just on my say-so, but all you have to do is drop a bit of Veritaserum on her tongue and that will be that!"

"Veritaserum is illegal."

"Didn't stop you from using it on me," Draco sneered.

"Your story was more improbable than hers," Snape firmly answered. "That's enough about Miss Parkinson."

Apparently, it wasn't enough for Draco. "Pansy should not be back here, flouncing around to classes again! It's going to make it more difficult for me to influence Slytherin."

"And how is that going?" Snape diverted the conversation.

"Well, it would go a fair sight better if you'd let me actually speak to anyone, you know, Severus."

"Not while tempers are still so hot. I'm tired of arguing this, Draco. You'll have to owl them for now, and that's final. Do you have any more letters for me to send?"

"Three."

A silence ensued, and Harry wondered if Snape was reading the letters to see just what Draco was writing his fellow Slytherins. When the conversation resumed, it took a strange turn that Harry couldn't quite follow.

"Did you tell him?" Snape was asking.

Draco seemed to understand what the question referred to. "No," he said shortly. "I can't think he'd appreciate it very much. To my way of thinking, you're reminder enough. Here, read this."

A moment passed, and then Snape said, "This reference was for my own use, Draco."

"I'm at least a week ahead in every class," Draco drawled. "What do you expect me to do down here all day, file my nails? Hmm, though, they are getting a bit ragged. Limare. There, that's better."

"I know you aren't stupid enough to go into my office," Snape darkly announced. "So how did you get this book?"

"Accio'd it from your desk in there," Draco breezed.

"I do not appreciate being lied to, Draco."

"Oh, fine. You left it out last night. Can I help it if I wonder what you've been poring over for the last few days?" A light shudder caressed his voice. "Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be a Muggle book. By Muggles, for Muggles."

"That didn't stop you from reading it, I observe," Snape shot back.

"No." A long pause. "Did you really tell Potter that wizards all have Muggles somewhere in their family trees? No exceptions?"

"Yes," Snape said.

Draco's voice was fainter when he replied. "Oh. That's . . . really rather gross. I actually feel a bit sick. I suppose you'll be offended if I ask if you're sure?"

"I have been in your place," Snape dryly announced. "I know it's disturbing. You'll get used to it, assuming you prefer knowing the truth to believing convenient lies. At any rate, I surmise that you and Harry must have done a bit of talking today?"

"We had a nice fight, as I'm quite sure you heard before you left." Draco merely said. "Good of you to stay out of it. I wouldn't want Potter there thinking I'm so hazardous that you have to rescue him from my evil clutches."

"You're the one who'll need rescuing if you get him angry enough to lose control."

"Hmm, his wild magic is really something," Draco murmured. "Shall I wake him for dinner?"

"Not yet. Are you really a week ahead in all of your classes?"

"Well, except Astronomy, but that's just because I'm waiting for answers to a few questions I owled the professor."

"Good," Snape approved. "You'll need to make sure you stay caught up, which will be harder now that you're to start tutoring Harry."

Draco sighed. "You really should recruit Granger, or somebody else. I can't tutor someone who every second will sit there thinking I'm about to hex him."

"And you wonder why I didn't mention Pansy to him," Snape mocked.

"Well, you saw," Draco insisted. "He lay there like a lump and let me drone on about potions, but he wasn't even listening! Besides, there's this thing with his magic. Wild outbursts aside, he won't even try to spell if I'm anywhere in the vicinity. I saw it in the hospital, Severus. He was practically itching to try out his wand, but he wouldn't do it, not with me there."

"I have great faith in your powers of persuasion," Snape drawled.

"Yeah, I get that," Draco groaned. "What you mean is, don't fuck it all up like you did with Slytherin that night."

"Language," Snape rebuked. "But yes. You should have worked Slytherin from the inside, instead of alienating yourself so thoroughly that even the half-bloods and Muggleborns were terrified to side with you."

Harry's jaw dropped open. What? Half-bloods and Muggleborns in Slytherin? Slytherin? SLYTHERIN?

