"Seems like your brother's pretty popular these days," said Ron on Wednesday at breakfast as he shoved a muffin in his pocket for later. "How do you like that, him getting so much attention for the most boring Quidditch match Hogwarts ever saw?"

Harry glanced over toward the Slytherin table. Not every Slytherin had welcomed Draco back, of course, but enough had that he was really in his element again. Zabini still hated him, but with ten thousand lines to complete, he wasn't about to do anything to anger Snape yet further.

"At least the match gave me a chance to catch up on my reading," said Hermione, a little bit primly.

"You brought a book?"

"Tucked away in my pocket." Hermione lifted an eyebrow. "Ron warned me you'd said it would be a long match. And since I knew how many points Draco would want Slytherin to make up . . ." She shrugged. "It was pretty obvious which way the wind was going to blow."

"She read about history of magic," said Ron. "And I was so bored out of my skull that I read over her shoulder!"

"That's bored," said Harry, laughing. "So then, who's up for another fun-filled session of Double Defence? Personally, I can't wait." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"Harry," chided Hermione. "Enough is enough, all right? Speak in Parseltongue when you need to; that part I understand. But as for the rest? You don't have to be . . . well, a jerk for the sheer sake of it."

"Sure he does!" said Ron. "Um, I mean, Aran deserves it. He's been a jerk, hasn't he?"

"Two wrongs don't make a right, Ron."

"No, they make a left," said Harry, chortling.

"Actually, it takes three rights to make a left," Hermione stated, her head held high as she walked away from the table.

Hermione pursed her lips but didn't say anything further as they headed toward Defence. Draco didn't walk with them that time. More at ease with his own house, he hung back to talk to his friends in Slytherin.

Once in class, though, he stopped by Harry's table. "Today I really do have to work with Greg. He's getting a bit desperate."

"Sure," said Harry, shrugging.

Aran wasted no time getting class started once he came in from his office at the front. "Wands away. Since some students here can't follow instructions about acceptable forms of magic, we won't be doing any whole-class practicals. I'll call students up here for individual instruction. When I call your name, you can fetch your wand out and join me to practise conjuring caninae. In the meantime, everyone is to read chapter twenty-seven and outline it. Once you're done with that, prepare a test on the material. Begin."

A collective groan rose up from the students, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike. Only the Slytherins, however, added muttered commentary to the effect that this was all Potter's fault.

"Potter's a Slytherin," said Draco in a hard voice. "Remember Quidditch? Before the game? I thought we were going to stop turning on each other."

"Miss Bulstrode," Aran interrupted. Loudly. "Please bring your wand to the front."

Harry scowled as he got out parchment, quills, and his book. So that was Aran's new game. He'd keep Harry from speaking Parseltongue by never calling on him to do any practical work.

A little bird landed on his desk and unfolded itself, just one word written across it. Plans?

Harry huffed and started scrawling out an answer. Well, I suppose I could just shove my way up to the front and demand my turn! But the ugly arsehole won't cast against me, so what good is that?

He crumpled the note up to toss it over, but then he had a better idea. He might not know an actual avian charm, but he did know how to levitate things. Slipping his wand out of his pocket, Harry held it over the wadded note. Magic sure took a lot of coordination these days, he thought. He had to look at the right part of his glasses, which was still a little bit awkward, and make sure none of his power flowed through his wand.

"Take wing and fly!" he hissed, moving his fingers in a way that would direct the note to float over the top of students' heads until it was hovering over Draco's desk.

Draco grinned as he caught it.

"Potter!" said Aran loudly. "I said wands away!"

Harry met the teacher's angry gaze and gave a lazy grin. "Sorry," he said, liking the way he sounded completely insincere. "I had to tell Draco something. I won't use it again unless I need to pass another note."

"Detention!" snapped Aran, swinging his wand around. "You admit to passing notes, do you? Accio note!"

He was fast, but Draco was faster still. "Incendio!" he cried.

The note burst into flames when it was half-way to Aran.

The teacher glowered. "Detention for you as well, Mal-- Snape."

"Why do you even bother?" asked Harry, loudly. "You know perfectly well--or you would, if you had half a brain--that neither one of us is going to stay. And you know you're not going to do a damned thing about it!"

"Oh, you'll stay, Potter!" Aran glared at him, then turned the same expression on Draco. "You'll both stay."

"I guess he doesn't have half a brain, after all," said Draco. "Or perhaps the problem is . . ." He lifted a finger to make a twirling motion near his ear. Apparently the Muggle and Wizarding worlds shared the same symbol for, He's barmy as a bat.

The class had been more or less just staring up until then, but that made them break out into laughter.

Amazingly enough, Aran didn't look like he was going to explode. "Everyone will get back to work," he only said.

Harry exchanged a puzzled glance with Draco, who just shrugged.

Sighing, Harry flipped open his book to the right chapter. Draco did the same, he noticed, but instead of just reading, he quietly talked the chapter through with Goyle. Aran didn't say anything about it, but of course he'd already assigned detention. He was busy anyway now, coaching Parvati through the guard dog spell. After a while, Parvati managed a very creditable St. Bernard. It wasn't terribly ferocious, but it did bound over to Aran and try to knock him down.

Harry started reading, taking notes as he went. It wasn't quite as boring as Saturday's Quidditch match, but it ran a close second. He managed to keep to the assignment all the way through his outline, but when it came to writing his own test on the chapter, he started to get irritated. Was Aran so lazy he couldn't even write his own exams? It was unfair! And stupid!

"Mr Mal . . . Snape," called Aran. "Your turn."

Draco raised an eyebrow as though he hadn't been expecting to be called up. His caninae, after all, hardly needed work. Harry flinched just thinking about it. That huge dog had looked so very much like Padfoot . . .

His hand clenching on his quill, Harry tried to concentrate on his work and ignore whatever was happening up at the front of the class. That got a little difficult when Draco started yelling.

"Ow! Ow!"

Reaching under his robes and beneath his shirt, Draco fumbled to undo the clasp of the simple silver chain he was wearing around his neck. He pulled the amulet out, and gave Harry a bit of a glare.

