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: 1379944 Published: 28 Feb 2007 Updated: 14 Sep 2007
Students and Saviours by aspeninthesunlight

Harry sighed as he sat down to Sunday lunch with his family. He'd spent the whole morning working on his Occlumency, but he hadn't made any progress at all. After his success at mastering it earlier that year, Harry had been sure that he'd be able to switch from using a fire-image to some sort of snake. Maybe a trail of fire that looked like a snake. Something. All he needed was a little guidance. His Dad inside his mind again, showing him how to make it work.

But it hadn't worked. Not at all, and Harry felt miserable. And not just that, but hot and sweaty as well.

"I'm no good at Occlumency either," Draco glumly confided. "At least you know how to do the usual kind. I can't even get that down."

"Stop exaggerating, Draco," Snape said as he joined them at the table. He looked as worn out and frustrated as Harry felt. "Your skills are coming along."

So . . . apparently Snape had taken Harry up on his suggestion that Draco should learn to Occlude. That was nice. He wondered why they hadn't mentioned it to him, but figured it didn't really matter. Maybe Draco hadn't wanted to say anything until he was pretty good at it. In that case, his saying something now, just to make Harry feel better . . . well, it was brotherly.

But then again, so was Draco. Sometimes, at least. The rest of his comments during lunch on Sunday made that clear.

"I've been considering your glasses-solution," he said, glancing pointedly at them before he began poking at the cheese topping on his French onion soup. "And really, I think it's a disaster in the making. You don't wear those monstrosities all the time, for one. What if next time you're attacked in the shower?"

"I suppose I won't shower in Slytherin. How's that?"

"Not very funny, considering how much your father trusted Wormtail when he shouldn't have."

"My friends are a whole lot more trustworthy than Wormtail!"

"Even the fifth-years? Even the seventh-years? How well do you know them, Harry?"

Well, Draco probably had a point there. Not that Harry thought he was right, but still . . . he paused to think a moment. "Oh. Well, my vision's not that bad, you know. I bet I could look down and see . . ."

Draco was busy pushing his cheese down into the soup by then, but that had him looking up. "Something . . .ah, snakelike?"

"Sals on the floor, I was going to say!" exclaimed Harry, blushing.

"You shower with her?" asked Draco in a haughty tone.

"No, but I will. And I'll keep her box on my night-table so I can look at her if my glasses are off at night, all right? Not that I expect to be attacked in my bed."

"I still say, a tattoo's the way to go. Look, we could charm it with something really powerful so the image couldn't be obscured or burnt off or whatever."

Harry folded his arms, obstinate. "Severus found a way to get around the Dark Mark, Draco. The Dark Mark Voldemort himself applied. I think that establishes pretty clearly that a mark can be messed with no matter how it's warded. No way am I getting one."

Draco shoved away his bowl. "Listen, Harry--"

"Why aren't you eating the soup you ordered?" Harry crossly interrupted. "I don't think you've even tasted it! After all your whinging about the boring food they serve in the Great Hall, too!"

Draco narrowed his eyes like he hadn't overlooked the change of subject. "It smells wrong."

"What, off?"

"No, wrong. Like Dobby's had a hand in." Draco sighed. "Nothing I order tastes right. I noticed it at breakfast as well--"

Snape put down his forkful of quiche and pulled Draco's soup bowl towards him. "It smells like caramelised onions and Gruyère cheese, Draco."

"There's something else in there," the boy insisted. "And the cheese! It's just a little bit too yellow, don't you think?"

"I think you're paranoid," Snape said bluntly. "Eat."

Harry thought Snape was a fine one to talk after he'd skipped meals for months, but then again, someone actually had been trying to poison the man. Whereas Draco suspected Dobby for no good reason at all.

Well, except a guilty conscience. Actually, that Draco could have one was encouraging.

Harry got up from his meal and yelled for Dobby.

The elf appeared in the wink of an eye, wearing several baggy sweaters and a top hat. "Harry Potter is needing Dobby?"

"Yeah." Harry stopped to think, something he probably should have done a minute earlier. Snape's expression said he thought so, too. "Um . . . you'd do me a favour, wouldn't you, if I asked?"

Dobby's hat jiggled as he bounced on the balls of his feet. "Oh, yes, Harry Potter! Yes, yes!"

"Well, Draco feels bad about the whole fairy cake thing. You remember. He's worried the elves are still mad about it and might put something in his food."

Dobby's eyes, huge in any case, got even bigger than usual. "House-elves?" He turned to Draco then and shook his head in emphatic denial. "No. Oh, no, no, no! Dobby must punish himself, now!"

"No!" yelled Harry, grabbing both Dobby's wrists before the little elf could start. "He didn't think you were doing it," he said, giving Draco a warning glance that he'd better not contradict him. "And I don't want you to tell the other elves, because I know they aren't doing anything wrong, all right? Draco's just upset. What I wanted was just a promise. I know you'd keep any promise you make to me."

"Oh, yes of course, Harry Potter sir!"

Harry let go of Dobby's wrists and turned to his brother. "And you, you'd believe Dobby would keep his promise?"

Draco curled a lip. "In general? Ha. But since he worships you, yeah, I suppose."

"He does not worship me!"

"He'd promise you anything."

Harry couldn't really dispute that, so he stopped arguing and tried to figure out how to word it. He didn't want to add to Dobby's food tasting duties. Actually, whenever he thought about those he still felt faintly ill. "Promise you won't let any elf . . . well, or anybody else, put anything harmful in Draco's food."

"I promise Harry Potter," said Dobby in a solemn tone. "Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. Poke a dagger through my toe, shove rocks where they should not go. Peel my skin back from my arm, do myself all sorts of harm--"

"That's enough promising," Harry interrupted.

