“I’m cleared?”

The soft spoken whisper cut through the silence settled over the potion’s master’s kitchen, startling no one save the flames flickering in the fireplace.

Severus was, predictably, languidly sipping tea while flipping trough a potions journal, activities he had engaged himself in since Black, Lupin and Harry had stepped trough his Floo half n hour ago.

Never one to put up with much (any) hysterics, Severus had stuck the morning’s edition of the Daily Prophet under the former fugitive’s nose the very instant he had stepped through. Then, while the animagus stood frozen in the living room, had ordered the incorrigible brat to take a bath and tidy is bed, doing his best to ignore the werewolf in the room. Harry, ever eager to please and beside himself with joy, had grinned, snatched the professor up into a bruising hug and scampered off, while Remus looked on with what Snape thought was a far too amused expression.

Severus had narrowed his eyes at the man in warning, turned smartly on his heel and snapped back over to the kitchen table, from which Ron and Draco had previously been unceremoniously banished once they had cleared their plates (three times apiece), intent on finishing is morning cup. He had been joined shortly thereafter by Lupin, who was dragging a still stunned and gaping Black behind him. After settling the man into a chair, Remus had claimed another for himself, and had cordially asked Snape if he minded if he poured himself a cup of tea.

Severus had only grunted.

Remus had beamed, fixed is cup, and while he was fixing a plate for his best friend, had asked the dour man what he thought of the news.

Severus ad graced him with another grunt.

Similar attempts at conversation had been treated in much the same fashion, though with varying degrees of irritation or apathy being directed at the werewolf. It was into a particularly long lull in communication that Sirius had spoken.

“I’m cleared.”

Severus, surprisingly, had the good grace not to sneer. He did, however, fix the man with a rather sharp look that made him look rather like an impatient vulture. “You are. Shall we, move onto the next blindingly obvious statement, or must I resign myself to listening to this irritating repetition for the foreseeable future?”

Sirius, though, wasn’t paying Severus the slightest bit of attention. His face had morphed from that if intense disbelief to malicious glee.

“They caught Peter.”

Severus snorted and rolled his eyes. “I was wondering when you would get that.”

While Sirius descended to the realm of the insanely cackling lunatics to which he was born, Remus was sulking.

“What’s you’re problem now, Lupin?”

The werewolf pouted further. “Now Moony won’t be able to eat him,” the man replied. “He was really looking forward to it.”

Severus gazed at the man for a full minute, blinked and looked away. Sirius, however, was giving his friend a disgusted glare. “I can’t believe you’d actually eat Peter!” he all but shouted. “He’d – he’d give you indigestion!” he exclaimed, in a tone usually reserved for horrifying phantoms and terror-inducing dark lords.

Severus opened his mouth to scold Black about showing his stupid at his kitchen table, but was cut off by Remus’ derisive snort.

“I wouldn’t eat him human, you idiot. I’d never be able to swallow that filth. Let alone his girth,” he explained. Despite his logic, Severus as still worried. And with good reason. “Moony’d eat him in his rat form. It is clearly the more convenient route.” He nodded decisively.

Severus closed his eyes. He wasn’t listening to this.

“Well, yea-a-a-a-a,” Sirius dragged childishly, reaching to snatch up Remus’ teacup and peer inside, to Severus’ mixed irritation and amusement. “But that way’s hardly filling,” he continued, thoughtfully piercing a few scrambled eggs from his plate.

To Snape’s alarm, Remus actually snarled. “I’m not eating him for his nutritional content!” he roared, leaning towards Black menacingly. “I’m eating him for REVENGE!”

Black tilted is head to the side thoughtfully, absently tapping the tines of his fork against his teeth. After a moment of consideration, he shrugged. “Oh, well that’s fine then.”

Remus beamed.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. Idiots. He was surrounded by idiots.

~*_______*~

Meanwhile, down the hall and two doors to the left, the inhabitants of the Isle of Awkward Silence sat upon various pieces of furniture or the floor, twiddling their thumbs in abject discomfiture.

Harry, whose room they all occupied, was pretty much only semi-bothered by the quiet. True, it was equally awkward for him as it was for Draco and Ron to be here sitting in the same room together, alone, mostly because he still needed to explain to his best friend all the events that had led up to them all being here in the first place. And, really, that was way more explaining than he wanted to do. Ever. Not to mention the fact that Ron hated Draco about as much as he hated Snape, which…….according t this morning……wasn’t all that much….