Enough with the brotherly love, Harry could almost hear Draco saying, a sneer in his voice.

Harry shrugged to show he hadn't done anything. He hadn't even been paying attention. He'd been trying to work on his assignment!

"Accio pendant!" snapped Aran. He caught it by the chain and poked a finger at the turquoise. "Burned you, did it? Why are you wearing an amulet like this during Defence class? This sort of thing uses very simplistic magic. It can't tell if you're being hexed for real or as part of a practise duel! You ought to know these things, Mal-- Snape!"

Apparently Draco was taken aback enough to forget to be rude. "Sorry, sir. It never used to do that when Severus and I would . . . never mind. I think I'm sensitised to it, or something. I'll stash it in my pocket--"

Instead, Aran popped it into his. "You can have it back when your detention's been served," he said, a bit smarmily.

A dull flush came up under Draco's skin. He lifted his wand. "Accio amulet!"

"Oh, I've long since warded my person against students trying anything like that. The mood you're in, it's probably best if we forego the caninae, so you may return to your seat--"

"Give it here!" yelled Draco. Harry wasn't sure whether he was more angry to have had the amulet taken away, or because the whole class had just seen Aran best him, but his lack of impulse control was definitely at work. Otherwise, Harry didn't think Draco would have gone on, "It was a present from my brother!"

"Oh, him," said Aran, his lips twisted. "In that case you're lucky it's not Dark."

"Harry's not a Dark Wizard, you pompous, opinionated, fat, rat-faced prick!" And then, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Detention."

"And you'll serve it if you want your amulet back!" called Aran as Draco went to sit down.

The class was sort of abuzz after all that, but students got back to work as soon as Aran called up the next student.

Harry glowered down at his parchment, his fingers twitching, he was so angry. He wanted to lift them up and lash out at Aran with both hands, but there was no way Severus wouldn't hear about something like that. But still, roiling thoughts crowded his mind, tumbling over and over like a potion set to a furious boil.

Dark wizard, am I? Just because I can talk to Sals! Just because I gave my brother something to protect him. Ha!

Standing up and yelling, though, was just going to make him look like he had to refute it. Like he half-believed it, himself. But still, Harry couldn't bear to just go on writing out his stupid assignment, not after that. He had to do something.

All right, fine, he thought, dragging out a fresh sheet of parchment. Time to write the test Aran had demanded. Harry could think of some good questions to ask!

1. What makes you such a complete fucking moron? he scrawled, jabbing the point of his quill into the parchment so viciously that droplets of ink spattered.

2. And why do you hate Parseltongue so much? Did a snake attack you as a child? Too bad it didn't kill you.

3. I heard you weren't married. Is that because nobody can stand being around your fat arse for more than five minutes at a stretch?

4. In case you never realised, this class is called Defence. Have you ever thought about actually teaching that subject? Because you seem to think you were hired to run a study hall.

5. Oh, by the way, you're too stupid to notice this, but Zabini isn't doing the assignment. He's got his book open and he's hiding behind it, writing lines for Severus. Yeah, that's right. Some teachers can make their students do the punishments they've been assigned. Not you, though. You're completely incompetent.

5. You're also a right git, I hope you know. And furthermore--

"Pass in your papers," announced Aran.

Wow, time really had flown. Harry took great satisfaction in writing his name in large letters at the top of the page he'd been working on. Rolling it up, he stood up and threw it at Aran's desk, then plunked himself back down on his chair.

Aran walked up the aisle, his wand held in his hand. He seemed to be muttering something, and flicking his wand a bit. Barmy old bastard.

"Class dismissed," said Aran, then.

"About time," said Harry, loud enough to be heard. He started slamming books into his book bag, but when he tried to get up to leave, he found that his trousers were glued down tight to the chair. And not just his trousers, but his arse as well! "Hey!" he yelled. Glancing over, he saw that Draco was equally stuck.

"And in case you're thinking of trying an unsticking charm," said Aran, smirking, "the spell I used is obscure. You will be staying for your detention, make no mistake."

Some of the Slytherins laughed. The Gryffindors just looked like they thought Harry'd got a tough break. Except Hermione, who had that I-told-you-so look in her eyes.

Aran waited until the door clicked behind the last of the students leaving. "Now, get out quill and parchment and do those lines you refused to do last week!"

"No," said Harry and Draco, both at the same time.

"Yeah, maybe you can make us stay," Harry went on, "but you can't make us do anything."

As if to prove the point, he slouched down in his chair. Well, as much as the sticking charm would let him, anyway.

"And if we go hungry you know we'll tell on you to Severus," added Draco in a taunting voice. "I think I'll tell him about this sticking charm, anyway. It's practically assault, you know. You aren't really allowed to cast spells on students, are you, unless it's strictly needed for the curriculum?"

"I'm sure Professor Snape would be interested to know why I needed a sticking charm! And if you don't behave yourself, young man, you'll not be getting back the amulet your brother gave you!" Aran sneered the last.

Uh-oh. It was sort of like a standoff, now.

Aran picked up the assignments on his desk and began unrolling them. One by one he tossed them aside after only looking at the name. When he came to Harry's, though, he stopped to read it, his face getting redder each second.

"You sure are a slow reader," muttered Harry in a low voice. Not low enough, though.

"And you're a sight more dim-witted than I'd expected," barked Aran back. "I hadn't gone to the headmaster before this because frankly, he makes it pretty clear you're his golden-boy who can do no wrong! But he won't be able to ignore incontrovertible evidence, written in your own hand, of just how nasty you've turned, will he now?"

"Incendio!" yelled Harry and Draco, both at once.

Aran just shook his head. "I'm holding it. Didn't I just mention the warding?" He kept it the scroll in hand as he flicked his wand and sent a silver message spinning from it. Ha, his Patronus form looked a lot like a snake to Harry. Wasn't that ironic?

"Do something!" Draco whispered to Harry.

"I suggest you do something," said Aran in a cold tone. "Your lines, for example, while we wait for the headmaster. Let's start with five hundred repetitions of I will be polite to my professors and do as they say. Yes, that'll do."

