As was his usual wont, Ted stared sightlessly at the morning cuppa Andy had set before him. He was not a morning person.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Ted,” Andromeda chided. “Drink your tea and join the living.”

“Hmm?” Ted grunted and then snuffled. “Oh yes. Present, Dear. Are we waiting breakfast for Nym then?”

While she busied herself with a fresh pot of tea, Ted sipped his already cold cup. He blearily eyed the owl winging its way toward the open kitchen window.

"Mail's here," he announced.

"Oh good," Andromeda said, joining him at the table with the fresh pot. She vanished his cold tea and spelled the pot to pour him a fresh cup as the owl flew in and dropped a stack of post on the table. Andromeda was ready with a knut and a treat, and the owl hooted its thanks before turning and flapping up and away.

Ted pulled the morning edition of the Prophet from the stack, and left Andromeda to deal with the rest. He sat back after a sip of hot tea, and snapped the paper open, his eyes accosted by the blaring headlines.

“Oh Andy, Dear..." he began.,just as his wife turned and said:

"Here's something for you, Dear..."

He nodded at her to go first, not sure how she'd take his news.

"It's from Hogwarts,” she said, handing him the scrolled piece of parchment addressed to him. He folded the paper up and took the scroll from her.

He opened it and quickly scanned the contents with some surprise, his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly open..

"What? What is it?” Andromeda questioned with a frown.

Ted gave a small laugh and said, "Well. Didn't expect that."

"What is it?" his wife asked, exasperation making her voice raspy. She knew her husband of thirty years did like to spin out his tales.

"It's from none other than Albus Dumbledore. He's offering me the position of Muggle Studies Professor for the new school year!"

"He what?" Andromeda yelped in surprise, snatching the parchment from his hands and reading through it herself.

She lifted her eyes to his, widened in surprise, and they stared at one another a moment before both burst into laughter.

"Me? A professor?” Ted chuckled. "Why would he think of me?"

"Well, why not?, " Andromeda asked. "You do have teaching experience, Dear. You teach Muggles. You have a better idea about teaching Muggle ways, a hands-on idea, than most, after all."

Ted considered her words, although he wasn't exactly sure if a Muggle upbringing and a stint giving woodworking lessons to Muggles qualified him as a professor of anything.

"I think you should consider it, Dear," his wife said. " It will give you something more to do than waiting round for carpentry commissions.”

Ted scowled and shook his head. Andromeda sat across from him, and wove her fingers through his.

"And," she pointed out, " You could still make pieces while teaching, you wouldn't have to give it up entirely. Maybe you could incorporate it into a lesson. You know, have them carve something with their own two hands, no magic, as a term project."

Ted looked at his wife. He made good money from his commissions, and she, as a wizarding portraitist did well too, they weren't hurting for money, but did she want him to be steadily employed? Have a full time job? He knew that although she'd always defended him and his choices, her family had always scoffed. Them throwing her out of the family had been the best thing that could have happened to Ted, no matter how selfish it made him seem. She had married him despite everyone’s objections, and had never complained, but...did she want him to have a respectable wizarding job?

Was that what she was saying?

She looked up from perusing the mail, his silence causing her to frown a bit, but then her expression softened and she said, "Only if you want to, Dear. I'm happy as we are, and will be happy no matter what you choose to do. It's your decision, my love."

Ted smiled and lifted her hand. He gave her knuckles a light brush of his lips. "Maybe Dumbledore should hire the woman with all the ideas instead."

With a final squeeze of fingers, Ted said, "I'll think about it, Andy.

He turned his attention back to the paper, opening it to the front page. He skimmed the headlines and accompanying article, cleared his throat and said, "Andy."

She stopped absently stirring her tea, the clinking of the spoon against the china suddenly silenced. She asked, “Something interesting today?”

"Erm, you might want to see this.” He held up the paper for her to see. “Seems your sister and brother-in-law have been arrested."

“What? No!” she blurted out, snatching the paper from him. He watched her eyes grow impossibly wider as she quickly read the article. Once done, she crunched the offending paper between her fists, her mouth forming a little ‘O.’

“It was bound to happen sooner or later, Dear,” He said gently, reaching for her hand again, “Malfoy always was a bit dodgy, you know that. Seems his money couldn't save him this time."

"B- but my sister," Andromeda said faintly. "What about their son? H-he's just a boy."

"I don't know, Dear.” Ted answered. He needed to distract his wife from the turmoil discussion of her family always caused. He blurted out, “Perhaps Dora will know something. Where is that girl anyway? Bit late, isn't she?"

This proved to be the distraction he hoped, as Andy stood and said, "Yes, yes, she is. I…hope this doesn't have any repercussions for her career, Ted. I mean...they can't hold this against her, can they? She can't help who her family is. After all, they didn’t hold Bella against her."

"If there were to be anything said, I'm sure Alastor would defend her, Andy.” Ted reminded her “And that bloke Kingsley she works with. She said he’s an up and comer and they are pretty good friends according to her. He would definitely put in a word for her.

"Of course they would.” His wife shook her head and said, “I don’t know why I’m borrowing problems. I'll start breakfast. Nym can eat when she gets here."

Ted picked up the crushed paper, smoothing it out and continued reading where he left off, while she puttered about the kitchen. After a few moments of companionable silence, Ted heard the clatter of Dora’s entrance as Andromeda’s crup, Big Tony, joyfully announced her entrance with ear piercing yips.

"Oi! Big Tony, you bloody mongrel! Lying in the doorway!" they heard her exclaim. She came into the kitchen, talking as she did "Oh good, breakfast. I'm bloody starving, I am. Bit of excitement last night and all!"

She took her seat at the table, bringing her knee into the chair and sitting on her foot, a habit Andy hated, but that she had never been able to break. Ted smiled to himself and said, "Sounds like. Were you involved?"

"Well, I was in the Department doing some paperwork when they brought him in, but not directly involved. He put up quite the fuss at not finding the accommodations as posh as he'd like. What a brat. Nothing like that poor Potter sprog. He was nice, polite, and seemed rather happy to be there."