Ron’s apparent non-hatred for all things Snape had Harry completely stumped, if he was honest about it. It was so sudden and ….so complete that Harry was beginning to become suspicious. And, to make matters even more strange, not only did the redhead suddenly not hate Snape anymore, but now he was refraining from making a fuss about the presence of Draco in is best friend’s room.

True, Harry thought it would be easier for everyone if Ron didn’t throw a Weasley-sized tantrum in the midst of all this unstable ground in the potion’s master’s quarters, but the fact the he didn’t even seem to want to throw a tantrum of any size in the midst of all this was ………unsettling.

Draco, coincidentally, was thinking much of the same thoughts. Why hadn’t Weasl – erm, Ron attacked him yet? Things wouldn’t usually escalate to a physical level without considerable provocation, he could freely admit, but the other boy could have at least called him ‘ferret’ in a derisive manner or something! He barely resisted the urge to huff in exasperation. If you leave it to Gryffindors, you were bound to have the rug pulled out from under you.

Repeatedly.

Ron Weasley had never been much for silence. It always left him with an empty buzz in his head. Neither had he ever been much for reading people. That was a Hermione thing something she did best and e thought was best left in her domain. Both things, among others, however, had changed over the past summer. As such, he spent the time Harry and Draco spent studying their fingernails or the floor, studying them.

Draco was a bit difficult, what with that blank mask he was so fond of wearing. But every now and then it would slip, and Ron could see that he was worried, a little bit, about something. Most helpful, though, in reading Draco was the things he didn’t have to read. For instance there was no anger, at least not that he could see, no lingering irritation at having to share breakfast in the presence of a ‘blood traitor’. Draco wasn’t even mildly disturbed at Harry being in the same room with him, and in pajamas, no less. In fact, every so often Ron would see is eyes travel over to glance at his dark-haired friend, heavy with some combination of uncertainty, hope and worry.

Storing that bit of information away for later analysis, Ron turned his focus to Harry.  Truthfully, he would have laughed if the room hadn’t been so tense. Harry was, above everything else, confused. Ron could think of a number of things that could be confusing his friend, but he doubted any of them were truly bothering the boy. Underneath the thick veil of confusion he could see a bit of worry and anticipation, and bubbling under the surface was something he ad rarely ever seen in Harry: happiness. It was written across his eyebrows and in his cheeks, and in the crack of the smile that tried to usurp control over his face every so often.

Ron smiled, then heaved a put-upon sigh; if he didn’t break the silence now they’d be sitting here till one of the adults came looking for them.

“Look, Harry, Draco. I realize that there are a lot of things that have happened in the past few days, or even this past summer that I have no knowledge of that have changed ….a lot with you two. Some of it I’ll probably know about later, some of it I probably won’t; either way is fine with me. But for now, how about a truce? We agree to not drive each other crazy or do anything to invoke the wrath of Professor Snape, and try to make this new situation work, for everyone. Deal?”

Draco studied Ron for a moment, hiding behind his blank mask as he considered the boy’s words. One thing he was certain of, this wasn’t the same Weasley he’d been going to school with for the past four years. This boy was under Imperious, of otherwise cursed, a Golem or someone’s idea of a good joke. Draco was not amused. But e was willing to go along with this charade for as long as it lasted. Then, when it was all done, he’d hunt down, torture and feed to his evil hairless otters the idiot who saw fit to make a mockery of his discomfort. Having reached his decision, Draco relaxed a bit. “Hi. I’m Draco. I’m slightly unhinged, so don’t leave any furry animals lying around, yea?”

Harry watched in shock as Ron offered a …….truce. His head spun. If Ron kept surprising him like this, he was likely to have a mental breakdown soon! He grinned a bit at Draco’s introduction. He never thought Draco could joke around like that. Maybe he’d been missing out on something all these years…..

“Um, yea, that’s cool Ron. I guess we could work on that.” He nibbled his lip nervously. “But I do have some stuff to tell you, only, it’s kinda hard to talk about. I don’t know if I can, right now but – “

“Harry, relax. I just said its ok. I’m not going to push you into talking to me, especially if it’s something that makes you that uncomfortable. Whenever you’re ready, mate.”

Harry sighed a bit in relief. That was good. Even if he did think he should tell his friend sooner, rather than later. “So, erm, how’s Hermione?”