"Oh, fuck you," snarled Harry.

"Do something a little more helpful than that, Harry!"

"I don't think you're likely to tell your father about this, either, Potter," snarled Aran. "Considering what makes it necessary! Bocalavare!"

Harry abruptly found himself with a mouth full of soap suds.

"Blech!" He tried to spit them out, but they kept foaming up, oozing all over the place. Some of them slipped down his throat. Ouch, that stung. And they tasted awful.

Harry grabbed the bottom hem of his cloak and sort of stuffed it in his mouth, trying to wipe the suds out of it.

It didn't help his mood that Draco was holding back laughter.

"Will you watch your language?" asked Aran.

Harry resentfully nodded, but that didn't seem to be enough. The suds kept bubbling up to fill his mouth with foam. "Yes, sir," he managed to say through the lather.

"See that you do. Finite Incantatem."

Harry swabbed out his mouth again and turned a glare on his brother. "You might have done that, you know. Helped me out. You think?"

"It was funny!"

"Oh, thanks a lot!"

Draco pointed. "You've still got a bit of soap there. And there."

"Shut up!"

"Ehem." A new voice kept Harry from saying more. Turning--well, as much as he could while he was stuck down--Harry saw the headmaster, dressed in garish pink and purple robes, quietly closing the door behind him. Dumbledore's voice, when he spoke, was very mild. "Problem, Professor Aran?"

"I should say so. Potter here's been influencing Draco Malfoy for the worse--"

"Draco Snape," corrected Dumbledore in a soft voice. "He has changed his name, as I believe you were informed? When he was adopted?"

"Yes, well, perhaps that's part of the problem. When I had him in classes back in September he was a perfectly polite, personable young man--"

Harry almost choked, hearing that. Was Aran's memory as bad as his teaching? Draco had been his usual bratty self back at the start of term!

"And now he's practically a hellion! And it's that one's fault!" Aran pointed his wand at Harry.

By that time Dumbledore was right alongside the other teacher. The headmaster put a hand on Aran's arm and gave it a gentle push down. "Manners, Professor," he said in a low voice. "I think it's a bit much to attribute Mr Snape's behaviour to another student," he added as he peered critically at Harry. "My boy, are you quite all right?"

Harry used his sleeve to wipe again at his mouth and face. "Yeah, fine."

"What you see are the remnants of sudsing spell made necessary by that boy's absolute urinal of a mouth!"

Dumbledore raised both his eyebrows. "Really. I've seen Harry in quite a lather, if you'll pardon the pun, and he still managed to restrain himself from any truly untoward behaviour."

Harry thought that a pretty big exaggeration considering he'd wrecked half the man's office, but he appreciated the support, he really did.

"Perhaps you should have a look at his day's work," said Aran, looking triumphant. He thrust the parchment in his hand toward Dumbledore.

The headmaster's eyes wrinkled as he began to look it over. "Oh, Harry."

"I was angry," Harry muttered, struggling to remember just what he'd written. When his exact words came back to him, he wanted to crawl into a hole. Instead of doing that, he raised his voice. "I had good reason to be angry! He calls me a Dark Wizard! In class! In front of everyone!"

Dumbledore looked about to say one thing, but then appeared to change his mind. "Professor, since you've summoned me, I can only imagine you would like me to take charge of the matter? Come Harry, come Draco. We'll deal with this in my office."

Harry tried to get up, but he couldn't.

The headmaster cleared his throat and spoke a little more forcefully. "A word, Harry, if you please."

"I can't get up, sir!"

"Ah." Dumbledore turned a critical gaze on Aran. "Was that truly necessary?"

"They refused to stay for my detentions!"

The headmaster's gaze, disappointed now, swung back to Harry and Draco. "I must say, that was very childish of you, my boys." He waved his wand, his lips moving slightly as he made short work of the sticking charm. "Now we'll all go to my office and you'll serve your detention with me." He nodded towards Aran, the bright pink wizard's hood on his head flopping a bit. "Good day, Professor."

Feeling like that was a bit of a hint, Harry echoed, "Yeah, good day."

Aran just harrumphed.

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

A fire was blazing in Dumbledore's grate, the cheery dancing flames in direct contrast to Harry's glum mood.

The headmaster laid Harry's assignment on his large desk, but didn't take his usual seat. Instead, he summoned three chairs into a circle and conjured a little table to sit in the centre. Gesturing, he merely asked, "Shall we?"

More than a little nervous, Harry took a seat. Draco did likewise, though he didn't look nervous in the least. But then again, Harry could tell it was a pose.

"Am I correct in thinking the two of you haven't been to lunch yet?"

"Yeah, and Severus'll be wondering where we've got to," Harry said, the words tumbling over one another. "So we really should dash down to the Great Hall--"

Dumbledore smiled. "Oh, he has a lunch meeting in his office. With a seventh-year interested in an apprenticeship. Your father mentioned it during yesterday's staff meeting."

A dark thought crossed Harry's mind. So that was why Aran had suddenly developed some guts. The Defence teacher had known that Snape wouldn't notice Harry and Draco's absence from the Great Hall!

Clapping his hands together, Dumbledore summoned a meal to the small table, complete with plates and cutlery, and even a glass of orange juice for Harry. Draco got chocolate milk, which Harry thought was a veiled reference to the Quidditch match. "There, that looks like a lovely luncheon. Let's all relax and eat, shall we? We can deal with other matters, afterwards."

Harry ate, but it would be a stretch of the imagination to say that he relaxed. His stomach felt twisted into a knot. Besides, every bite tasted like it was coated with soap. It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed a meal less.

Draco, in contrast, was making polite chit-chat just as though they were at a Ministry dinner and the headmaster was someone he wanted to impress. Dumbledore took it all in stride, nodding and smiling where appropriate, but his wizened old eyes said he wasn't being lulled by Draco's charming manners.

From time to time Draco tried to draw Harry into the conversation, but Harry wasn't having it. He mumbled a few syllables here and there, just wanting this to be over.