"Whom do you think I'm owling?" Draco tightly replied.

Draco was owling the half-bloods and Muggleborns in SLYTHERIN?

Harry felt like his head might split open from the shock, and that was before Snape replied, "I know whom you're owling, you idiot child. Keep to the strategy we discussed. Now, let me read."

After that, they lapsed into a long silence. Harry stretched again, and fumbled his way into the bathroom, managing with some difficulty to take care of matters, even blind. All that practice in the hospital wing had helped.

Then, knowing he couldn't put it off forever, he made it back to the door of his room and flung it wide.

-----------------------------------------------------------

"Ah, Harry," Snape noticed him at once. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Harry lied, "other than needing the Elixir."

"Let's dose you then," Snape answered, his footsteps coming forward. "Draco, you see to dinner."

Snape took his arm in a firm grip, led him back into his room and sat him down on the bed, his fingers coming up to frame his face. "Ready?"

"Yes." Gritting his teeth, Harry opened his eyes wide and thought of Devon as Snape spread his eyelids apart. It helped. The physical sensation hearkened back to Samhain, but he kept the fear at bay with memories of care and comfort. Because this was care, too. It was just . . . difficult.

Harry blinked. "That's better."

He saw Snape looking down at him with a rather severe expression. "Are you getting on adequately with Mr Malfoy?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Harry murmured. He could have complained about some of the things Draco had said, but he didn't want to be some kind of crybaby or something. Besides, Draco had his fair share of complaints about Harry, too. The letter, for one. Snape would not appreciate that at all, Harry thought. Then again, there were things that Harry didn't much appreciate, either. "That was a nasty trick, not telling me he'd be here," Harry grumbled.

Snape laid a hand on his shoulder and lightly squeezed. "Yes, but now you get to hear me say Voldemort, which is apparently worth any sacrifice. Now, onto more important matters. Did Draco warn you not to go into my office?"

"Yeah, and your bedroom's off-limits too, I heard. What about your potions lab?"

"You can enter it if you need to, but don't brew anything unsupervised." Pausing, he incanted a Lumos and looked carefully into Harry's eyes. "The colour's definitely deeper and glossier than it used to be, and the scratches are nearly gone. Have you noticed any improvement in vision, other than the Elixir lasting longer than it did at first?"

Harry shrugged. "Things are getting less blurry. It's like you said, I think. It'll just take some time."

"Ah. Well, I realise you're on a somewhat different schedule than the rest of us after so long in hospital, but Draco and I will be dining momentarily. Do you feel up to joining us?"

"I'm not an invalid, Professor," Harry announced, standing up.

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As far as Harry was concerned, dinner became a synonym for insult the minute Draco Malfoy was put in charge of the preparations. They all sat down at the round table, Snape incanting Comiere to tell the house-elves they were ready, and what appeared?

Two lovely china plates full of elegant, obviously refined food, and one rather plain plate bearing a hamburger and chips.

Draco burst out laughing, and reached for his wine, which of course caused Harry to notice that the hamburger had come with juice. It was orange juice though, which was rather interesting.

"Draco!" Snape snapped. "When I asked you to set the menu I never dreamed--- Would you please explain why the two of us have crown roast of lamb in mint sauce with Duchess potatoes, while Harry only has that . . . repulsive looking thing?"

Draco was laughing so hard that he hadn't managed yet to sip his wine, so he certainly couldn't answer.

"It's obvious isn't it, Professor?" Harry grated. "He's making a point. His nasty father told him all about my awful childhood, so Draco's making me feel right at home! Though he really missed the point, I think. I should just wait around and have your scraps, assuming there are any. But then if we were being nostalgic, I'd have cooked as well!"

Harry stopped, because Snape was looking at him with a fair amount of horror in his expression. Meanwhile, Draco had stopped laughing.

"Sweet Merlin above," he drawled, "are you always so vain, Potter? The whole world is organized around you, right down to the catering?" He almost began to cackle again, but this time he swallowed some of his ruby red wine to quell the impulse.