She shook her head and added, "Bit embarrassed to admit I'm related to him, I am."

Ted looked at Andromeda, who looked back in confusion, and said to their daughter "Lucius kicked up a fuss. No surprise there, but what about your aunt? I can't picture my prim and proper sister…"

"Well, I didn't see them, did I? The Ministry took them directly to holding cells, as slippery as he is." she said, "I'm talking about my pointy little ponce of a cousin."

Ted felt more than a little sick at what Dora was saying. “They arrested a child? That doesn’t seem right, even for Fudge.”

He looked at Dora doubtfully, and she rolled her eyes. "Even old Fudgey isn't that bad, Dad. No, they brought the brat in under the Family and Children Department, to their facility ‘til they can decide who they are going to impose him on."

Andromeda plonked a plate of toast in front of her daughter, her lips thinned in irritation. She spelled Nym’s cup full and turned back to the hob.

Nym took an unladylike gulp of the tea and added, "It ain't Malfoy Manor, he let them know about it, nasty little bugger."

"Nym," Andy said chidingly, "he's just a child."

“It must have been all very frightening to him.” Ted added. “He’s only— what, twelve, maybe thirteen?”

"About that, I think," Andy said thoughtfully.

"Well, he's year mates with the Potter boy, from what Charity Burbage said.” Nym reached for a slice of toast and pulled off part of the crust. ” When she told him he'd be sharing a dorm with Potter for the time being, he said he wasn't sharing a room with a filthy Mudblood loving Gryffindor, the prat. Potter didn’t say a word, just sat down. He glared at dear little cousin Draco enough to let him know what he thought of his insults, but that was all.” Nym had smashed the crust into a tight ball and she popped it in her mouth with deftly practised fingers.

“Needless to say, two of Burbage’s crew disabused him of that notion right quick alright.” Nym continued as she took another piece of crust off the bread. “He didn't go happy, sneering at everyone, cursing. Potter, he was just calm as anything, like I said, seemed happy to be there.”

"But why was the Boy Who Lived there?" Ted asked. "I thought he lived with relatives of his mum, or something like that.”

Dora shrugged as she popped the crust in her mouth and began spooning out some scramble that Andy had put on the table. She shovelled some into her mouth and said, "Dunno, Dad, he was already there when I went on shift."

“Nymphadora!" Andy admonished, "I like to think we raised you better than to talk with your mouth full! Honestly, you are picking up some terrible habits from all those Auror friends of yours!"

Ted and Dora looked at one another in amusement. Dora swallowed her mouthful, swiped her hand across her lips and grinned, “Sorry, Mum."

"So both Draco and the Potter boy will be held there at the Ministry til...?" Ted asked his daughter, who had gobbled down her breakfast and was feeding some of her toast to the crup. "

“Yeah, Dad," she said, ”Charity explained it all. They hold them there til they find suitable relatives, or if no relatives, suitable homes from a list of applicants who are willing to take on brat to look after. There's a whole process, you know, they review applications, do interviews, home visit, make a decision based on all that. Merlin help the poor bastards who take on Malfoy's little darling."

She brushed her hands off on her trousers, stood up, giving a huge yawn and said, "Right, off to bed. I'm knackered."

She left the kitchen, Big Tony trotting after her sniffing the air interestedly.

The silence left behind from their daughter’s leaving was punctuated by cutlery across stoneware. Ted sipped more of his tea, thinking about how sad it was that Andy didn’t have any kind of relationship with her family. They’d always wanted more children, and her having the nephew around might have eased the pain of all those failed pregnancies. He had so wanted to ease her pain from the life she had been denied all those years, and here was a possible way to help a child and his wife. He ran a blunt finger around the rim of his cup.

Not that it would be easy to bring a child whose parents were like that into their house, but he just couldn’t see letting some other family take him in. Malfoy Sr was a nasty piece of work and no doubt had enemies galore. And then there was also the possibility of the child being further influenced by the darkness his parents had surrounded him with. Ted was sure, just like the boy’s father, that not all Death Eaters had been caught. He would hate to see one of them get the boy.

He took another sip of his tea and opened his mouth to voice his concerns when Andy said, “I know what you’re thinking, and no, Ted. I will not subject any of us to that.”

“But Andy, the boy is alone. He’s probably confused and hurting.” Ted said. “I’m sure it would be difficult for all of us, but he’s family to you.”

“And to him that would mean nothing,” Andy replied as she stood, snatched up her plate and vanished what was left of her meal into the compost pile outside. She then turned to the sink to set the dishes to wash. “No I won’t do it, Ted. I can’t.”

Ted said nothing as she whisked herself out of the room. He knew they’d revisit the topic. Andy was a compassionate woman. He would be able to talk her around if he approached her the right way. He’d done it when she had baulked at Dora becoming an Auror, he’d do it again.

***

Draco sat on his bed, the surprisingly comfortable bed, which he'd already made, and looked over disgustedly at the lump that was Potter. All he could see of him was a tangle of unruly black hair, burrowed as he was into the blankets. It annoyed Draco. He was accustomed to rising early, Mother insisted, no layabouts in the Manor, and if he were up, so should Potter be. He stood, went over to his bed, raised his foot and soundly kicked the bed frame.

"Oi, you uncivilised lout! Get up, Potter!" he shouted.

"Mmm..fug off, Malfoy" came the mumbled reply.

Harder this time, Draco again aimed a kick to the other boy's bed frame and sneered, "Of course you'd resort to foul language, Potter. To be expected of your ilk."

That got a reaction. Potter threw his bedclothes off and scrabbled on the nightstand for his glasses.

"My ilk", he said around a yawn, " that's rich coming from you. I'm sure Mummy Dearest didn't teach you any of the curse words you pitched at Professor Burbage and that Auror girl last night."

"You will not speak of my mother in any form, Potter!", Draco spat, outraged. "At least I have a mother!"

The other boy was on his feet and in Draco's face faster than the Slytherin could react, and he braced himself for a blow.

Instead of the expected punch, Potter, looking smug, said, " Sure about that, Malfoy? Then why are you here?"