"Tea?" asked the headmaster at length. "A sweet, perhaps? Cake? Marzipan? Coco-Rocos?"

"Biscotti," said Draco. "And a spot of Oolong, if it's available?"

"Oh, certainly." An elf appeared with a steaming cup of tea and the biscotti, just a moment later.

Harry had no appetite for tea or dessert. "I'm pretty sure we're up here for more than a meal," he said, sighing as he shoved away his half-finished plate.

Dumbledore waved his wand over the table to banish all the food except Draco's request, and sat back in his chair. "Yes, indeed. I'd like you to read what you wrote on your assignment, Harry, paying particular attention to number three."

"Out loud?"

"No, to yourself will do admirably well."

Harry didn't much feel like doing any magic, so he got up to fetch the parchment. Looking it over as he'd been told, he almost groaned when he saw what he'd written for his third "test question."

I heard you weren't married. Is that because nobody can stand being around your fat arse for more than five minutes at a stretch?

"You do realise whom else that statement could apply to," gently prompted Dumbledore.

"Severus isn't fat," Harry muttered. "But . . . yeah."

"How do you think your father would feel were I to show him this?"

Harry winced, but rallied quickly enough. "What about what drove me to it, eh? Aran, complaining constantly about how evil Parseltongue is and how I must be evil just because I know it!"

"The issue here isn't Aran."

"Yeah, it is!"

"No, it is not." Dumbledore didn't raise his voice, though it somehow got a whole lot more commanding, all the same. He gentled it, though, to ask his next question. "Harry my boy, the year the Chamber was opened, nearly everyone in the school was saying the same things about you. Dark wizard, all that. And you bore it with grace and fortitude. And then later, when your character was smeared yet again, this time in newspapers circulating all 'round Wizarding Britain, you weathered that equally well. So why does the opinion of one narrow-minded teacher now cause such an uproar?"

Harry slouched down in his chair. "I don't know."

Dumbledore peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "Really, Harry, I thought you more mature than this. In point of fact, you've repeatedly been far more mature than this when it came to dealing with difficult professors."

"Well, maybe it's his time to vent," said Draco, crossing his ankles in the same way Severus sometimes did. "It's probably healthy. You know, all those years repressing rage can't have been good for him--"

"Thank you, Draco," said the headmaster with a smile. "I happen to believe there's a bit more than that going on. Well, Harry? Why does what Professor Aran says disturb you so much?"

"It doesn't!" exclaimed Harry. "I mean, until recently I was just ignoring all his insults."

"And what changed that?"

Draco, Harry thought, but he didn't say so.

"Let's examine the matter from another angle, Harry," continued the headmaster. "Even when you were ignoring him, he still made you angry, I think?"

"Not just because of what he would say, though," said Harry, sitting up more. "Aran's been--"

"Professor Aran, Harry."

"Fine. Professor Aran's been completely unreasonable. He can think what he likes of Parseltongue, but you know that's the only way I can do magic, and he won't let me speak Parseltongue in class! How fair is that?"

"Oh, it's thoroughly unfair," said Dumbledore, popping a lemon sherbet into his mouth. He extended a little dish of them. "Hmm?"

Harry sighed. "This is the part where you tell me that life isn't fair, I guess."

"I wasn't going to say anything of the sort. You of all people would already know that life isn't fair, Harry. Let me understand the situation, then. Professor Aran has refused to let you learn properly. At first you acquiesced to his restrictions, but of late you've been defying them, instead. Not to mention, expressing your displeasure in quite a spectacular fashion."

Harry sat up a little bit straighter. "Yeah, that's about right."

"Because Defence, especially for you, is in no way an optional course of study."

"Exactly!"

"Your life could well be in jeopardy if you don't learn it properly."

Harry nodded emphatically.

Dumbledore popped another sweet into his mouth. "I'm a bit surprised Severus would have allowed this to go on. You did inform him at once, I trust?"

Harry scowled then, seeing too late that he'd been led into a trap. Though in all fairness, it was most likely a trap he couldn't have avoided. His fate had probably been sealed as soon as Aran called Dumbledore. Or really, as soon as his brother had convinced him to stand up to Aran. That was really what had set this whole thing in motion.

When Harry turned his glare on Draco, the other boy gave a little shrug. Like he'd known it would come to this. Like he'd seen it coming, even if he hadn't planned it.

"No," said Harry shortly, finally answering the headmaster's question.

"You didn't tell you father at once?"

It was all going to come out now, so Harry decided to get it over with. "I didn't tell him at all."

"Oh, my dear boy," crooned the headmaster, folding his hands across his lap. "I am so very sorry. You and Severus aren't getting on, then?"

"No, we get on great--"

"But you don't feel you can trust him with this."

"Of course I can--"

Draco's cup and saucer clattered as he set them down. "Can you stop leading him around by the nose and just say what you want to say, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore glanced at Draco, his old eyes a little bit bemused. When he turned back to Harry, though, his expression was perfectly serious. "I'm sure you can tell me any number of reasons why you didn't take this to your father, Harry. You're sixteen, which is old enough, surely, to handle the matter on your own. Though I will say you haven't acted your age, today. And you don't care for special treatment, not even on account of having a father on staff. And so on and so forth."

"Oh great, I have to ratchet up my Occlumency again!"

"No, no, certainly not with me, my boy. I haven't pried into your thoughts. I merely flatter myself that I know you, in some small measure at least. As I should hope I would, after all these years." Dumbledore smiled, looking every bit like a loving grandfather. His eyes weren't twinkling, though. They were still profoundly sad. "And because I know you, Harry, I know you had another reason for neglecting to mention your problems in Defence to Severus."

"No, I didn't."

"To Professor Snape, I should perhaps say?"

Harry stiffened. "I don't think of him that way anymore."

The headmaster's voice softened still further, his tone gentleness itself. "Do you not?"

"No!"

Dumbledore slowly shook his head. "Oh, Harry. If you were being unfairly treated in a class of little importance to your future, your justifications might be believable. But not when it comes to Defence against the Dark Arts. Of all your courses, that is the one most key to your very survival. And you expect me to accept that you let petty concerns about seeming childish or privileged keep you from asking your father for help?" Pausing, Dumbledore drew in a breath. "Harry, you are simply not that silly."