"Yeah, how can you say stick a needle in my eye to Harry after Samhain?" demanded Draco. And then, to Harry. "Besides, you told me that was a Muggle oath."

"I thought it was." Harry cast a questioning glance at Dobby, who blushed a bright green.

"Dobby overheard a Muggleborn child and thought it would be making a fine elf-oath."

Harry had to repress an urge to shudder at the way Dobby had added to the original rhyme he must have heard. "All right. Well, that's all I needed, Dobby. Thanks for coming so fast. I'm sure Draco feels loads better now."

Dobby turned toward the Slytherin boy, but didn't say anything. He snapped his fingers and was gone.

"Well, that was awfully brusque," said Draco in a petulant tone.

"Do you feel better?"

Draco brandished his borrowed wand and banished his soup, then got up, tossed Floo powder into the grate, and ordered another identical bowl. "Some," he finally admitted as he began to eat. "But there's too much salt."

Harry laughed a little, buoyed not only by the humour but also by the casual way Draco had pulled his wand from his pocket, as if he was used to carrying it around, now. Yet another restriction Snape had lifted, it seemed.

But that made sense. If Draco was going to come back to classes, he'd have to have a wand to carry about.

 

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"Yes, Ron," said Seamus on Monday morning. "We know you rescued Harry. We know all about it. We read the papers, too, you know."

"Not to mention you've told us the whole story about twelve times," added Dean.

"And it just keeps getting better each time!" Seamus turned to Harry, the pumpkin juice in his goblet sloshing as he pointed with the hand holding it. "Did Nott really threaten to hex Ron to a puddle of mush if he didn't back off, and did Ron really reply . . . how did it go . . . Do your worst. I can take you any day of the week . . . well, Harry?"

Harry caught Ron's eye and grinned. "Hmm. Odd, I don't really remember that."

"Ha!" shouted Seamus, setting his goblet down with a thud.

"But then again, I don't remember much. It's all a blur," added Harry. He had to work hard not to laugh at the visible sigh of relief Ron gave to that.

"You shouldn't encourage him," said Hermione later on their way to Charms. Ron was walking a few steps behind, impressing some second-years with tales of his bravery. "He really is . . . milking this."

Harry shrugged. "Hey, the story in the paper yesterday morning was very complimentary."

"Ha. It was very inaccurate," said Hermione, tossing her hair.

"Hermione," warned Harry, giving her a strong glance. They were all supposed to support the cover story.

"That Skeeter woman said that Lavender Brown was his girlfriend!" she explained indignantly.

"Oh, that." Harry somehow managed not to grin.

"He should be up here with us, anyway, instead of basking in . . . Ron!" she suddenly shouted as she looked over his shoulder.

He jogged to catch up. "Sorry, Harry."

"You know, I'm not as helpless as all that," said Harry in an undertone. "I bet, if you hadn't . . . er, come when you had, I'd have been just fine, eh? Think you can tone it down a bit? The braver you get the stupider I look!"

Ron dropped his voice to a whisper. "Yeah, but that's good, I thought."

"Yeah, I know," said Harry, his own voice pitched equally low. "Oh well, doesn't matter. I just don't get how anybody could actually like so much attention." It came to him then that really, it was just as well that the press was giving all the heroics to Ron. Goodness knew, Harry didn't need or want any more acclaim.

And for all the things that were untrue in the article, the important things had come across nicely. Skeeter had even got Draco's name right. Phrases like fully exonerated, expelled without a shred of real proof, and innocent all along had made sure that the Prophet's readership knew what a raw deal Draco Snape had got.

Harry had been pretty surprised to see the article have such a tone. He'd expected Lucius Malfoy to interfere with the reporting. The fact that he hadn't was pretty scary, actually. Did he want Draco reinstated so that he'd be easier to snatch? His whole plan to force Draco out of the castle had failed miserably, after all.

But Dumbledore had that angle covered. Lucius couldn't enter the castle without an escort, now. Hmm, maybe Harry should mention that Draco really ought to start wearing his amulet again, so he'd know if Lucius was anywhere around . . .

"Harry?" Hermione poked him in the shoulder.

Only then did Harry realise he'd been wool-gathering. They were in Charms class by now, and the whole class was staring at him. So was Flitwick.

Realising he must have been asked a question, Harry went with a wild guess. "Um, four?"

"Excellent!" said Flitwick, nodding. "Two points to Gryffindor. Now, Miss Lovegood. How many different kinds of communication charms are there?"

Luna's breathy voice came from somewhere behind Harry and seemed to drift over the whole class like a slow-moving fog. "Well," she said, "it depends. When all it takes is hurlyburly to draw you into the zone of total silence . . . I had a hurlyburly whisper in my ear, once . . . Why, I couldn't even speak for days . . ."

Meanwhile, to Harry's left, Ron was whispering to Padma that no, he hadn't been scared in Hogsmeade. "There was no time for fear," he said, nodding sagely, just as if he really had fought Harry's battle for him.

Grinning, Harry wondered if Luna knew where he could hunt up one of these hurlyburlies.

 

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Care of Magical Creatures that afternoon was down by the lake. Nott wasn't there, of course, but the rest of the sixth-year Slytherins were. They glared at Harry like they'd like to drown him.

As if it was Harry's fault that Nott had turned out to be a murdering bastard! Pansy had been one of their own; didn't they even care that Nott had killed her?

It made Harry sort of worried about how Slytherin was going to treat Draco.

When Hagrid finished talking about the tiny waddlepaters that inhabited the waters lapping the shore, he told everybody to take off shoes and socks so they could wade in and collect some. Harry paired with Ron and soon they had their trouser legs rolled up past their knees.