Draco swallowed hard, and tried to keep himself from dissolving into the tears that had been threatening since last night.

He raised his hands and pushed Potter back a few steps saying grimly. "It's all a misunderstanding, is all. I'll be out of here and back with my family soon enough, Potter. Where will you go? Why are you here?”

Draco knew he'd hit a nerve there. Potter's face looked stricken for a moment, before he hitched up a half smile and said lamely, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Not really," Draco said drily, and hastily changed the subject. "Are they going to feed us? The Weasel’s father said meals were provided." "

“Don't call Ron that," Potter said belligerently.

"Calm down, Potty," Draco sneered. "No offence to your beau."

"Beau." Potter sneered back. "Big words from you, considering you don't have your two thug boyfriends around to defend you. Wanna see how fast I can make you cry?"

"Go on then!" Draco snapped back, "We'll see who's crying first!"

They stood glaring at one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Draco was in his duelling stance, and he noticed Potter’s fists were clenched at his sides.

With more relief than he wanted to admit feeling, they heard Professor Burbage call out from the common area.

"Morning, boys! Time to rise and shine!" She called in a sickeningly cheery voice. They both rolled their eyes in a brief moment of solidarity, and backed away from each other. Draco smoothed the counterpane on his bed again, to make sure it was perfect.

Potter pulled his trunk out and rooted around in it, grabbing his toiletries and heading off to the adjoining bathroom. When Burbage didn't enter, Draco sat on his bed, unsure of what to do. He could hear Potter splashing about, and Burbage, apparently across the hall now, calling out to someone else in that same cheery voice.

He didn't really want to fight with Potter, truth was, the Gryffindor was the only familiar thing here, sad as that was. Draco was counting on him to be a guide of sorts, of what to do. He'd never before found himself on his own like this with neither family or friends whose social cues he could follow. It was all so dreadfully unsettling and surreal, and Draco simply did not know what to do.

Potter emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a hideous oversized jumper, and jeans so worn they were practically threadbare, and began to make his bed. Draco watched him warily, and resisted the urge to disparage Potter's wardrobe. It wouldn't do to rile him further; not only was Draco afraid Potter might actually strike him, he needed to at least be civil so that Potter would be, not a friend, never a friend, but an ally for the time Draco had to spend here until Mother and Father came to take him back to their world.

Potter finished with his bed and glanced at Draco. He was still sitting on his own bed, waiting for a cue as to where to go from here. Potter's look of amusement made Draco grit his teeth, but he said nothing. After a moment, Potter shook his head and said, "Come on, we'll get some breakfast."

Draco stood and waited for Potter to lead the way. Potter opened the door and said over his shoulder, "You know, if you'd have shut your gob for a minute last night when they were explaining things to you, instead of screaming the place down like a banshee, you'd know what to do."

It was too much for Draco and so he retorted, “Oh, did I disturb your beauty sleep, Potter? It wouldn't have helped anyway.”

Potter stepped through the doorway without a rebuttal. Draco goaded, “You know you could take more pride in your appearance, Potter. Do you ever comb that rat's nest on your head?"

"Oh, stop! You'll turn my head with all those compliments," the other boy snarked back."C"mon, Prince Charming, I'm starving."

Draco followed Potter to what appeared to be a dining hall, with tables and chairs set around the room. He paused for a moment, looking around, seeing nothing to indicate any food was forthcoming. He followed Potter to one of the tables, and said, "Is there...a waiter... or something?"

Potter gave him a look of disdain and said, "Sit, you knob. It's like Hogwarts. Sit down and breakfast appears. The elves send it up from the kitchens. How do you think Ministry workers have their lunch everyday?"

"Right," Draco muttered, taking a seat. Like Hogwarts indeed; a small spread of breakfast food appeared as soon as he'd sat, along with plates, cups, and cutlery.

Potter immediately helped himself, loading his plate and tucking in as if he hadn't eaten in a year.

"Cretin, ' Draco said under his breath as he selected eggs, sausage, and toast for himself.

"Starving cretin," Potter snickered between bites of bacon.

Draco just sighed in disgust and began eating his own breakfast.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before curiosity got the better of Draco, and he asked quietly, "Why are you here, Potter? I thought Dumbledore placed you with relatives when you were an infant?"

Potter paused in his gobbling and eyed Draco with a frown."Why would I tell you anything, Malfoy? Why would I give you ammunition to make next school year as pleasant as you've made the first two?"

Fair enough, Draco thought, but he needed to make sure Potter didn't talk about this either. Especially the mortifying way he'd conducted himself last night, screaming, as Potter had so kindly pointed out, like a banshee. Father had taught him that you had to give, but only just enough to be able to take what you wanted, and in this case, it was Potter's silence. If he could niggle the truth out of Potter, he could hold it over his head to keep his silence. In order to do that, he was prepared to give a little.

"Why would I tell anyone anything, you moron?" Draco asked. "Did you think I came here for summer hols?"

The other boy smirked, that amused expression again, which made Draco want to kick Potter under the table, but he resisted. Potter countered unexpectedly, "You first."

It was a real battle for Draco to keep from lunging at the other boy in frustration. Nothing was as it should be. Draco should have the upper hand here! Not only was he a Malfoy, but a Slytherin as well! Nobody out slithered a Slytherin! Certainly not some ragamuffin Gryffindor!

Fine, he decided, he'd have to give sooner than he planned is all, but he kept his eye on the prize of Potter's silence. He'd show a little, just a smidge, of humility, and wrongfoot Potter. "They...they arrested my parents. Weasley’s father conducted a raid, and found...some things, and so they arrested them, but....it's a misunderstanding..."

"You mean like a dark diary?" Potter said grimly. "That your father might put in a little girl’s school supplies?"

"I, well, yes, I mean something like that I suppose, but that was just a book..." Draco said, slightly confused. Even if his father had needed to get rid of something quickly, he was sure he would never do something to harm a pureblood child, even one of a blood traitor. Mother would never countenance that.