Shifting in his chair, not liking this conversation at all, Harry raised defiant eyes. "I told McG-- I mean, Professor McGonagall."

"Yes, when you needed someone to mark your practical. Don't you suppose that your father would have been the more qualified choice? And yet you didn't go to him."

Harry flinched slightly. "You knew how Aran was treating me, then! You knew I needed help, and you didn't offer any!"

Dumbledore smiled. "I knew that you had a father more than willing to help you through any difficulty. And Harry, you are the one who made it clear to me, earlier this year, that you preferred his counsel to mine. So why did you never once seek it? Hmmm?"

"I go to him about plenty of other stuff!"

"But not this." Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, do try to be honest with yourself. Why would you be so very reluctant to bring this particular problem to Professor Snape?"

Again with the man's school title. Harry couldn't help but feel he was being given a large hint, there. It wasn't one he could exactly miss, either, considering the way the headmaster had stressed the word particular. "I . . . uh, well . . . look, I wasn't thinking about it that way at the time, honest."

"I'm sure you weren't," agreed Dumbledore, nodding amiably. "At least, not that you were aware of."

"Subconscious motivations, that's what Marsha calls them," said Draco, his silver eyes searching Harry's expression. "But I don't follow. What were yours?"

The knot in his stomach suddenly grew a lot worse, so much so that Harry began wishing he hadn't eaten anything at all. Strange how he hadn't realised earlier just why he didn't want to bring his problem with another teacher to Snape.

Turning to Draco, he tried to explain, but the words got stuck in his throat. Dumbledore conjured him a cup of tea and pushed it over. Harry sipped at it for a moment, then tried again.

"I guess I didn't want to bring Aran up to Snape because . . . um, you know. Apart from Umbridge, Snape is the teacher I would have been complaining about every other year here! I mean, if I'd had a family to complain to."

"So?"

Harry sighed. "So, when he adopted me we sort of agreed that it was all over, but we never really talked very much about how he used to treat me. And I didn't want to talk about it. It's better just to push it behind and move on."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Oh, please. You can't compare Severus to Aran!"

"Can't I?" Harry's lips twisted. "At least Aran has a semi-coherent reason to resent me. He's afraid of Parselmouths. Stupid as that is, it's something, at least. What reason did Snape have to single me out that first day of class and humiliate me, and keep it up for five straight years? He knew I was Muggle-raised and wouldn't have the first idea about monkshood and Wolfsbane or whatever! And everybody expected me just to deal with that all on my own, so why would I go to Snape with this? For him to go to Aran complaining about somebody mistreating me . . . ha, talk about the pot calling the kettle black--"

"All right, all right!" interrupted Draco, holding up his hands. His silver eyes looked a little bit panicked. "I understand! There's obviously still some . . . er, resentment there."

"I don't want there to be," sighed Harry. "So, I try not to think about it . . . ever. I guess maybe that's why I thought I'd just handle Aran myself."

Draco grabbed a sweet from the dish still on the table. "Marsha calls that avoidance."

"Yeah, well it was working out fine until you decided I ought to--" Harry abruptly stopped talking. "Never mind."

"So Professor Aran is mistaken about who was influencing whom. Well, no matter. Harry, what do you intend to do now?"

Harry blinked. "What, you mean I get a choice? I pretty much figured you were going to show that," he pointed at the assignment he'd dropped on the small table, "to Snape and let him decide how to punish me."

"Oh, no. No indeed." Dumbledore whispered a spell and the parchment dissolved into ash. "I don't think we need to go to quite those lengths, not now you've realised about your . . . what was that clever word? Ah yes, avoidance."

"Last time, when I was having seer dreams, you blackmailed me into talking to him."

"Yes, but I don't think that will be necessary this time. Now that you've thought it through, I think you know what you need to do, Harry."

Harry hung his head in his hands and spoke through his fingers. "Yeah, yeah. Talk to Snape. Ugh."

"Will you stop calling him Snape?" asked Draco. "You said you didn't think of him like that any longer!"

"Yeah, well I can't help it now, can I? This is why I didn't want to talk to him about any of this!"

"Harry." Dumbledore waited until the boy had raised his head and looked at him. "You love Severus. That was made very clear to me earlier this year. I'm certain you don't want the past to interfere with your relationship as it stands now. But don't you see? By denying him the chance to act as your father in this matter, you are letting the past influence the present."

"Yeah, I get it," said Harry, grumbling. "I'll talk to him, fine. I just . . . well, how am I supposed to bring it up now? He's not going to be so pleased that I didn't come to him sooner."

"Today's Wednesday," said Draco, a remark which seemed a little out of place until the boy went on. "How about this? We'll go down later to have dinner at home, right? Severus'll like that. And while we're there, you er . . . break the news. If you don't mind me being there, I mean. But see, this way, if things don't go well, I'll say that you should come along to Marsha's and you and Severus can have my therapy session."

Harry frowned. "I don't want to take you away from your therapist."

"It's one session! And uh . . . no offence, but not telling Severus all about Aran was actually pretty mental of you. You probably need the therapy more than I do."

"Prat."

"Basket case."

"Seeker who lets the Snitch snooze--"

"Boys," interrupted Dumbledore. "I think that's a fine solution as long as Harry is amenable to it." Drawing his wand, he cast a quick Tempus. "Hmm. We seem to have talked quite a bit longer than I had in mind. Your after-lunch classes are shortly to draw to a close. We don't want you missing the one following as well, so off you go."

"That's it?" asked Harry.

"Yes, my boy, that's it. I have every confidence that you'll do the right thing as soon as an opportunity presents itself."

As soon as. That was a pretty blunt hint. "Tonight, then," said Harry, sighing. "Might as well. It's actually a good idea, Draco."

The Slytherin boy raised his chin a notch. "Do I ever have any that aren't?"

Harry thought of the fairy cakes . . . among other things. "Yes, actually."