"Now, see yer nice 'n careful collectin' yer waddlepaters," cautioned Hagrid as he lumbered around the groups of students, his meaty legs raising waves that lapped past Harry's knees. "Professor Snape needs 'em whole and wrigglin'."

Harry hadn't realised they were collecting the big-eyed bugs for potions ingredients, but he mentally shrugged and found a couple more to scoop into his pail.

Suddenly, something shoved him from behind and he found himself sprawling forward into the cold lake water. His glasses fell off but he grabbed them quickly and shoved them back up on his nose.

As Harry climbed to his feet once more, drenched and shivering, Ron took up a position as though to guard him, his wand out and waving. "All right, who did that? Which one of you pushed Harry?"

One thing was sure. Whoever had done it had used magic. Nobody but Ron was anywhere near him.

"I'll not have any roughhousin' in my class," bellowed Hagrid, his burly arms crossed. "That'll be ennuf a' that, it will!"

Hermione began edging closer to Harry, her partner Parvati trailing behind. Ron and Hermione kept a closer lookout after that, but nothing else happened.

It had just been a simple shoving hex, Harry told himself. He'd got wet, that was all. And he wasn't even wet for long, what with the drying charm Hermione cast over him as soon as she got close enough.

But still, the incident had unnerved Harry a little.

He was just glad he wasn't Draco, who had to go back to live among the snakes.

 

 

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"So when can we expect your brother back in classes?" asked Hermione brightly that night at dinner.

Harry put down his milk and wiped his mouth with his sleeve before he answered. "No idea. The governors have to meet first." He wondered if he should go ask Dumbledore if he'd managed to arrange anything yet, then decided it was way too soon to expect as much.

"Brother," muttered Ron. He caught the look Hermione threw him. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But still."

"I'm more worried about how Slytherin will treat him than anything else," admitted Harry. "And don't say again that he's going to bribe them to like him again, Ron. I think this has gone beyond that."

Ron closed his mouth, but the look in his eyes spoke for him.

Harry almost sighed. "Do I have to give you the same lecture I gave him? The one about how a person can have more than one friend?"

"Nah." Ron finished chewing his chicken leg. "Sorry. I'll just think of him as your Percy."

 

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"I sure hope we don't have to use the waddlepaters today," said Hermione the next afternoon as she pushed open the door to the Potions classroom. "When I plucked mine from the water, they just looked up at me so helplessly. Like they knew they were going to end up being boiled alive!"

"Potions class is no place for sentimentality," drawled Draco from a work table a short distance away. "I'd have thought you'd know that by now, Hermione." He inclined his head as the other Gryffindors trailed in. "Ron."

"Mal . . . Draco," Ron said, gritting his teeth slightly. He made as though to move on by, but Harry stopped by Draco, which made Ron stop as well.

"What are you doing here?" asked Harry.

Draco leaned on one hand, his posture laconic. A pose, Harry recognised. "Governors met this morning. Granted, they didn't apologise the way they should have for their appalling lack of judgment, but they did vote me back in."

"Why didn't you come join us for lunch?"

"Oh, Severus and I had to get my new wand registered." When Draco brandished it slightly, Harry saw it wasn't actually a new wand. That phrasing was probably just for the other Slytherins to hear. Severus had let his grandfather's wand be registered to Draco. That was nice.

Harry lowered his voice. "Did Lucius have to return the other one? I mean, I know you couldn't use it any longer now that your name has changed, but . . ."

Draco's hand clenched on his wand, which made Harry sorry he'd asked. "I'm sure he has it, still. That would be like him. Anyway, I've got this one officially, so I'm all set. So, how about you partner with me today?"

Harry glanced sideways at Ron. "Well, with Nott gone I sort of thought I'd work with Ron."

"Severus wants inter-house pairs today. He told me so."

Ron snorted. "Harry can work with me then, or have you forgotten he's in Slytherin?"

"Is he more Slytherin than Gryffindor?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "You aren't going to answer?"

"Listen, if you think you can just sail back in here and take over, you've got another think coming--"

Draco turned to Harry, and in that instant, Harry saw something he hadn't expected to see. Nervousness, lurking in those silver eyes. It came to Harry then that the last time Draco had been inside this particular room, Pansy had loosed a snake on him. He was probably worried that his remaining house mates didn't want him back and would try something. Clearly, he'd feel better with Harry by his side.

"I'll work with Draco," Harry said. "It's his first day back, and he's my brother. All right, Ron?"

"Yeah, all right."

Ignoring what Draco had said about Snape's wishes, Ron went to the table behind Harry, where Hermione was already setting up her cauldron.

When Snape strode in from his adjoining office, the door clanging behind him, he put an end to that. "Inter-house pairs today, ladies and gentlemen," he barked out. "Mr Zabini, has Miss Greengrass been re-sorted into Gryffindor? I thought not. Find yourself a partner!"

Once the students were paired to his satisfaction, Snape resumed speaking. "You will not have read this in the Prophet yet, but Draco Snape has been reinstated into Hogwarts as a student in good standing. I am sure he will do Slytherin credit."

Harry noticed then, that Draco's cloak once more boasted a snake crest. He told himself he wouldn't look at it if they had to do any charmed potions; he was going to get used to focussing on the snake etched into his glasses lens.

Snape waved his wand toward the blackboard to reveal instructions. "Avail yourselves of the student supplies as needed."

"Oh, this'll be a snap," whispered Draco when Snape turned his back.

Harry didn't think so; the potion had about a hundred and twelve steps. Or seemed like, anyway. At least this particular potion didn't have to be charmed. That was good. It was never very fun having to figure out new spells, though by now he was used to it.