Potter slitted his eyes, looking hard at Draco, but then something in his expression shifted, and he sighed heavily. "It wasn't ..it..doesn't matter. It's destroyed now. I don't think your father even knew what it really...contained. Dumbledore took care of it."

Draco had no idea what Potter was on about, so he said, "See? A misunderstanding."

Potter was looking at him with an expression that bordered on pity, and Draco didn't like that, but Potter's next words kept him silent. "My relatives...they are Muggles, and they hate magic. It... it was too much for them to deal with...so, I'm to be put with people who appreciate magic. You know, a wizarding family. It happens."

‘Is that all? Draco thought with disappointment. Being away from that could only be better for Potter then, couldn't it?

"Well....that ...you'll be better off then, won't you?," Draco observed " with our kind?"

"Yeah", Potter replied, "I guess so."

Draco watched him play with his fork a moment, and said in exasperation, "I'd be thrilled if I were you, Potter. Muggles can't understand what it's like to be wizards. Even if they acknowledge and appreciate it...like it seems Granger"s parents do...they can't ever know what it's like to have magic, to be like us. I don't know how they even survive at all. It's not true Muggles are just like us. They can never be just like us. Magic makes us better. That's the whole problem with Muggles. You should be dancing with joy to be away from them, even if they are your relatives."

"Is that what your father taught you?" Potter asked, a scowl on his face. ”Is that why you strut around like you own the place? Because you're better than everybody else?"

"Yes," Draco said earnestly. "We are. You too. Half blood is still better than Muggle. Even being a mudb....Muggleborn is better."

Potter stood up abruptly, causing his chair to screech loudly on the terrazzo floor. His tone was disparaging and harsh as he said,"Spare me the magic is might crap, yeah, Malfoy? Magic makes us different, not better. After all, your pureblood arse is still here too. Seems to me magic didn’t help you there."

Draco also stood, pushing in his chair and sneered, "What, Potter? You telling me you'd rather not have magic?"

"No, Malfoy," the other boy said with a mirthless smile. "I'm saying magic can't do everything. It can't bring back my parents. Let's see if it brings back yours."

Potter’s unflinching glare and jutting chin made Draco want to kick the other boy as hard as he could. Obviously Potter's relatives had coloured his view.

Looking at Potter standing there with his atrocious hair and his horrible clothes dispelled some of Draco's ire. The Muggle relatives apparently were not only unable to deal with Potter's magic, they didn't seem to care for him properly either. Taking a deep breath, Draco offered and was surprised that he actually meant it, "I'm sorry about your parents, Potter.”

Perhaps if Potter had been raised by magical parents, things could have been different. They might have been friends.

With a wry sort of smile, Potter said, "One of the few things in my life not your fault, Malfoy, but....thanks."

After a brief internal struggle not to retort and start another argument, Draco nodded and asked, "Now what?"

Potter shrugged and said, "Yeah...I don't think, other than meals, there's much of a routine here. They said there's books and things in the common area. Too bad there isn't a telly. Be nice to be able to watch for a change, without my cousin hogging it all day. Not that I was ever actually allowed to, mind."

Draco frowned. "A what? What's a ‘telly?’"

Potter laughed and said, "Muggle magic, Malfoy. C'mon, let's go see if there's a chess set or something."

Professor Burbage turned up again as Draco and Potter were battling it out on the chess board.

"Go on, you coward! Take him!" Potter urged his piece. Draco was still trying to imagine the point of a box that was just one continuous moving picture, as Potter had described what a "telly" was. You couldn't even interact with it! What kind of magic was that?

"Well," Professor Burbage said, a pleased smile breaking across her face, "it's good to see you two getting along for a change. Found a common ground, have you? It's nicer with friends, isn't it?”

Draco glanced at the other boy, and he almost laughed at the other boy’s comical nonplussed expression. Potter said with amusement. "Sure, Professor,"

Draco stood up, cleared his throat and said, "I would like to apologise, Professor, for my appalling conduct last night. There is no excuse for my behaviour, or for the things I said. I hope you'll forgive me."

"Oh, no, my dear boy, there's nothing to forgive. It was a strange and stressful situation, of course you would be upset. No, no, don't worry, Draco. I'm just glad to see you're feeling better this morning," she told him reassuringly.

"Thank you, Professor", Draco said, and took his seat again avoiding Potter’s gaze.

"Well," she said, " I just came to see how you're both getting on. If you have any questions, or need anything, all you need do is ask." Draco desperately wanted to ask after his parents, but he wasn't about to do so in front of Potter, so remained silent, as did the other boy.

"No?" Professor Burbage smiled, "alright then, I'll leave you to your game."

"Thank you, Professor" they both intoned, and watched her go.

"Arse kisser," Potter laughed at him.

"At least I have manners, Potter," Draco snapped.

"Of course you do," the other boy laughed, "you're a proper little pureblood prince."

Draco wasn't going to let it rile him though, and replied, "You know, Potter, I think you'll find that conducting oneself with propriety, manners, and grace, instead of like an uncouth, mannerless street urchin, will get you farther in life."

"So will removing the stick from your arse," Potter laughed.

"Well, there is some hope for you, Potter, with any luck you'll be placed with a proper family who will have the patience to undo all your feral habits," Draco said with a pleasant smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Starting with teaching you how to comb your hair and dress properly."

Potter looked momentarily stricken, but then rallied and snarked "Ooh, you mean a rich pureblood family that will turn me into a prancing little ponce like you?"

"You could do worse than turn out like me, Potter," Draco felt as if a jolt of fire had just run through him.

"I doubt it, Malfoy," Potter snapped back, and they were glaring at each other again.

Further argument was averted when the Weasel's father strode in, a big smile splitting his face at seeing Potter.

"Mr Weasley," the other boy said, standing.

"Harry, Good morning, my boy. Draco. I see you've settled in."

Weasley’s tone wasn’t as warm as he greeted Draco.

"Mr Weasley," Draco murmured.

"Harry, I wonder if I might have a word with you," Weasley said, nodding at Draco. He led Potter off to the side of the room, but Draco found he could still hear them.