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

"So where are you headed?" asked Draco as they rode the stairs down from Dumbledore's office. "I have Charms next."

"Transfiguration."

Draco nodded. "I don't suppose you'd come with me back to Aran's for a second? That stupid git still has my amulet."

Harry didn't exactly want to see the Defence teacher again, but he did want to make sure Draco got his property back. "All right. He can't claim you haven't served your detention yet, anyway."

"Some detention. Lunch and a chat?"

"I'd rather have scrubbed cauldrons," grumbled Harry.

"Severus can arrange that, I'm sure, if you'd like me to tell him about your urinal of a mouth--"

"Ha, very funny."

"Just make sure you come down for dinner," said Draco, serious once again. "Have Ron and Hermione walk you down to Severus' classroom right after your last class so we can waylay him before he leaves for the Great Hall. All right? I'll meet you there."

"Yeah, all right."

"If you chicken out and skive off it'll just be harder--"

"Yeah, all right," Harry repeated.

By then they were almost to the open door of Aran's classroom. Nobody was in sight. "He must have a free period," said Draco, shrugging. "Accio amulet!"

Nothing happened.

"Worth a try . . ."

"Probably still has it in his pocket," said Harry. "You'll have to actually ask him. Sorry."

"Time to put my perfect manners on display, then." Draco beamed a completely fake smile all around, just like he was accepting an award for Seeker of the Year.

"A little less perfect."

"I can't be that," said Draco, grinning. His smile faded just a bit in the instant before he turned to step inside the Defence classroom, but his voice was still smoothly polite as he called out toward the office at the front, "Professor Aran? Might I have a moment of your time?"

For a moment, his request was greeted only by silence.

But then, the heavy door to the classroom swung shut. Right in Harry's face.

Harry was startled, but not too alarmed at first. Aran probably just wanted to talk to Draco alone. And while technically Harry wasn't supposed to be out in the hallways by himself, he didn't think it was much of a problem, really. Ever since the Quidditch match, most of the Slytherins tolerated him pretty well. Besides, classes wouldn't even be out for another ten minutes or so. Draco would be back by then.

Still, though, maybe it wasn't the best idea to flout his father's rules today of all days. All he needed was for Snape--Severus, he reminded himself--to come strolling by and see him out here unprotected.

Yeah, best to go in, Harry thought.

Except, when he pushed on the door, it seemed stuck fast to the jamb. Oh, no! Was Aran angry enough to try something truly nasty? It wasn't like he had to worry about losing his job. After the things McGonagall had said, he had to know he was soon to be sacked, anyway.

Worried, Harry pressed his ear to the wooden door and strained to make out what Aran or Draco might be saying.

That was when he heard a voice he'd hoped never, ever to hear again.

Lucius Malfoy, his words sort of oozing, they were so smooth.

But wait -- Lucius Malfoy couldn't be wandering around Hogwarts! The castle was warded so he had to be escorted at all times. Dumbledore had said so. So maybe this was Remus?

Of course, Harry didn't have any idea why Remus would need to speak to Aaron Aran, and do it while pretending to be a school governor, but then again, he didn't have any idea why the real Lucius Malfoy would be saying the kinds of things Harry could make out through the closed door.

Lucius hated Draco.

Didn't he?

"Draco. What an unexpected delight." A slight chuckle. "You're looking well. More so than the last time I saw you, at any rate. And you're back in classes again. You must be enjoying that."

Yeah, that just had to be Remus, thought Harry. The first words out of Lucius' mouth would be Crucio, not these casual remarks that smacked of . . . well, caring.

"Father," the boy said, his voice just loud enough for Harry to hear it. Harry tensed. He knew Draco pretty well these days, and that strained tone said loud and clear that his brother was scared to death and trying not to let it show. "What . . . I-- I didn't expect to see you here."

"I didn't expect to be summoned, Draco. But your instructor, it seems, has some complaints about your conduct." Harry heard footsteps coming closer, along with what sounded like a person actually bumping against the door.

And then, Draco's voice, pitched higher than usual. "My . . . my next class'll be starting. Ch . . . Charms. I'd better get there--"

"Accio wand," said Lucius, very calmly. "You'll stay and listen to me, Draco. After all, it wouldn't do to arrive at Charms without so much as a wand, would it?"

In the meantime, Lucius had continued speaking to Draco. "Now, now, don't look so alarmed. I wish nothing more than a few words with you."

Harry's mind was racing. What should he do? Taking care of Lucius--for good--using dark powers would only advertise those very powers to Aran, as well as to the students who would be streaming into the hallway soon. And they couldn't all be Obliviated. The side of Light would lose the advantage of surprise if Harry acted rashly.

Besides, Severus wouldn't want Harry dealing with this all on his own. He'd want Harry to get help. But how? He couldn't leave while Draco was in there with Lucius!

But surely Lucius wouldn't do anything to Draco with Aran standing right there, not if he was putting on this fatherly pretence!

"Y- y- you've no right to speak with me," Draco was saying by then, his voice gaining confidence with every word. "I'm not your son any longer! And why's that? You wanted to kill me! You wanted to torture me--"

"Oh, Draco," said Lucius in a tone halfway between outrage and empathy. "How can you say such things? But of course I know the answer to that perfectly well. I know whom you've been listening to all through this year. They've turned you against your own father, your very own flesh and blood. For shame."

"That Parselmouth's to blame," spat Aran. "You were right, Mr Malfoy. I've seen it myself. Draco was a fine student before. But after spending months below stairs surrounded by Dark Wizards--"

"They aren't Dark Wizards!" yelled Draco. "He is! Are you so stupid that you can't see that?"

Lucius chuckled. "Now, now, Draco, you simply must be more respectful. Professor Aran, I do apologise. Draco always did have a lamentable tendency to be less than polite to his Defence instructors."

Harry started. That was certainly something Remus would say. Maybe it wasn't Lucius in there, after all.

"That may be, but being around a Parselmouth so much has taken a toll," announced Aran. "Draco's come back to my class as rude and arrogant a student as ever I met, except one. Even wore a protective charm to my class, as if Potter's got him convinced that I'd try to hurt him!"