"I'll just go get the live leeches," said Draco as he glanced over the dried and bottled ingredients Harry had lain out from his sixth year potions kit.

He stumbled on the way, which was so unlike him that when he got back, six fat leeches in his mortar, Harry quietly asked, "Everything all right?"

"Oh yes, certainly," said Draco brightly. A lie if Harry had ever heard one. He thought then that somebody must have cast a sneaky tripping hex that Draco hadn't quite managed to avoid. It struck him then that Draco was keeping his wand out, most often in hand, just like he was ready to defend himself if it came to that.

Harry hoped it didn't. Draco's idea of self-defence, after all, was what had got him kicked out of classes in the first place.

"Would you like to pulp the leeches or shall I?" Draco asked, still in that same over-bright tone.

"Ugh. You."

"Very well. You make the base. Mind you don't overheat it."

Harry could have done without being bossed around quite so much, but since Draco was already enough on edge, he didn't mention that. And really, it wasn't as though his brother was being completely overbearing. He'd practically volunteered to mash the leeches.

Snape began walking up and down the rows, commenting on the potions in progress. "More oil-of-clove, Mr Longbottom," he said in a level tone as he passed a few rows behind Harry. "Miss Greengrass, your base is about to scorch."

Harry was pretty impressed that none of Snape's comments were laced with insults. He was less impressed when he realised that Snape was merely saving up his ire.

For Hermione.

His deep voice came closer, a dark undertone in it when he spoke next. "Miss Granger. Your own base is decidedly too subfusc. Almost caliginous, in fact. Correct it at once."

Uh-oh. Harry could tell from the silence behind him that Hermione hadn't understood. And no wonder. Subfusc? Caliginous? He wasn't sure those were really words. Though goodness knew, Snape had an impressive enough vocabulary that he didn't need to make words up.

"How do I correct it, sir?" asked Hermione in a low voice.

"I'm surprised you have to ask, being as it's so very obvious. Surely you of all people can come up with the answer, Miss Granger."

When Hermione remained silent, Snape gave a loud sigh. "To correct it you must adjust your brewing technique to effect a more lambent appearance." His tone that would sound reasonable to anyone else, but Harry could still hear an angry edge in it. This was about Snape getting even for what had happened in Hogsmeade. He hadn't forgotten that Harry had been attacked while Ron and Hermione had been busy kissing.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I . . . lambent, sir? I'd appreciate more of an explanation. Please?"

"Didn't you come to class prepared, Miss Granger?" asked Snape, raising his voice so everyone could hear. "Of course, you are a Gryffindor. It's been my experience that Gryffindors hardly ever do the alternate readings--"

Draco strangled a laugh.

"See to your potion, Mr Snape," said the Potions Master. And when Draco didn't respond, "Mr Snape, when I give you an instruction in class it would behove you to reply to me!"

Draco still didn't say anything. In fact, he had a strange look on his face, like he was completely confused by the way Snape was talking. For a second, Harry was pretty sure one of the Slytherins had managed to cast Confundus without Snape noticing. But then, he realised what the real problem was.

"He means you," Harry hissed, voice pitched low. "You're Mr Snape, now."

Draco coloured, his fair skin flaming. "Oh." And then, a bit louder. "Yes, sir."

"Very good, Mr Snape," said their father, laying a little bit of extra stress on the name. Evidently he'd had enough of baiting Hermione, for he proceeded to tell her in normal English that her base was too dark and needed to be quite a bit brighter. "Stirring with a glass rod should prove efficacious, Miss Granger."

"Yes, Professor."

Draco waited until Snape had moved to the far side of the room before he spoke again. "Well, that was certainly refreshing. Little Miss Perfect put in her place for once."

"Actually my favourite part was you forgetting your own name," retorted Harry as he poured a small measure of water into their cauldron. "Didn't they call you Mr Snape at your reinstatement hearing?"

"What hearing?"

Harry turned to his brother. "Didn't you and Dad go to the meeting?"

"No. I got a letter through the Floo. From the headmaster, saying that I'd been cleared to return to classes. Then a few minutes later Severus came down and we went out to settle the matter of my wand."

"Dad went to the meeting without you?"

Draco shook his head. "He wasn't invited either. Don't you see? The governors didn't have the guts to face either one of us. It's a wonder they included the headmaster," he scoffed. "But of course with him they had no choice. Just as well, really. I didn't want to see Lucius, did I?"

Harry remembered that scene in the hallway from after the expulsion. Lucius making those horrible, creepy threats. "Yeah, just as well," he murmured.

"I should be hearing nothing but bubbling cauldrons," snapped Snape from across the room.

Well, that was better than him taking points, Harry thought. From then on, he and Draco only discussed the potion. It paid off, too. Near the end of class, when Snape made his usual survey of the cauldrons, he dispensed scorn and criticism to Gryffindors and Slytherins alike. But when he reached Harry and Draco's table, he raised an eyebrow.

"Promising, Mr Potter, Mr Snape. Good colour, not too dark . . ." Leaning over the cauldron, he inhaled deeply. "Adequate balance of components. This brew, I do believe, is worth testing."

Uh-oh. Right before his father spoke next, Harry had a sudden feeling he knew what was coming.

"Mr Weasley!" called Snape. "I'd like you to test your classmates' potion."

"Me?" The question came out in a squeaking tone. Ron gruffly cleared his throat and tried again. "Me, sir? Why not them? They made it!"

"Yes, and a poor reward it would be for their excellent work, to subject them to this particular potion." Snape's dark eyes gleamed. "Or is the hero of Hogsmeade, as I hear you are called now, afraid of a mere brew?"