Ron shrugged. “Dunno, haven’t seen her since she blew up in that class room yesterday, after you left, I mean.”

Harry instantly felt guilty. “Sorry, Ron, I really  - “

A pillow socked him in the face. Stunned, Harry looked up to see his best friend looking down at him and Malfoy trying not to laugh. “Apologize for what she did yesterday again, and I’m going to tell Snape.”

“But I already told him,” Harry answered, turning to look at the pillow lying innocently in his lap. “And you hit me with a pillow!”

Draco snorted. Ron gave him a haughty look. “Yes, well, you were about to make an incredibly dumb remark.” Harry pouted.

Suddenly, Severus was in the doorway. “Did I not tell you, child, to take a bath? And why it is that this bed is not made as yet? Perhaps you want your best friend to see you punished so early in the morning before I ban him from these quarters indefinitely?”

Harry pouted more, much to Draco’s and Severus’ private amusement, and stood. “No sir,” he mumbled, and, pulling a bundle of clothes from the drawers in his wardrobe, dragged himself to his bathroom and closed the door.

What Severus didn’t know was that Ron could see his amusement, as well as the other feelings for the boy he was supposed to be hiding. Taking a deep breath, Ron stood, and made his way to stand in front of his Potions Professor. Looking him straight in the eye, he said, “Professor, I’d like to thank you for helping Harry. I don’t know exactly what all that includes, but I can already see it’s helped a lot.”

Severus, for his part, managed to not look as shocked as he felt. Gratitude? From a Weasley? On behalf of someone else? To him? He was sure he was currently imagining things. However the sentiment couldn’t go unacknowledged. “Very well, Ronald.” He noticed with amusement that the boy’s ears turned pink. “But I assure you, gratitude is not necessary. This should have been done a long time ago.”

“What exactly is ‘this’, sir?”

“At the moment, Harry is my ward. In a few weeks time, hopefully, his status should be changed to that of my son,” he explained, and then waited for the fallout.

There was none.

Ron simply nodded. “That’s…unexpected. I guess I’ll have to wait to know why, exactly.”

An eyebrow rose. “Harry hasn’t told you?”

“No, sir, and I’m not going to push him.”

The other eyebrow joined the first. ‘Really, now?’ “Indeed. Tell me, Mr. Weasley. Shall I be gifted with similar displays of maturity from all of your siblings currently attending Hogwarts, or is this just a temporary variation from your personality?”

Ron grinned, and though Severus suspected it was more at the general implication of his words than fro actual amusement, he was still floored that the boy had actually understood him. ‘Will wonders ever cease?’

“It’s just me, Professor. Fred and George wouldn’t display a modicum of maturity if you paid them, and Ginny didn’t come back this year.”

Severus’ brow furrowed. “Forgive my intrusion, Ronald, but has your family’s financial situation become so perilous?” The Weasley girl, for all her brass, was a remarkably brilliant student. What was more, he was under the impression that her fees were being covered….

Ron grimaced, shot a look over his shoulder at the blond boy who was being uncharacteristically quiet, and then turned back to the professor. “Not exactly, Professor. You know of my Aunt Muriel?” Severus nodded. He had met the tyrannical woman far too many times for his liking. “Well she demands Ginny come up and see her for a few weeks every summer, and in return she pays her fees. This summer, though, she didn’t let Gin come back. Gin hates it, she really does. Aunt Muriel is always going on about proper pureblood female etiquette, constantly coaching her on how to land a good, rich husband, especially since she’s the first Weasley female since Muriel herself and Dad doesn’t make the salary she likes. The thing is, she’s holding Dad’s inheritance from him, and that’s what she’s using for Gin’s fees. She won’t give him any, of even lend him some, and that’s always been a major point of contention with Mum. That and she’s hell bent on Gin landing Harry, and goes on for hours the minute Gin insists she doesn’t like him that way. All we know is for some reason she didn’t let Gin come back this summer as usual, Mum’s in a twist and nothing Dad says to Aunt Muriel can change her mind. She’s even changed the wards so that he can’t get into the place to bring Ginny back.” The boy paused for breath and ran his hand through his hair. When he looked back up to the Professor, he was sporting a light blush. “I think I said too much.”

“No,” Severus intoned, deep in thought and silently seething. “You’ve said quite enough.”

With that, he spun on his heels and stalked back to the living room.

But he didn’t expect to see Cornelius Fudge perched in his armchair. No, he did not.