"Two things I wanted to let you know, Harry," the senior Weasel said. "First, I wanted to let you know that Molly and I will be applying straightaway for custody of you."

"That's wonderful, Mr Weasley," Potty replied, and Draco noted how pleased and relieved Potter sounded.

"Good," Weasel senior said. "Now, it's a bit of a process, you understand, there's an interview and a home visit and such..."

"But, you work for the Ministry," Potter pointed out, "I mean, they can hardly say no."

"Yes, but while I may be able to nudge the process along, it is a process nonetheless, and there are legalities to consider, rules to follow, but both Charity Burbage and Amelia Bones know that you usually spend holidays with us already, so that will help."

"Right," Potter said happily. "I understand."

“And more good news, I received a big bonus. When the process is complete, we will all be going to Egypt.” Weasley said, with a pride-filled smile. “You’ll get to meet Bill and Charlie then.”

“That sounds wonderful, Mr Weasely,” Harry said. “ I’m looking forward to it. It will be worth the wait.”

“That’s my boy.” Weasley said affectionately, "Now, I must run, there's much to do, and Molly is already in a kerfuffle. We'll be together before you know it."

"Thank you, Mr Weasley, " Potter said gratefully "Give Mrs Weasley my love."

"How convenient, Potter," Draco said when the old Weasel had gone, "You get to be with your little girlfriend."

"You sound jealous, Malfoy," Potter said, that annoying look of amusement back. Honestly, Draco wished he could wipe that smirk off Potter's mug permanently.

"You wish," Draco snapped back, and Potter just laughed.

***

Severus ushered Charity and Madam Bones into his newly renovated suite. The elves had spent most of the night and much of the morning making ready for Potter’s possible arrival. It was just too much. The lounge had been redone in mostly neutral tones, but with Albus’ taste in mind. Gone were the sleek, dark, ascetic chairs sitting just so in front of the fire. They had been replaced with light, fluffy chairs with pillows and tassels. Severus was not a pillow and tassel type. The perfectly functional, if ancient, stained, and slightly burnt rug, had been changed to a not quite garish ochre Persian one.

His library, which had comprised most of his suite of rooms, had been shifted to another chamber, now off to the east of a newly magicked hallway, where the books rested on perfectly functional, but almost Rococo shelves of elf design. They had even put his darker books under wards. How was a man in the midst of an intellectual frenzy supposed to easily access whatever arcane tome had been brought to mind with wards he had to dismantle to bring said tome to him?

He shuddered to think of what horror had been wrought in Potter’s room. The little ingrate had every wizarding amenity he needed to live with and more. The room was garishly festooned in his house colours with Gryffindor themed wallpaper and a hideous red and gold carpet. If Potter didn’t go blind in the first week, Severus would eat a hippogriff.

Severus allowed the ladies to be seated on the not quite new, squashy rust-coloured couch. He didn’t entertain. He could count on one hand how many times any of his colleagues had entered his chambers and taken a seat for a chat, more likely a shouting match.

He assumed the least offensive of seats, a light brown leather one that seemed too slick for safety.

Charity began, “I was sur—erm intrigued to see your name thrown in the hat for custody of Harry Potter, Severus.”

Severus couldn’t contain the glower that still lingered from yesterday’s meeting, but he slid his best The-Dark-Lord-Needs-Volunteers expression of neutral negativity onto his face and answered, “I was moved by my feeling of concern for the boy’s safety should less desirable parties express an interest in him.”

He felt his fingernails dig into the arm of his chair as an elf sent a tea tray onto the surface of the not quite new tea table that would, no doubt, end up in barked shins and stubbed toes until Severus could get used to having a bloody table in the walkway.

Once the niceties of tea were settled, with Severus playing mother, Charity began again, “I see. There are, of course, criteria that need to be met. Perhaps you might show me the room you’ve prepared for Harry, whilst Madam Bones makes note of any logistical needs for housing such a high profile child.”

Severus rose, waiting for Charity to place her tea on the delicate saucer it had come with. Once they were out of the room and walking down the hallway, she rounded on Severus. “What has got into you? You hate the boy.”

“Is this an official question, Charity?’ Severus hissed.

She shoved his shoulder with her palm, “It’s a friend asking friend what Albus Dumbledore has on you, and why you have obviously caved to his pressure.”

Severus sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as he took a deep breath. After gathering his thoughts he said, “I truly do think the boy is in danger, and not just from Dark wizards Charity. The Dark Lord bragged about his immortality, and I’ve seen his presence in this very school twice now.”

“But why you, Severus?” Charity asked again. “Why not Minerva or Filius? They both were duelling champions and they don’t have your past associations.”

Severus schooled his features to stone as he bit out, “That information about my activities during the war was divulged to you in the strictest of confidence. Albus thought you needed to know because of your own affiliations.”

Charity stepped back from him, smoothing her hands over her robes as she did. “Of course it is, Severus. And I would never divulge that after what you did for us… what you explained your role was. I am just concerned that your duties carried out under Albus’ command might not be in the best interest of a boy who is in a fragile emotional state.”


Severus snorted inelegantly. “No doubt the boy is languishing in whatever hellscape the Ministry deems fit for teenage heroes. Whatever will he do without the accolades of his hungry public?”

“This! Severus, this is why I don’t think this placement is a good one. You’re supposed to be here to convince me, but you can’t contain your snarkiness about the boy for even one moment.” Charity whispered forcefully.

“Be that as it may,” Severus said through clenched teeth “I am what is best for the boy. I can protect him, and you needn’t worry about Albus interfering. I had him make a wand oath that any decisions about the boy, a possible war, or any other scenarios that might occur, are all under my control. The boy will be free of Albus’ machinations, as much as any of us allied against the Dark Lord are.”

Charity looked into Severus’ face, her eyes scanning his features. He met her gaze, for once openly. In the last twelve hours, he had become convinced that he was actually the best situation for the boy, Severus’ feelings on Potter be damned. Whatever she saw, she finally sighed, and said, “Very well, Severus, show me what horror Albus asked the elves to do for the boy.”