Seamus and Dean started laughing, though they cut it out when Snape flicked a glance their way. The Slytherins, strangely enough, weren't even tittering. Harry figured they were still trying to decide how to act around their Head of House after the whole Nott incident. It made him wonder what Snape had had to do that night, to subdue them.

"I'm not afraid of it," insisted Ron, his tones staunch even if his skin was looking a little pasty. "You're sure they made it right?"

Snape shrugged, his robes fluttering. "As I believe I mentioned to you once, I haven't had a student die in class, yet."

"That's encouraging," muttered Ron as he took the vial Snape had ladled from Harry and Draco's cauldron. "Well . . . here goes nothing."

Harry had to give his friend credit for guts. Ron tipped the whole thing into his mouth and drank it straight down.

For a moment, nothing at all happened.

And then, in a puff of smoke, Ron shrank down to the size of a mouse.

"I think it worked," he said, his voice even higher and squeakier than before. And then, in tones of awe, "You lot are huge."

Harry bent down and scooped him off the floor before he was trod on, and settled him carefully down onto their work table.

"Fifty points to Slytherin," announced Snape, nodding at Draco. "And another fifty for you as well, Mr Potter." He lifted his chin to address the class as a whole. "Everyone else may submit a sample of your potion so I can mark you. Needless to say, there will be no other Outstandings awarded for this work session. For next time, please read chapter nineteen in your principal text and write twelve inches on the standard variants of shrinking potions. That will be all. Class dismissed."

He began to walk away, leaving a tiny, irate Ron jumping up and down on the work table. "What about me?"

Turning back so quickly his robes flared into a semicircle, Snape smoothly answered, "If you'd read your text you'd realise that it will wear off in five to ten hours. I'd estimate nine, given the quality of this particular batch of potion."

"Nine hours!" squeaked Ron. "We have Quidditch practice!"

"I can shrink your broom down," put in Draco, his eyes amused even if his tone was bored. "Though a Bludger would make quite a mess of you, in your . . . condition."

"Shut up, Mal . . . oh, just shut up."

"Oh, come on, Professor," said Harry. Most of the class was gone by then, so he figured it would be safe enough to presume a little. "I'm sure you have an antidote around."

"Oh, very well," sighed Snape, withdrawing a vial of orange fluid from his robes. He handed it to Harry. "One drop atop his head. And I'd strongly advise you place him on the floor again, first."

The minute Ron went back to normal, he shook himself all over like a dog trying to shed water. "Oh, ewwwww."

"Just be glad I didn't partner you," said Harry, laughing a little. "I might have let Sals out of my pocket in that case. Just imagine how big she'd have looked to you."

Ron made a face, but was in good enough spirits to counter, "Harry, if you'd have partnered me our potion wouldn't have been good enough to test like that."

"Yeah, but Draco's would have. And Severus . . . I mean, Professor Snape, he'd have made you drink it. And it would have worked."

"Well, it worked but it wasn't worth any seventy-five points to Slytherin," said Ron, glaring at Snape's retreating back. "That's just unfair."

"Oh, stop your whinging," said Draco as he waved his wand to clear away the work area he and Harry had used. "So he was a little generous to Slytherin. It's not like we can win the House Cup now, is it?"

The last time Harry had seen the house counters, Slytherin hadn't been significantly behind. "Huh?"

Draco hefted his school bag over his shoulder. "Oh, you didn't know? Severus took a thousand points from Slytherin."

Harry's eyes widened. From behind him, he heard Hermione gasp. Ron was simply speechless.

"Yeah, for Nott," added Draco.

Ron recovered first. "And you aren't mad about that . . . er, Draco?"

"I'm not thrilled," said Draco dryly. "But he had cause. Or did you think I'd believe points are more important than Harry? I don't know if anybody's mentioned this, but we are brothers."

"It's been mentioned!"

"You were right. He doesn't do subtle," Draco said to Harry. He turned to Ron and Hermione to add, "It's called sarcasm. For the vocabulary-deficient among us, that means--"

"Behave!" said Harry, laughing. "You'll have to excuse him," he said to his friends. "He's overcompensating because he's been alone too much lately."

"Let's just get to dinner," growled Ron.

"Ah yes, dinner with Slytherin House. What a lovely prospect," said Draco brightly, a smile plastered on his face.

Harry knew then what he had to do. "Yeah, I'll sit with you, I think."

The classroom was empty by then, except for their little group. "I don't need that, Harry," drawled Draco. "Slytherin may be a pit of snakes but--"

"But you fit in just fine?" supplied Ron.

"Ron and I will wait for you outside," said Hermione as she tugged on Ron's arm. Ron grumbled, but went without much of a fight.

"As I was saying," continued Draco in a condescending voice. "Slytherin may be a pit of snakes but at least it's my pit of snakes. I don't need you to sit with me."

"So I'll eat with Gryffindor?"

"Well, that's not to say I'm refusing your company," said Draco, backtracking. "And it's not lost on me that you're a Slytherin, too. I think you ought to do a lot more eating with Slytherin. Severus said you didn't do it very often, really. Oh, but he wasn't complaining, Harry. Just talking."

"So I'll eat with Slytherin tonight."

"Good, then that's settled." Draco lowered his voice. "And afterwards, if you wanted to come with me to the common room to help me . . . ah . . . arrange things in my dormitory, I wouldn't object to that either. After all, you are my brother."

Want me to sleep over, too? Harry almost joked, but he stopped himself in time. It meant a lot that Draco could admit to feeling vulnerable and needing support, even if he had to do it in such a roundabout way. "Who's going to walk me home when I need to get back to Gryffindor?"

"Oh, I'm sure Severus will be in and out a few times to check on the house. You know, he's a bit worried they'll . . . ah, do something to me. You can just ask him."

