Dumbledore looked mystified, and Snape scowled. Trust the brat to blurt it out like that, right in front of the Headmaster. Did he have no discretion at all? Well, no actually. Yet one more thing he would obviously need to teach the boy. For now, however, he contented himself with a forbidding glare and a stern, “You already know my position on that, Mr Potter.”

Harry grinned, to the continuing confusion of Ron and Dumbledore, and eased his robe over his bare shoulders.

“Headmaster,” Snape said, spinning away from the cheeky brat before he swatted him or – worse – lost control of his own twitching lips. “I suggest we secure Mr Malfoy immediately. If Potter’s assailants have become alarmed by his apparent lack of injuries, they might decide to act against Malfoy pre-emptively.”

Dumbledore nodded gravely. Calling a house elf, he sent it to fetch Draco immediately. “Hopefully that summons will sound ominous enough to reassure Harry’s attackers,” he observed. “Tea, anyone?”

Whether or not it reassured the assailants, the command undoubtedly unsettled Draco. It was a decidedly apprehensive Slytherin who was escorted into the office a few minutes later. Seeing his Head of House glowering darkly, as well as two of his most heated schoolmates, did nothing to allay his fears. “Yes, Headmaster?” he asked, failing miserably in his attempt at a Malfoy smirk.

Unfortunately, Ron and Harry were unable to enjoy their nemesis’ discomfiture. Harry’s tussle with Snape had started his bruises throbbing anew, and Ron was still dazedly trying to come to terms with the enormity of his blunder.

Draco was even more unnerved when Snape swooped down upon him. “Give me your wand,” he demanded abruptly.

“What? Why?” Draco asked blankly. Then, at the expression on his professor’s face, he hastily handed over the wand. “What is it?” he asked again, but to his surprise and annoyance, everyone ignored him.

The two professors bent their attention to the wand. Abruptly Snape looked up, his gaze pinning Draco like a searchlight. “Mr Malfoy,” he purred, “can you explain to me why your wand was used to hex, levitate, and injure a fellow student?”

“What?!” Draco’s astonishment was enough to reassure both adults that Harry had been correct and Draco was not a willing participant to the attack. “But I didn’t. I mean, I may – “ he shot a nervous glare at Ron and Harry “ – have hexed someone once or twice, but it was in self-defense. And I haven’t levitated anyone at all. I don’t care what some Gryffindor says. It’s not true!” he spat, glaring at Harry.

“Your wand says otherwise,” Snape said impassively, holding it out so Draco could see what the spells had revealed. Draco looked and paled. He began shaking his head disbelievingly. “I didn’t. I swear…”

Snape loomed over him. “You’re asking me to believe you let someone else use your wand? Your great-grandfather’s wand? We both know what your father would do to you if he even thought you let a non-Malfoy touch it, let alone use it to do magic.”

“But – but – but –“ Draco looked frantic. “I didn’t, Uncle Sev. I didn’t let anyone else use it, but I didn’t do those spells either.”

“Can you explain this?” Snape was implacable, his features an expressionless mask.

Draco sagged. “No.”

“Fortunately for you,” Snape said, as unemotional as before, “Mr Potter can.”

Draco’s head jerked up. “What!”

“Yes, Mr Malfoy, your scholastic career, not to mention your skin, has been saved by Mr Potter. It is thanks to him that you and your wand are unharmed.”

“But how –“

“Mr Potter overheard a conspiracy that sought to blame you for a serious assault on him. Had he not happened to hear the plot and decide to share his knowledge, you would most likely have been expelled. What is more, even if you had avoided that fate, the conspirators had plans to snap your wand.” Draco paled still further. Harry began to worry that he was going to collapse where he stood. As much as he disliked Draco and had long wished Snape would harangue him the way he attacked Gryffindors, he was finding the reality too painful to enjoy. “And do you know why you now owe Mr Potter a significant debt, Mr Malfoy?” Snape asked, his voice dropping dangerously as he stooped until he was nose to nose with the trembling student.

“No, sir,” Draco managed – barely – to answer.

“Because you behaved like a brainless Hufflepuff and didn’t bother to safeguard your wand, you arrogant little fool!” Snape roared. Everyone in the room, even the Headmaster, jumped, and Draco flinched violently. “That a Slytherin should be so oblivious to a conspiracy against him, happening right under his very nose, is absolutely appalling,” Snape continued, shouting loud enough that Harry wanted to put his hands over his ears. “But I cannot believe that a member of my House, MY GODSON NO LESS, would be so stupid as to allow someone not only to steal his wand but also to put it back and not even NOTICE that it had been used! Have you lost your mind? Has consorting with Crabbe and Goyle reduced your intellectual level to theirs? Or is it your father’s Pureblood nonsense that has made you so dangerously overconfident?” Snape abruptly shot out a hand and grabbed his godson by the ear. Draco let out a pain-filled squeak but was too stunned by the revelations to protest further. “Do you have any idea what your father would do to you if he learned of this?”

Draco shuddered violently enough for even Ron to notice. “Please, Uncle Sev…” Draco whispered, his eyes wide and terrified. Harry was abruptly certain that Draco’s fear wasn’t due to the palpable fury of the man before him, but rather the mere thought of his father’s reaction.