"Well, you explain the menu plan, then!" Harry shouted.

Snape held up a hand for silence. "You told them to serve what suits, didn't you?"

"Yes, of course," Draco huffed, glaring at Harry. "It's not my fault your tastes are utterly plebeian."

"What?!?"

Draco twirled his wine glass in his hand, sipping it again before he spoke. "You have that to eat because you wanted it, Potter! Nothing to do with me."

"So why do you and the Professor have the same," Harry sneered, "if it's just a matter of individualization?"

"Hmm. Maybe it's the way I phrased it. I said, Send Severus and me something that will suit us. Oh, and Harry Potter will be dining as well. Send him whatever he would like."

Harry was still glaring, though by then he was beginning to feel a little bit foolish. "Oh."

"The funny part," Draco laughed again, "is that you could get so offended merely because you were provided what you wanted. Honestly, Potter!" He leaned over a bit, and asked in a puzzled tone, "Why is your pumpkin juice such a bright colour?"

"It's orange juice, Malfoy," Harry shortly answered. "I didn't think the house-elves knew what that was. We never get it here. But how come you get wine? That's not served to students!"

Draco shrugged. "Severus knows I like my meals civilized."

Harry didn't actually like wine, and didn't really want any, but he didn't like Draco getting special privileges, so he challenged Snape, "Can I have wine, too?"

"Oh, right, a nice robust Merlot will really go well with that . . . what is that, some strange Muggle sandwich?" Draco drolled.

"You can have wine when you're through taking potions," Snape announced. "Mixing alcohol with the Elixir could be deleterious."

"Besides," Draco put in with a sneer, "wine like this would be wasted on you. I can't think you would have the palate for it, Potter."

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Be quiet, both of you!" Snape roared. "I am not having every meal disrupted by this petty bickering!"

"I didn't ask to come live here," Draco exclaimed.

"Yeah, well neither did I," Harry shot back.

"Nevertheless, you are both here now, and I will not have my home become a battleground, is that clear? I had thought the two of you mature enough to put your differences aside in the interest of a common cause."

Sure, just like Snape had done with Sirius, Harry bitterly reflected.

"What common cause?" he questioned out loud. "I told you, Professor, this is just some weird stunt of his to catch us unawares, or something."

"You ungrateful prat," Draco snarled. "I should have just snapped your wand and brought it to you in pieces!"

"Oh sure, he's on the up and up," Harry mocked, glancing at Snape.

The professor, however, was not amused. "We are going to set some ground rules," he grated, his voice cold and determined. "Harry, you may think what you wish but you will not deride Draco's loyalties out loud to him. Draco, you will not taunt Harry about his wand, or magic, or vision. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Draco murmured.

"Yeah, all right," Harry muttered.

"And you will call each other by your first names," Snape smoothly continued.

"What? Oh no, I won't," Harry grumbled. "It's not like Malfoy there is my friend."

"I really think that Potter suits him better," Draco put forth.

Snape glanced between the two of them, and hissed, "Ten points from Gryffindor; ten points from Slytherin."

"You can't take points from Slytherin!" Draco exclaimed, "You never take points from Slytherin! It's . . . it's . . . well, its un-Slytherin of you!"

"It's also just been done," Snape announced, picking up his wand and waving it. "The counters have been adjusted. In fact, with a little research, I'm sure I could spell my quarters to automatically inform the counters whenever either one of you contravenes my wishes."

"Don't do that," Draco exclaimed. "I guess I can call him Harry." He did rather sneer it, though, Harry noticed.

"Harry?" Snape prompted.

Determined not to be outdone by Malfoy, Harry shrugged. "Draco it is, then. Anyway, we might as well. We're about to have a Muggle houseguest and all this last names business would really make him uncomfortable." He threw an evil grin at Malfoy as he said it, then picked up his hamburger and took a big bite.

-----------------------------------------------------------

After the house-elves had magically whisked away the dirty dishes, Draco excused himself and left Snape and Harry sitting at the table alone.