"All right," said Harry, chewing his lip. Severus wasn't the only one worried about the Slytherins doing something nasty to Draco.

 

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Harry expected dinner with the Slytherins to be horribly tense. He even half-expected a fight to break out. How likely was that, though, with Snape's eagle-eyes trained on the table as Harry and Draco approached it? The Slytherins knew well enough to behave while their fearsome Head of House was watching.

And anyway, there was something else important that Harry knew he needed to remember.

These students were Slytherins.

If they were angry, they were far, far more likely to hex Draco behind his back than challenge him to his face.

In fact, if they were itching to hex him, they might well be friendly to his face.

Just like Nott.

Yeah . . . the one and only Slytherin who had made a real effort to get on with Harry . . . and he'd turned out to be in league with Lucius.

So it really gave Harry the creeps when Blaise Zabini saw Draco coming and shifted over to make room for him.

It seemed, though that Zabini might have another motive in mind than betrayal. As Harry found a seat on the other side of the table, next to Goyle, the black boy leaned over toward Draco. "So, are you fully reinstated, Malfoy? No restrictions?"

"It's Snape," said Draco, though without much heat. "You know it's Snape, so don't be a git."

"Touchy, touchy," said Zabini, throwing his hands up in the air theatrically. "How are we supposed to remember your new name when you don't answer to it, eh? And anyway, Snape, you didn't answer my question."

"Yes, I'm fully reinstated." Draco served himself a healthy pile of mutton and vegetables, though he grimaced. Harry knew it wasn't his favourite.

"Have you thought about Quidditch, then?"

From several seats down, Millicent Bulstrode leaned forward to listen.

"Haven't given it a moment's thought," said Draco breezily. "Though it's not been lost on me how poorly Slytherin's faring this year. Right pathetic, it is. At least there's only one game left this year. The utter humiliation will be over soon--"

"We're going to win this last game," snarled Zabini. "All we need is a Seeker worth his salt."

"Oh, is that all you need?" Draco shrugged, evincing not the slightest interest in the position practically being dangled in front of him. Harry didn't have any doubt Draco was dying to play Quidditch again, so he figured his brother must think it best not to look too eager over the matter.

"Yeah, Snape. You know it is. So, how about it?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry. I must have missed the question."

Bulstrode had had enough. "Will you play ruddy Seeker?" she shouted from five seats away.

"Oh, you'd like me to play Seeker," drawled Draco. "Imagine that. Well, I haven't had much chance to practise of late. Perhaps you should ask my brother. My understanding is that his afternoons aren't booked, either."

"Brother?"

"You do all realise that Harry Potter's my brother," said Draco, looking around. "I'm sure you must. Severus did adopt us both, after all. And I know you're aware he's in Slytherin as well as Gryffindor. He could play for either team, as I reckon it."

A frown creased Zabini's forehead. "Well, we did ask him, yeah."

"You did." Draco glanced across the table at Harry. "You must have forgotten to mention. How remiss of you."

Harry shrugged. "I didn't think I could do the team justice. You know."

"Yes, we know." Zabini barked a short laugh. "You never know what to believe if it's in the Prophet, but is it true, Potter, that you had to have Weasley rescue you from Nott? Weasley?"

"Yeah, that's true." Harry ignored the stares that got him, and started eating his mutton.

"Just imagine how many points Slytherin would have lost if Weasley hadn't rescued him," said Draco, surprising Harry. "A thousand's bad enough."

Well, maybe that was Draco's way of reminding everybody that Severus would be out for blood if anybody actually managed to abduct his son. Either one of his sons.

"Yeah, Snape's got a nerve taking a thousand points off Slytherin!" erupted Bulstrode, pounding her meaty fist on the table.

"Yeah, Nott should have got a medal for trying to hand me over to be tortured and killed," said Harry sarcastically, glaring a bit at Bulstrode and then the rest of the nearby Slytherins. "Is that what you think? Is it? What did you expect Severus to do, overlook somebody attacking one of his own house?"

"Well, you're only sort of Slytherin, aren't you?" snarled Bulstrode.

"And what about Pansy Parkinson?" retorted Harry. He was sorry to bring her up in front of Draco, but this had to be said. "Nott, Torquay, and Greezer killed her! Was Snape supposed to just ignore that, too? I know you all resent him right now, and me and Draco too, probably, 'cause we don't worship that racist piece of shite the rest of you think is the best thing since sliced bread, but come on--"

"I think we're getting a little far from the topic of Seeker," interrupted Draco in a smooth voice. His glare at Harry, however, was anything but smooth. It was a blunt, shut up, you're out of your depth here, glare.

But Harry was on too much of roll to stop it just like that. "Severus might have taken a thousand points from each of Parkinson's killers," he went right on, his voice heated. "And the house would have deserved it!"

"Three thousand points from Slytherin!" shouted Crabbe, who up until then hadn't said a word.

Draco gave Harry one last dose of death-glare, then wiped his expression clean, nothing but polite surprise on his face as he turned to Crabbe. "I didn't know you could multiply."

"Can't. Added," said Crabbe around a half-roll he'd just bit off.

"Ah."

Everybody nearby laughed a little, except Goyle, who just shrugged.

Harry got the point. Draco knew best . . . at least when it came to managing Slytherins.

"If you think I can help the house recover some of the points recently lost, I'm more than willing to join the team," Draco then announced, his tone making it sound like he was granting a favour, but graciously. "When are practises?"

He listened as Zabini detailed the lengthy schedule, then nodded. "Fine, fine. Now, let's discuss strategy. Because the Snitch is only worth a hundred and fifty points, and with Slytherin over a thousand down, what we need is a way to make sure the game doesn't end too soon. Well, we need that and goals. Loads and loads of goals."