Snape tightened his grip on Draco’s ear. “If you ever again demonstrate such stupidity, Draco, I will tell your father,” he promised sternly.

Harry let out his breath in a sigh of relief that mirrored Draco’s. That meant Snape wouldn’t tell Lucius about this incident. Harry had had enough beatings at the hands of the Dursleys not to want to see anyone else treated similarly. Not even Malfoy.

Snape pushed Draco towards the chair next to Harry, and the blond boy all but collapsed into it. Harry eyed him with poorly disguised concern, and for once Draco didn’t make any attempt to sneer or pick a fight. He merely rubbed his sore ear and watched Snape nervously.

“Headmaster, we must take steps to safeguard both boys,” Snape said coldly, turning away from the students.

Dumbledore’s eyes lingered on the shivering Slytherin boy a moment longer, then turned reproachfully to Snape. Draco was the man’s godson, as well as a member of his House, but still…

Snape glared back. Dumbeldore’s lemon drops and soft words were hardly effective on a Malfoy, and his treatment of the boy had been nothing compared to what Lucius would have done (would still do) if he learned of the boy’s idiocy. Draco had, at best, been careless with a family heirloom. At worst, he was beginning to believe Lucius’ Death Eater nonsense about the inherent supremacy of all Purebloods. Either way, Snape was most displeased with his godson, and the boy was lucky to escape with nothing more than a pinched ear and deflated ego.

“Perhaps Poppy can sequester them in the Infirmary for a few days,” Dumbledore suggested. “Harry won’t be ready for release much before that anyway, and Draco can keep him company.”

Harry looked appalled at the prospect, but it was unsurprisingly Draco who voiced the protest. “I don’t need to go to the Infirmary! I’m not hurt.”

Snape turned slowly and both boys shrank back involuntarily. “You are correct, Draco,” Snape agreed silkily. “But that is easily remedied. Come here.”

If Draco needed his backside, as well as his ego, to be bruised before he would modify his behavior, Snape was willing to oblige. It would still be nothing compared to what the boy had endured from Lucius Malfoy.

Draco tried to burrow deeper into the seat cushions. “No, please, I wasn’t arguing, Uncle Sev. I didn’t mean anything. I’ll go!”

With one last warning glance, Snape turned away, and again both boys sighed in relief.

“Merlin, Potter,” Draco whispered. “What is going on?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Harry whispered back. Friends of not, in a situation like this, their age formed a bond between them. Harry glanced over at Ron. What was his reaction to Malfoy’s discomfort? But Ron just stared at the floor, seemingly oblivious to everything around him.

“There cannot be that many people with a hatred for both Potter and Malfoy,” Snape pointed out to the Headmaster, ignoring the boys’ sotto voce conversation.

“Mmm,” Dumbledore agreed thoughtfully. “It shouldn’t be too hard to determine who the culprits are.”

“And I trust there will be no nonsense about their punishment, Headmaster?” Snape warned, his most forbidding glance firmly in place.

Dumbledore sighed. “I fear in such a case there is no place for leniency,” he said sadly, and Snape nodded in satisfaction.

“Perhaps you would be kind enough to escort the boys to Poppy and explain the situation, Headmaster? If I return to her domain, I suspect she’ll hex me to the bed.”

“I did tell you that sneaking out of there while she was attending to the boy in the Ravenclaw dormitory was a bad idea, Severus,” the Headmaster twinkled at him. “Come along, boys,” he said, shepherding them to their feet.

“Weasley, remain behind,” Snape ordered before the unusually quiet redhead could rise. At Dumbledore’s questioning look, Snape said blandly, “You don’t mind if I remain here for a few minutes, do you? I’m still a bit weak from my injuries.”

Dumbledore gave him a strange look. For Severus Snape to admit weakness was unusual. To do so in front of students was unthinkable. And why did the statement make the Weasley boy look stricken? Shouldn’t he be pleased by such an announcement from his hated professor?

“Of course, my boy. Take as long as you need. Can I get you anything?”

“Thank you, Headmaster. If I need anything, I’m certain Mr Weasley will be more than accommodating.” Again, Ron winced. Dumbledore knew something was going on, but he also knew Snape wouldn’t divulge anything until he was good and ready, so he subdued his curiosity and ushered the other boys out.

“S-sir?” Draco paused at the doorway, looking back at Snape. “May I have my wand back?”

The professor regarded him coolly for a moment, then: “No. Perhaps several days without it will teach you to take better care of it.”

For an instant it looked like Draco might be foolish enough to argue, and Harry gave him a quick poke in the side. Whether Draco realized it or not, Harry could see that Snape was near the end of his patience. Though he wasn’t fond of Draco, neither did Harry wish to see him thrashed – verbally or physically. Draco glanced back at him, caught the warning look, and for once listened. He subsided meekly, pausing only long enough to give Snape the “sad puppy dog” eyes that had proven so useful with his mother.

The dour man merely glared back, wholly unmoved, and Draco hurried after the Headmaster, uncomfortably aware that he now owed Harry another debt for his timely intervention.