Charity’s whoop of laughter at the garish room aside, they returned to Madam Bones seated on the couch. She slid a notebook and a small quill into her briefcase as Severus ushered Charity to her seat.

The young professor said, “I am in mind to approve Severus for the guardianship, Amelia.”

Madam Bones’ gave a doubtful frown, “Mr Snape has answered all the questions to your satisfaction, Charity?”

“He has allayed any doubts I had about his request, Madam.” Charity’s ears coloured slightly as she spoke. Severus knew that to be a sign she was lying from the hours of poker they had played her first year as a professor.

“I will, of course, fill out any questionnaires you might have for your official documentation.” Severs supplied, his voice smooth and stress-free, no matter the roiling uncertainty he felt at the moment.

Madam Bones pulled out a sheaf of papers from a case she carried, holding them out to Severus, “I will expect these by tomorrow afternoon. You may deliver them by owl, if your duties here do not allow you to come to the Ministry. As head of this new venture, I’m sure you know that I am ultimately the last word on young Potter’s placement.”

She rose, as did Charity, “Mr Snape, thank you for your time. We have another appointment to get to. “

He escorted the two women out. Once done, Severus sank into a chair, his knees suddenly weak.

What had he agreed to do?

***

They’d fought all day over the issue of Andy’s nephew. It had been a both alternately cold and heated row. It was worse than the one they’d had over Ted’s support of Dora’s chosen profession. It was worse than the row they’d had their first year of marriage when Ted had stupidly said his mother’s cookery was much better than Andy’s. He hadn’t been sure at the time that they would survive as a couple as she flicked and swished all of his clothes out of closets and drawers, down the hall, and onto the outside entryway of their first flat in Diagon Alley.

He never once forgot that she was women’s duelling champion of their year and Bellatrix Black’s sister.

Ted had retreated to the bed, pointedly ignoring his wife who lay stiffly at his side. He was definitely not hiding from her behind the thick book of Mediaeval battle tactics and heraldry that his father had given him on one of his birthdays years and years ago. It had sat in the lounge drawing dust until this afternoon when Ted seized upon it for just this purpose.

It was an interesting book, if one liked reading about ancient battles and the flags the participants flew, and generally, Ted was not one of those so inclined. He turned a page, and Andy let out a soft sigh. He wouldn’t glance her way, that would be either a start to new hostilities, or a sign of his surrender. He hated to fight, most especially with her.

After a time and another page turn, and two more sighs, Andromeda said, “I’ve thought about what you said.


“Oh?” Ted let his eyes slip from the page and onto hers for a full moment

She turned her face away from him and sighed again. “Yes. I did listen to you, Dear and I hate to fight as much as you do. You know that.”


Ted let the book fall face up to his lap. “I know, Andy.”

“After tea, when I had some time to think, because you shut yourself in the shed with your bits of wood,” she said. “I came to realise that no matter who the boy’s parents were, he was in need of some comfort.”


Ted knew better than to prod her, so he waited with his hands folded over the small paunch that had grown over last winter. Andy turned her face to his “We can put our names in for my nephew..”

Ted couldn’t contain his smile. He knew she would come around eventually. His elation almost made him miss her last words. “As long as you take the position offered at Hogwarts.”

Well, fuck.

Andromeda straightened Ted’s tie as they waited for the lift in the Ministry Lobby. They had already jumped through a not insignificant amount of hoops to get to the point where they were now. They had filled out the paperwork with extremely intrusive questions, they had let Charity Burbage and the worker she was training into their home, and now they were here, summoned by owl, to see if they had been approved to be her nephew’s guardian.

The process, from start to finish, had taken four days.

Andromeda fussed with the jaunty little cap she’d donned this morning. She didn’t know why she bothered. She wasn’t going to impress the boy if they were here to pick him up. He would be the proper little pureblood automaton that his parents raised. He wouldn’t appreciate any of the work they had put in to house him, nor would he be content in their small cottage.

She had been to Malfoy Manor as a teen. She remembered just how opulent and grand it was. Their little cottage set outside a small wooded area, the practical rooms, and the little garden she kept, would seem mean compared to what he was used to.

She almost wished she hadn’t said they would do this. Ted just didn’t know how hateful these people could be. She had always protected him from them.

“It’ll be alright, Dear.” Ted said as he clasped her hand. The doors to the lift whisked open, spilling out Ministry workers and visitors. Once the human tide had stopped, they entered the cubicle. Ted pressed the floor that led to Magical Law Enforcement, and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.

They presented themselves at the office of Family and Children, and were escorted into Charity Burbage's office. Once pleasantries were exchanged, they all sat. "Mr and Mrs Tonks, thank you for coming in today, " Miss Burbage smiled, " there are a few formalities to deal with, but I'm pleased to tell you that you've been approved as temporary legal guardians of Draco Malfoy."

Andromeda looked over at her husband, who looked extraordinarily pleased at the news. She knew he loved their daughter beyond measure, but...they had meant to have more children, and she knew he'd wanted a son, even though he'd never said it aloud. He’d had a close relationship ith his own father, and although he and Nym were very close, she knew he wished for a son. This was the nearest they were going to come, she supposed, at least until Nym married and maybe gave them a grandson. If she even did, given her chosen profession. Andromeda put on her warmest smile and reached for Ted's hand, determined to make the best of this. "We're so happy to hear this, Miss Burbage, she said, "we're looking forward to getting to know our nephew better."

Miss Burbage smiled widely, picked up several pieces of parchment and said," There are a few things to go over first, and your signatures will be required. This.." She handed them one of the pieces of parchment, "Outlines the expectations of you both, as guardians. Please read through it. You'll both need to sign at the bottom. This is a magically binding contract, violation of which will carry penalties which may include a sentence to Azkaban, depending on the severity of the violation." She smiled benignly and added, " no offence intended, of course, but precautionary measures must be taken in regard to the health, well-being, and safety of all minor children."

"Of course, " Andromeda and Ted murmured in unison.