"My son needs a few lessons in proper deportment," said Lucius, sounding like he was tapping his cane against the floor. "And he'll get them, make no mistake."

Hearing that, Harry could only imagine how vulnerable Draco must be feeling. Without so much as a wand! His uneasiness returned. Why would Remus have taken Draco's wand like that? Remus didn't enjoy terrifying people!

Draco clearly was terrified, too. So much so that he chose that moment to cut and run. Harry heard the doorknob being jiggled frantically, heard someone shoving and pounding on the door, but the sticking charm held tight.

Lucius would know a good sticking charm, Harry thought with horror. That was where Draco had learned his from.

Harry's blood ran cold, because in that instant he knew the truth. There was no way that was Remus inside that room.

"Let me out!" Draco was panting, the words sounding completely unhinged.

Horrified, Harry did what he should have done thirty seconds earlier. Whipping out his wand, he hissed in Parseltongue, "I confidently expect a saviour!" while thinking fixedly of his father standing in his classroom, peering into cauldrons.

His Patronus form, a ghostly stag, leapt forth from his fingers--not his wand--and galloped down the empty corridor, heading towards the dungeons.

"You are my son," Harry heard Lucius quietly saying, his voice also against the door now. Harry shivered. He couldn't leave Draco, so he stood there, stock still, staring at the planks of wood separating him from the man who'd sat atop him and taken such delight in stabbing his eyes to shreds. "I've seen the official record of your adoption, Draco. I know what you did. Exactly what you did. And I must say, it was a half-measure, at best."

"I . . . that was . . ." Draco's voice sounded strangled. "I couldn't give it up."

"Oh, of course you couldn't, my Dragon." Lucius' voice was so loving! Or rather, Harry thought it must sound that way to someone like Aran. To Harry it was the stuff of nightmares. To Draco too, he knew. "This year has been . . . difficult, but the breach between us isn't irreparable. You're still a Malfoy. Aren't you, now?"

Harry knew what Draco was going to say . . . but Draco didn't say it.

Instead, his answer made Harry's heart drop.

In a low, low, voice, Draco said, "Yes, Father."

No! Harry wanted to cry out. Don't let him frighten you into saying that, Draco! Stand up for yourself the way you told me to! Severus will be here soon!

But Draco, of course, would think he was being Slytherin to play along, Harry knew. He just hoped Draco realised what a dangerous game that was. But who better than Draco to know that? He'd grown up watching Lucius manipulate people.

"Yes, I knew you were still a Malfoy," oozed Lucius. "And I thought you would want this back, in that case."

Silence. And then Draco's voice again, this time surprised. "You'd give me back my wand?"

"Oh, yes. But I have enjoyed holding it for you, Draco, until we could talk. This wand is protected by quite a lovely lineage spell. Your own work, I think?"

Draco didn't answer, but Harry thought he must have nodded.

"Advanced magic, very worthy of a Malfoy. Severus likely didn't approve?"

"No, he didn't." Draco cleared his throat, the sound so loud that it made Harry jump back a little. "Father, would you let me go now? My next class starts in scarce five minutes."

"You'll need your wand," said Lucius. "Here, Draco. Take it."

For a moment, Harry heard nothing but the pounding of his own heart. And then . . .

"I need the other one."

"You may have it as well," said Lucius, his voice rich with promise. "But first, take this and tell me you don't miss it, Draco. This is the one you've used since you were a child. This is the one that sings with your magic--"

No, Draco! thought Harry. Those instincts that Snape had praised were screaming inside him. He just knew there was something wrong with that wand. And Draco was going to take it, he knew that too. Even though the wand was now useless to him, since the lineage potion meant it could only be used by wizards named Malfoy, Draco would still want it.

After all, he hadn't ever wanted to give it up.

There wasn't time to worry about what Severus was going to say about Harry's saving-people thing. There wasn't time for anything except an Alohomora. A wanded one, so he could be sure it overcame whatever sticking charm was holding the door closed.

"Get out of my way!" Harry hissed at the door.

And it did, flying open on its hinges so violently that it the wood cracked when it collided with the stone wall that stopped its swing.

And then Harry was looking straight at Draco, who had his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

The other boy's mouth dropped open in horror. "Get away!" he screamed, just before he yanked his hands out and reached for the wand Lucius was offering.

The minute he touched it, an awful sound filled the whole room. Whooshing, sucking . . . the noise of a young man being borne away against his will.

The noise of a Portkey.

"No!" screamed Harry, stumbling forward, his hands out as though to grab hold of Draco. It was too late, though. Draco was gone, and Harry was left staring into the cold, grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

"Well, well, would you look at that. The Parselmouth himself."

Fear washed over Harry, his eyes stinging with the memory of what this man had done to him. Behind all that, though, another sensation was building inside him.

His hands began to burn, his bones blazing hot with anger, the pain of it spilling out into his flesh. He was still holding his wand, but he didn't need it, not for this. This was raw energy, and he would hurl it straight from his soul.

Lucius must have sensed that something was wrong. That this Harry, perhaps, wasn't the helpless boy he'd tortured all those months ago. "Crucio!" he yelled, and Harry saw the spell sizzling towards him.

His anger lashed out to meet it. No words, just pure power, launching itself like a caninae at the source of Malfoy's spell. The Cruciatus vanished like so much mist under the force of Harry's magic, but Harry's powers kept streaming out, gold and burgundy lightning bolts that lit the whole room up.

Lucius made an awful noise as the silver snake handle of his wand abruptly melted and the wand itself began to smoke.

"Why, you--!"

Malfoy didn't say anything else, though. He couldn't. Harry's rage had reached a new peak by then, and the energy pouring from his hands was surrounding Lucius and making him twist and writhe. And scream. His wand, a charred useless stick, had long since clattered to the floor.

Harry started hearing his father's voice inside his head. Words about revenge and retribution and how Harry mustn't become like Voldemort, filled only with hate and anger and a desire to hurt.