"Wonder what he's up to now," Harry mused, eyes narrowed. "I don't believe he really needs to wash his hair."

Snape sighed. "He washes it every night. I do wish you could learn to be just a little less suspicious of him, Harry."

"For all I know, he's going through my things right now," Harry insisted, patting his pocket and relieved to feel the letter still in it. "You know, Ron said the other day that Dumbledore had returned my dad's invisibility cloak. I bet it's in the trunk the house-elves sent down here. What if Draco steals it?"

"You are being utterly ridiculous."

"He said you moved some rooms around," Harry mentioned. "Couldn't you do that again and um, get us separate places to sleep? Really, I don't need much space."

"You are afraid he'll hex you," Snape murmured, almost to himself. "Harry, he won't. What would be the point?"

"Well, I'd tell you, but I don't want to give him any smart ideas! Use your imagination, Professor!"

"I thought you'd be a little less irrational about him after you heard him mention the Veritaserum, Harry."

Taken aback, Harry gasped, "You knew I was awake?"

"I suspected our voices would wake you," Snape corrected. "Harry, listen to me. The headmaster and I have more reason to believe him than just his word. When he brought us your wand, we interrogated him using truth serum. Draco does not want to be a Death Eater and he does not approve of what happened to you on Samhain."

"Why didn't you tell me before that you used truth serum on him?"

"There are some things I want Draco to tell you for himself. Just as I could have returned your wand myself, but asked him to do it."

Harry put his head down on the table, groaning. "Serum or no serum, I can't trust him, Professor. It's as simple as that. It's an instinct."

"Maybe you'll feel differently later," Snape merely replied. "He'll be teaching you your subjects; you did gather as much?"

"Yes," Harry admitted.

"You're to let him, Harry. That means trying spells when he says, even if you fail at it."

"Even when I fail at it, you mean," Harry bitterly returned, rolling his face to the side. After a moment more, he sat up. "How am I supposed to catch up to everyone else, when my magic's in such a repressed state that I can't do first-year spells?"

"Practice those too. Try Occluding your mind first; that may help you reach into your dark powers. But above all, and I mean this quite seriously, Harry, be honest with Draco about how your own efforts feel to you. He has great intuitive talent for magic--"

"All that inbreeding," Harry put in.

"Perhaps so, but the talent is there. Will you do as I ask?"

"He has to be nice to Dudley," Harry proposed in exchange. "Really nice."

A voice sounded from behind them. "I've no intention of terrorizing your bereaved cousin," Draco announced, sounding sincere for once, instead of oozing with sarcasm and dark intent. "I have perfect manners when I want to use them. You'll see."

Harry turned, but at that distance, the other boy was just a blur.

"Severus, will you please excuse us?" Draco inquired, perhaps trying to demonstrate some of his perfect manners. "There's something I'd like to show Harry."

"Good night," Snape said, standing up. "No sleeping in tomorrow. You may not be going to classes, but you'll be on a Hogwarts schedule from now on." Reaching into his robes, he drew forth two vials and handed them to Harry. "You recognise these by now, I trust?"

Harry touched each in turn. "Yeah. Painless Sleep and Dreamless Sleep. Um, I thought maybe I could stop taking so much of them."

"As you wish," Snape agreed. "But keep them in case you have need. One swallow only," he warned. With that, he was striding off toward his own bedroom.

"Well, come on, Harry," Draco urged, laying a little bit of sarcastic stress on the name. Not too much, Harry realised. More like he was uncomfortable using it. "I want to see what you think of something." He disappeared back into their shared room.

When Harry followed him through, he was bemused to see that his own bed curtains, rug, and bed coverings had all been transfigured into beautiful, glowing shades of crimson and gold. Draco's side of the room hadn't changed.

"I don't get it," he murmured, looking around. "I mean, before, you wanted to rub my nose in the fact that I'm stuck down in Slytherin territory."