"You sure you want Potter there listening in on all our ideas?" asked Zabini.

"Why not?" Draco smiled, the expression a bit thin. "It's not as though we're playing against Gryffindor."

"Next year--"

"We'll let next year take care of itself."

Zabini looked disgruntled, but he nodded.

 

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There was a bit of a fracas after dinner. Harry told Ron and Hermione he was going to go see Draco's room in Slytherin. Ron took it pretty well, all things considered, but insisted that he and Hermione should walk Harry down to the dungeons.

Draco pushed off from the wall he'd been leaning on. "Are you planning to follow him into Slytherin and then right up into my room as well?"

"Like I want to see your nasty common room again!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Again? Do tell--"

Hermione interrupted. "Listen, you know perfectly well why we're supposed to go everywhere with Harry."

"Yes, I know," Draco drawled. "I might know more than you do. Severus specifically told me, earlier today, that Harry could visit me in Slytherin. I'm certain he didn't mean you lot had to come along. Therefore, I'm competent to keep our boy here safe, oh hero of Hogsmeade. And if I can keep him safe once we're in the dungeons with all the other snakes, I'm sure I can manage to not get him killed on the way there, as well. So, get lost." He made a shooing motion with his hand, just as Snape had that once.

From Draco it looked a lot ruder, though.

"He's right, you know," said Harry apologetically. "Thanks for the offer, but Draco can . . . er, look out for me now that he's back. I mean, sometimes."

"At least I won't go kissing anybody when I should be watching out for Harry," added Draco.

"Yeah, well you don't have anybody to kiss, do you now?" snarled back Ron.

"Ronald!" shouted Hermione, clearly appalled. Harry thought she must be remembering how Pansy had played Draco false. Definitely, now wasn't the time to mention his lack of girlfriend.

Ron had the grace to flush, as if realising that his mouth had been running ahead of his brain. "Sorry," he mumbled. "That was uncalled for. Especially considering . . ."

"Forget it," snapped Draco. "Come on, Harry. Let's go."

Ron and Hermione still looked uncertain. Harry thought they'd grown too used to being his constant bodyguards. "Go have some fun," he said, wondering if they'd end up kissing each other like they had in Hogsmeade. Something deep inside him remembered, then, how he'd felt about Cho. But the feeling seemed distant, and it came to Harry that he hadn't liked anybody since, not that way. Not even close. But . . . he didn't want to. He had enough to be going on with. "I'll be fine with Draco."

 

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As it turned out, dinner with the Slytherins had given Harry an exaggerated view of Draco's ability to finesse his house mates. Now that he'd agreed to be their Seeker, his brother had lost whatever advantage he first possessed.

Draco tripped three times on his way across the common room, once so badly that he nearly sprawled flat on his face. Worse than that, perhaps, was the way the other students just ignored him. Like he was made of air, literally. They ignored Harry, too, even though it must have been obvious Harry was trying to figure out where the tripping jinxes were coming from.

"Don't worry about it," said Draco once he was in his dormitory. Funny, Harry had always thought the Slytherins would have bigger rooms than the other houses. But they didn't. The room for the sixth-year boys was about the same as his own, only without windows since it was underground.

"Don't worry about it?" Harry shook his head as he sat down on the bed he guessed was Draco's since it had the fanciest covers.

"No, that's Greg's," said Draco, pointing. "Sit over there."

Harry wasted no time in moving to a bed covered in a simple dark green bedspread.

"So, I didn't have time to unpack before," said Draco, swishing his wand to and fro. His new trunk, which Severus had bought him, flew open, as did the doors of a nearby wardrobe. Folded clothes began drifting through the air and tried to hang themselves up, but they ended up practically strangling the hangers.

"You haven't really broken in your new wand?"

"I never did have that spell quite down," said Draco, shrugging. "Oh well. The elves'll put it right."

"It wouldn't hurt you to--"

"Yes, it would."

Deciding he had better things to talk about, Harry switched gears. "So, about the way somebody in Slytherin keeps tripping you . . . Um, I'm sure if you told Severus about that, he'd find a way to put an end to it."

"I need Zabini healthy enough to play Quidditch."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You know it's him?"

"Well, I don't know, but I know, Harry," drawled Draco, still flicking his wand to make his things go where he wanted. "There's no need for alarm. I have it under control. Zabini needs me healthy enough to play Quidditch too, you see. So he won't go too far."

"Until after the game."

"Weren't you paying attention to my strategy talk earlier? We're going to win this game by so many points that the house'll forget how much they hate me." Draco grinned, though the expression was somehow grim. "I'll be the hero for once, just as soon as I catch that Snitch."

Harry hated to be the bearer of bad tidings, but . . . "Uh . . . yeah, but what if you, you know . . . lose?"

Draco made a scoffing noise as he sat down next to Harry and swung his legs. "Oh, please. We're playing Hufflepuff."

"Hey, they have good players sometimes!"

"Not that I ever noticed."

Harry let it go. "What makes you think it's Zabini tripping you?"

"It's obvious, isn't it? Once I was out of the way, Nott more or less took over as a leader of the sixth-years. And then Nott gets himself thrown into Azkaban, and Zabini starts thinking that now the others will have to look to him, right? Except, straight away I come back. He's trying to make me look foolish and inept so I can't step back into my old role here." Draco shrugged. "Besides, Greg wouldn't do that to me, and Vincent isn't stealthy enough. Zabini is the only one left. Ha, I'm sure he'd have found a way to keep me off Quidditch if he could, but people would have questioned that." Draco's smile grew wide. "I'm just too good."