Harry couldn't listen to it, though. He hurt, all the way through. And the only way to stop it was to destroy Lucius Malfoy.

"Petrificus totalus!" he suddenly heard from beside him. Aran's voice. He'd forgotten about Aran.

Harry tried to yank himself out of the way, but the energy pouring from his hands had a force all its own, a force that held him in place, like a great magnet against which he couldn't hope to move.

He felt the Petrificus hit, felt his whole body snap stiff and begin to fall backwards.

Smashing against the stone floor was like shattering into a thousand pieces without actually breaking at all, and as he hit, a new sort of anger took hold of his mind. Stupid, stupid Aran! He'd just seen Lucius abduct a student! He'd seen Lucius try to cast an Unforgivable at Harry! And still, he'd taken Lucius' side in the duel.

Because he hated Parselmouths.

Harry wanted to sick up right on him.

Then he wanted to sick up for other reasons. He was dragged inside, Lucius practically growling the spell.

The door clanged shut behind him.

He could see above himself and hear; he just couldn't react. Unless he could break the hex, the way he had before. He'd had Sals then to help him focus his powers. No Sals with him today, but he had his glasses.

Thank God for the headmaster, Harry thought. If he'd gone with a tattoo, he wouldn't be able to lift it before his eyes. But his glasses were still right there.

Harry concentrated on the snake image in the corner of his eye. Stared at it, harder than ever before, and thought about how much he needed to break free. Draco was in danger, and he loved Draco . . . Concentrate, he told himself. Concentrate on breaking out so you can help Draco. It had worked before, to break the hex.

It had to work again, it just had to!

And it was. Harry could feel it, power crowding up inside him, pure raw energy building up to a point that no mere Petrificus would be able to withstand . . .

"Thank you, Professor," he could hear Malfoy say as though from a long, long distance. The man sounded like he was trying not to pant. "Potter truly is vicious."

"Attempting to kill a school governor," said Aran, practically sputtering. "And with such . . . unnatural magic! Shocking, shocking behaviour!" The Defence professor cleared his throat. "But as for your son, Mr Malfoy. A Portkey? We never discussed anything of that nature!"

"I'm afraid it really was the only way to remove him from that boy's horrid influence," said Lucius, his voice satisfied now that he'd caught his breath. "Surely you agree, hmmm?"

"You told me you merely wished to talk to him so you could get past your misunderstandings!"

Lucius gave a low laugh. "Precisely. And I hardly think he'll listen to me here. But don't fret, Professor. I'll have him back to Hogwarts safe and sound before breakfast tomorrow. And trust me, he won't be associating with Harry Potter any longer."

From where he lay, Harry could barely see Malfoy dusting himself off as he spoke. Then picking something up. A scent drifted over Harry's face. Ashes. Charred wood.

"Shall I summon the Aurors to take Potter away?" asked Aran. "Or would you prefer to file charges, yourself?"

"I hardly think it will help my social standing for it to be known that a slip of a boy nearly melted me," drawled Lucius as he reached inside his robes for something.

"Oh. Well then, you can rely on my discretion. I'm pleased I could be of service," said Aran. "You'll remember it when the board meets to consider next year's appointments?"

"Actually, I'm afraid your service to me is at an end." Smiling, Lucius extended Draco's new wand, a spell already on his lips. One Harry didn't recognise.

Harry didn't see or hear what happened next; he was too busy redoubling his efforts to break his way free. He felt the spell binding him begin to crack. The snake in the corner of his lens was nodding at him, now, encouraging him, and Harry pulled on his deepest reserves, right down into his very heart, and summoned forth all the love he had. Not just for Draco, but Severus as well. And Sirius. And his parents. And even Dumbledore--

His glasses were abruptly plucked off his face and removed from his view.

The snake vanished.

And with her, every last trace of the power Harry had managed to summon forth. He felt like a slab of stone now. Lifeless, inert.

Yet he could see and hear. In fact, he had no choice but to. He couldn't close his eyes.

And Lucius knew it.

"Such a pity you still need glasses," said Lucius softly, his face so close Harry thought he must be kneeling alongside him and leaning over. "Your dear father couldn't restore you completely after our fun and games last time? Ah, well. No reason why we can't resume, eh? And these glasses would only have got in the way."

As Lucius stood up, Harry heard a cracking, crunching noise and knew his glasses were being crushed to dust beneath the man's heel.

Then Lucius was kneeling again, back at his side. He ran the pad of his thumb across the surface of one of Harry's open, frozen eyes, his touch lingering before it moved on to the other one. "Still, this truly is some of the loveliest healing work I've ever seen. Severus must be quite proud of your eyes. I must be sure to return them to him once I've plucked them from your head. Do you think he'll display them in one of his jars with his other collected oddities?"

It was all Harry could do not to squirm in disgust, but of course, he couldn't squirm. He couldn't do a damned thing!

"Well, we must be off," said Lucius. "Your charming little spell was probably something to summon Severus? My, he is slow to respond. I wonder what that means. At any rate, it really was delightfully stupid of you to advertise your presence like that. Didn't you learn from what happened last time that I keep an ear out for Parseltongue? So then, come along."

Using Draco's wand, the man flipped Harry's petrified body upright and floated it over to the Floo. "You know, I find it amusing that it was Draco's revulsion for snakes that led to him discovering your Parsel ability in the first place. He thought casting that viper at you was the most vicious thing he could do."

Stepping in beside him, Lucius leaned over to croon in Harry's ear. "Brothers, are you now? I wouldn't count on that lasting. Draco won't ever want to see you again, not after the punishment I've devised. I do hope that living in such close quarters with a Parselmouth hasn't assuaged his irrational fears. It would be such a pity if the new room I've had the elves make for him was put to waste. Though I'm sure that room isn't really the appropriate term. It's more a pit. A snake pit."

Lucius laughed. "Yes, he's there right now. And by the time I'm ready to allow him release . . . oh, yes. He'll have reconsidered his strange obsession with you. He'll reverse the regrettable choices he's made this year. All of them."

With that, Lucius threw down a pinch of powder.

Harry's world dissolved into flames.