"No, I didn't," Draco returned, walking over to sit on his own bed, facing Harry, who sat down too, then, and stared across the narrow space separating them. "That wasn't it. I just thought . . ." He cleared his throat, and made a show of looking at the wall as though he found it of great interest. "I thought that if I did the whole room in my colours, you'd have to ask me to change them, see? And then that would be something I could do for you. Not much, of course, but I thought it would be a start. To show you that . . . I would do something for you, if you asked."

Harry blinked, considering all that. It seemed a very Slytherin way of going about things.

"But you never asked," Draco said, a note of complaint in his voice.

"You could have offered," Harry pointed out.

"Well, I might have, but by then I wasn't feeling too charitable, as I'd just figured out what that little exercise in correspondence was all about. Dear Dudley," he scoffed. "And people say I'm evil."

"I actually didn't think you would sit there and write it all out like that," Harry exclaimed. "I just wanted you to leave! Didn't I make that perfectly clear? And you wouldn't, so then I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone, you know. Let you know how awful you've been, how much you've hurt people, and get you to finally get out, too!" Harry paused, and then ventured, "Why didn't you leave as soon as the letter turned nasty?"

Draco put his hands on either side of his legs, and leaned forward a little. "Well, at first it was because I didn't want you complaining to Severus that I hadn't helped you after I'd said I would. And then, when you really started to let fly, I suppose I thought you must need to get it all off your chest, and it was better to get it over with, because then maybe you'd calm down and we could . . . ah, get past that."

"It's quite a bit to get past," Harry dryly remarked.

"Well, I got over five-plus years of you taunting and upstaging me, didn't I?"

"I don't know," Harry slowly said, careful not to deride Draco's loyalties even while he made it clear he didn't trust them. "Whatever you've done, you didn't do it out of love for me. You can't convince me that just because I got tortured you had this sudden change of heart. That doesn't make sense, and no offence, but that's not who you are. It's not even close."

Draco abruptly unbuttoned the cuffs on his grey shirt and pulled up his sleeves to show his bare, unmarked forearms. "This is who I am," he quietly asserted. "I'm my own man. I'm not his." And then, when Harry didn't react, he added, "Can you see from there? I'll come show you--"

"I can see you're not marked."

"But it doesn't make a difference to you," Draco bitterly realised. "Oh, that's irony for you. You trust Severus, who is, but not me, who isn't."

Harry just shrugged.

Draco shrugged too, after a moment, and added, "Anyway, about the colours. I thought I'd better just go ahead and change your side to Gryffindor. Otherwise, every time you came in the room you'd probably look at all the green and think dark thoughts about me."

"I didn't care very much about the colours one way or another," Harry admitted.

"So I'll change them back?" Draco asked, his voice lilting a bit.

"No," Harry laughed. "Leave it now."

"Hmm, might as well, as Severus warned me your friends are allowed to come down," Draco groaned in mock agony. Or maybe part of it was authentic. "I'd just hate for them to think I was mistreating you."

Harry set his potions down, and carefully said, "I suppose it would be asking too much for you to demonstrate your perfect manners when they come, too."

"Depends on them," Draco muttered. "I'm not the one always starting things."

That wasn't how Harry saw matters, but he let it go. "Well, there is something else you could do for me, if you would," he ventured, more to gauge Draco's reaction than for any other reason. "If you are going to go and wash your hair, could you finite the lights in here, first? I'm really tired and I'd like to go to sleep, straight away."

Draco nodded, though he said, "You wash up first, all right, and then I'll do the lights."

A few minutes later, after Draco had incanted spells to make the stone walls stop illuminating the room, Harry pulled his bed curtains closed and changed into his pyjamas. He heard the sound of water running, and of all things, Draco singing in the shower. But then the world began to fade away, and Harry drifted into a sleep that was dreamless even though he hadn't taken any potion.

He clutched his mother's ring as he slept.

The End.
End Notes:

Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:

Chapter Thirty-Five: Reciprocal Magic

~

Comments very welcome,

Aspen in the Sunlight



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