"This," Miss Burbage continued, passing another piece of parchment to them, "outlines the compensation you will receive for taking your nephew in, housing, feeding, clothing him, purchasing school supplies and the like. All families who take in children receive compensation for expenditures toward said child. You will sign the bottom indicating you've read and understood the document."

Another piece of parchment, and Miss Burbage said, "Lastly, this document concerns non-disclosure. What that means is that you agree to never discuss, should the occasion arise, anything pertaining to Draco, with reporters and the like. As a minor child, his right to privacy must be strictly observed. Unfortunately, due to his parents' social standing, their arrests have generated quite the scandal, and this must in no way involve Draco."

"Of course not" Ted answered for both of them, Andromeda nodding her agreement.

Miss Burbage smiled and said, "Very well. Please take your time reading through the documents, feel free to ask any questions, and then sign at the bottom when you're satisfied you understand and agree."

Miss Burbage sat back and allowed them time to peruse each document, and then they both signed the bottoms with the quill and ink she provided.

"Now then," Miss Burbage said, "I will inform Draco he is to be placed with you, help him pack his things, and bring him to you this afternoon. May I suggest tea time? That way we can ease him into his new situation. I will, of course, stay a bit to smooth the way, and then you'll begin your life with Draco after I depart. Is this agreeable to you both?"

Andromeda and Ted exchanged a smile and Andromeda said, "Yes, we think that will work out just fine."

"Excellent," Miss Burbage said."Then, shall we say about 2 pm?"

"We're looking forward to it," Andromeda said.

They made their goodbyes and exited the Family and Children wing, returning to the Ministry Lobby. Andromeda, who had been silent until then, turned and put her hand on her husband's arm. "Ted, you go ahead home. I've just remembered a small errand I must run. I won't be long."

"Alright, Dear," he replied, leaning forward to brush her cheek. "I'll roust Dora out and make sure she's presentable."

Andromeda laughed and said, "Good luck there."

She watched him disappear into the floo, and then turned back toward the lifts. The holding cells were on the level of the courtrooms, in the bottom levels of the Ministry according to the very large directory near the lifts. Andromeda felt a flutter of anticipatory dread as she pushed the floor number. She didn’t want to admit why she was making this trip. Cissy had been lost to her for thirty years.

The lift stopped several times before reaching the level she had pushed and she excused herself as she threaded through the crowded car. She consulted the directory once more and took off in the opposite direction of the courtrooms.

She waited at the elevated desk for the duty Auror to notice her. She felt small as she peered up at the young man in the smart red robes. He wrote something for a few moments and then looked up, his gaze assessing as he asked, “Here to see a prisoner?”

“Yes.” Andy answered, clutching her handbag tightly with her fingers. Tension arced through her as she thought of why she was there.

Taking up his quill and pulling a large book from under the desk. He flipped through pages and pages, stopping near the back of the book with a small grunt. “Name?”

“Andromeda Tonks.”

“No.” He huffed in exasperation. “Prisoner’s name?”

Andy was normally not given to nervous outbursts, but an involuntary nervous laugh escaped her as she answered. “Oh, right. Narcissa Malfoy., please.”

The Auror tsked quietly and flipped back a page in the book. He muttered as he ran a finger down the page, “Malfoy, Narcissa, prisoner 185701. Yes. She has been cleared for visitors. You will need to surrender your wand and bag now, Madam Tonks.”

Andy slid it out of her handbag, not relishing the idea of being without it, but handed it to the man, then gave him her purse. He produced a slip of paper that appeared out of the air after he vanished her items. In a bored tone he said, ”You’ll need that paper to claim your effects after your visit. There will be no physical contact. Wandless magic is not allowed. Any and all packages that you may have for the prisoner must be left here. The prisoner will get their package after it has been checked for contraband. Wait behind that line over there. An officer will be out to escort you to a visiting area. You will have ten minutes with the prisoner. Don’t ask for more.”

She waited for the better part of an hour before a large wizard appeared from behind the bars of the holding cells. He was a portly man dressed in a black uniform with no robes, with shoes that were shined to a mirror polish, and a cudgel that hung at his side off a leather belt.

He opened the metal barred portal with an old-fashioned skeleton key that shimmered with magical spells that were woven into the metal itself. “Step through, Madam and hold your arms out.”

Andromeda did as she was told, waiting while he ran a wand around her body, pausing over her shin over an old break that had been repaired when she was a child. Once done, he stowed his wand once again in the holster attached to his wrist. “This way, Madam.”

He led her down a grim grey hallway composed of brick, painted over until the shape of the bricks themselves had softened and become obscured. They stopped at a darker grey door with riveted seams of sheet metal. “You will have ten minutes. If you feel the need to leave before that time, I will be just outside the door. I have to advise you that the room is equipped with recording spells. Any admissions by the prisoner or you can and will be used in the trial.”

“I understand.” Andromeda nodded as the nervousness that had been fluttering in her belly rose to her heart, which now pounded in her ears.

He opened the door and Andromeda went in.

Narcissa was seated at a small, roughly made, rectangular table. Her wrists were bound before her. She wore a rough muslin shift that was several sizes too big for her. Her platinum hair was slightly tangled at the ends and her delicate features were pinched in an expression of fear. She moved her gaze to Andromeda’s face and her features hardened to an obdurate version of hauteur. Andy knew that expression well. It had been taught to all of the Black sisters when they were facing an unpleasant situation.

Andromeda took the seat across from her without speaking. She waited for her sister to begin. After a few beats of her heart, Narcissa asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Madam Tonks?”

“I came to let you know that your son will be staying with my family until…well…” Andromeda faltered as she saw her sister’s carefully crafted mask slip at the mention of her son. Compassion for the mother that her sister was, made her ask, “How are you faring, Cissy?”

Narcissa lifted her chin and looked away.

"Yes, "Andromeda said, "I can't imagine this is easy on you. I know you're worried about your son, Cissy. Truth be told, I'm a bit worried myself. We were raised together, you and I, but we've walked different paths since then. Still, we are both mothers, with children we love more than anything. Ted isn't Lucius, but he's a good man, Narcissa. I know you don't believe that, I know you think he's somehow less because he's Muggleborn. He may not espouse the pureblood beliefs your husband does, but there are some things that transcend blood status. Things like morality, a pure heart, a sense of wrong and right, a genuine caring for other people."