Harry smiled too, glad to see Draco a little bit happy about something. Though he did feel he had to point one thing out. "Maybe it's a girl tossing hexes your way."

"Maybe," Draco allowed, but he looked like he was just saying it to end the conversation.

He needn't have bothered. Almost as soon as he'd finished talking the door was slamming open and Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle all came in, talking loudly. They stopped when they saw Harry.

"You're still here?"

Draco rose to his feet. He didn't brandish his wand, but it was still in his hand from earlier. "He's going to be here as much as I please. Deal with it."

"Didn't know you had to hide behind a Gryffindor, Mal . . . shite, don't know what to call you." Zabini grinned then, the expression just plain mean. "On the other hand . . . Malshite actually works. Yeah, Malshite. Oh what, you don't like it? Are you going to run crying to Snape?"

Draco had looked angry at first, but by the time Zabini stopped speaking, his expression was under control. He looked mildly amused, in fact.

"Malshite's pretty accurate, actually. For Lucius, I mean."

Goyle laughed and came the rest of the way in, then settled onto his own bed, propping himself up on his pillows. When he kicked off his shoes, Harry struggled not to make a face. But the stench! It really ronked.

Crabbe was laughing too, but not as much as Goyle. Zabini glanced at them both crossly, as if this wasn't going the way he'd planned. His gaze caught on Draco's wardrobe, still open.

Sauntering forward, he ran his hand across the clothing hanging askew. When he turned around, his smile was simply malicious. No other word for it. "What happened to all your things, Malshite?"

"Snape."

Zabini wanted answers enough to play along, apparently. "Yeah, Snape. So where's all your stuff? You had loads more than this." He walked over to peer down into Draco's open trunk. "Looks like you're all settled in. What happened, your rich daddy took back all the things he'd ever bought you?"

Draco's silver eyes glinted, though his voice remained calm. "Something like that."

It was Goyle who spoke next, his own voice thrumming with concern instead of malice. "But what about your private vault, Draco? You can just buy a bunch more stuff to replace what your father took from you, can't you?"

"Professor Snape's my father," answered Draco.

Goyle blinked slowly. Three times in a row. After than he nodded. "Uh-huh. But what about your private vault?"

Draco's whole body relaxed, his grip on his wand actually becoming slack as he gave a careless shrug. Even his eyes stopped glittering. Harry thought it was one hell of a pose. Apparently his brother could lie when it suited him. He just wasn't so good at verbal lies.

"Ah. Well, I lost that too. Long story, Greg."

Zabini, it seemed, was just as dense as Goyle at times. Of course, he just couldn't believe his ears. "You're poor? You?"

Draco just stared at him, a pleasant smile on his face, one eyebrow raised as if to say that yes, poor was actually the opposite of rich.

Zabini exploded in laughter.

Crabbe glanced from Draco to Zabini, clearly deciding whose side to take. In the end he laughed a little, the sound of it uncomfortable. Goyle, on the other hand, shook his head.

"That's too bad, Draco."

Draco's smile became something a little more genuine. "Yeah, but even mountains of Galleons aren't worth all that much if you end up a slave to the Dark Lord. I'm better off now."

"Better off," gasped Zabini, holding his side now, he was laughing so much. "Oh, Merlin. If only Pansy could have seen you brought to this, she'd have got over her weird fixation--"

That was all it took for Draco's control to snap. In less than an instant, his wand was pointing at Zabini's throat. "Don't speak ill of the dead."

Harry jumped up, his mouth going dry. This was all they needed, Draco hexing somebody on his first day back . . .

"Touchy, touchy," sneered Zabini. "If you want to duel, Malshite, just name the time and place. But make it after the Quidditch match, not before."

"Yeah, Malshite," echoed Crabbe, who'd apparently chosen sides by then.

Goyle closed his eyes like he just wanted to go to sleep.

"Come on, Vince," said Zabini with one last, contemptuous glance at Draco's raised wand. "We have better things to do than hang around with the poor boy and his Gryffindor brother. I can't decide which would be worse. Being poor, or Gryffindor!"

Once the door slammed behind them, Goyle opened his eyes. "Gryffindor is worse."

The comment broke the tension. Draco lowered his wand as Harry laughed a little.

"I need help in Defence," Goyle went on. "Think you could, Draco?"

"Sure." Draco summoned his book and went over to sit at the end of Goyle's bed. "You want me to read you the chapter we're in, or start in on the next one?"

"One we're in."

Draco nodded like he'd been expecting that.

"And I need help with spells, too," added Goyle, sounding a little worried.

"I'll partner you tomorrow," promised Draco. "Thursday too."

That was when it hit Harry. Draco was going to be in Defence class with him. Draco was going to see Aran spewing all his rubbish about Parseltongue being too evil to be allowed in class . . .

I'd better warn him, Harry thought. Otherwise, with his impulse-control problems . . .

Yeah, the last thing they needed was Draco attacking a professor. He'd get expelled for good. After what Harry had just seen, he didn't have much reason to believe that Draco wouldn't pull his wand when he got angry.

Harry bit his lip. He didn't want to explain about Aran, because he knew full well what Draco was going to say about the matter. Tell Severus, Harry. On the other hand, though, Draco would probably understand why Harry didn't want to do that. The Slytherin boy wasn't going to bring his problems with fitting in to his father, after all. He'd looked contemptuous when Zabini had suggested he might. Draco was going to handle things himself.

So yeah, he'd probably would see why Harry needed to do the same. Well, hopefully . . .

Realising he was biting his lip, Harry cut it out. "Um, Draco? . . . We need to talk."

The End.
End Notes:
Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other

Chapter Eighty-Nine: What's Inside

Comments very welcome,

Aspen


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