She stopped and looked at her proud and haughty sister. They had been close once, when they were young. They'd shared a love of art, of creating, something that was just theirs. Then somewhere along the way, their parents, and particularly Bella's ranting, had turned Cissy away, filled her head with nonsense, turned her into this cold, icicle of a woman before her.
But Andromeda was sure that Narcissa loved her son, her expression when she had first mentioned him confirmed it, so she pressed on.

"He'll be safe with us, Cissy," she assured her sister, "even at school. Dumbledore has offered Ted the Muggle Studies professor position, and he's accepted, so we'll be able to keep watch over Draco at school as well. I think you know as well as I do how his fellow Slytherins will be treating him, as a pariah. Their parents will warn them away from him, saying he can't be trusted, but we'll be there for him. Don't worry."

"S- Severus Snape," Narcissa said faintly "he..well, he's always looked out for Dr-Draco.."

Andromeda nodded and said "We'll have a word with him. He was my daughter's Potions Professor. We've met him briefly before. Nym is an Auror in training, she'll also keep Draco safe." Narcissa finally turned to look at her again though she didn't speak. Andromeda, seeing a wave of unspoken emotion in her sister's blue eyes, reached out to grasp her hand, but quickly pulled back, remembering the no contact rule.

"Cissy," she said kindly, "no matter what distance the years and our choices have put between us, you are, and always will be, my sister. I would never harm your child, my nephew. I promise you, he will be safe and cared for while he is with us."

Andromeda watched her sister bite her bottom lip, a childhood habit to keep it from quivering, a sign of weakness Bella would pounce on every time.

Cissy took a deep breath and said in a raspy voice full of the tears she would not let fall, "Be..be patient with him. D-don't be too...hard on him. He can be....belligerent..at times, he..."

Andromeda nodded her head, understanding what her sister was getting at.

"Ted is the most patient, kindest man on earth," she said quietly, locking her brown eyes with her sister's blue, "he has a way with children. He and our Nym are very close."

She watched the look of relief come up in Cissy's eyes and knew she understood. They sat there looking at one another for a few minutes until the guard entered to say time was up. Andromeda stood, looking down at her sister who suddenly seemed very small again.

"They're bringing him to our home this afternoon. I'll give him your love." She watched Narcissa bite her lip again as she nodded.

Andromeda turned to go, and was nearly out the door when she heard Cissy say quietly, "Thank you, Andy."

***

Draco and Harry were again sat across the chessboard from one another, locked in fierce battle for the game. Draco was winning, a fact he was happy with since Potty had proved to be a better player than anticipated, surprisingly. There was no way the bespectacled boy could beat him this time, and Draco gloated silently as Potter made his final reluctant move, allowing Draco to exclaim with a laugh, "Checkmate!"

"Yeah, alright," Potter muttered, adding in a bored tone, "Go again?"

"While winning has its merits, Potter, especially over you....no."

"Good," Potter replied, obviously relieved. "This is kind of boring."

Draco agreed, and they packed away the set. He assumed his seat again "Now what?"

"Good question, " Potter replied, resting his chin on his folded arms. "I don't think they thought this through."

"What do you usually do during summer hols?" Draco asked.

"Go to the Weasleys', play Quidditch with Ron and his brothers, just...stuff. What do you do?" Potter picked at a small hole in the knee of his trousers.

"Travel, sometimes to the seaside, sometimes France," Draco shrugged, "if we stay home, sometimes I take lessons..."

"Lessons?" Potter said with a snort.

"Yes, lessons," Draco said, " fencing, archery. It never hurts to broaden your mind, Potter, and fencing is a form of duelling. Both fencing and archery are sports, there are other forms of sport besides Quidditch, you know. Sometimes Father has business, so Mother and I visit museums. Art is one thing Muggles do well. The pictures don't move, but there's still technique, the use of light and dark, different schools of style. It's quite interesting, and some are truly beautiful. You should try it sometime. Didn't your relatives ever take you to museums?"

Potter snorted again and said, "As if."

Draco wasn't sure what exactly Potter meant by that, but offered, "Well, you'll be going to Egypt with the Weasleys. Perhaps you'll get to see some Egyptian art while you're there. Art isn't just paintings, and Egypt is full of antiquities..."

He was interrupted by the entrance of Professor Burbage, an annoyingly cheerful smile in place as she approached them.

"Boys," she greeted them. "Draco, I have some good news."

"My parents are coming!" he said, unable to contain his excitement. He rose from his chair and said, "I'll just get my things. When will they arrive?"

"No, Draco,...please, sit down," Professor Burbage said, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder. Her cheery smile was gone, replaced with a slightly worried expression, and Draco sat again, frowning.

"What other good news could there possibly be, Professor?" he asked grimly.

"Your parents' trial has yet to be set, Draco," she said, her voice kind. "But for the meantime, you'll be going to stay with your aunt and uncle..."

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco noticed Potter's head suddenly snap up, but ignored him, saying coldly to Burbage, "My aunt and uncle are currently guests of Azkaban, Professor. I have no other. Father is an only child..."

"Draco, " Professor Burbage said, her voice holding a bit of a pitying quality he didn't like."You know your mother has another sister…"

"No!" Draco exclaimed angrily. "No! Mother doesn't speak to her sister, I don't know them! They aren't...no! My parents won't agree to this! It's outrageous!"

"Draco," Burbage said, her voice now firm, no nonsense. ”You will go. I'm afraid you have no choice. Mr and Mrs Tonks applied, have been investigated, and approved by the department. There were no other applicants, but it's always better to be placed with family."

"They're not my family!" Draco shouted, "I won't go!"

"Draco, please be reasonable," Burbage said, "it's for the best. You can't stay here forever."

"It won't be forever! Don't you understand? This has all been a huge mistake, a misunderstanding, and once my father explains it to your thick-headed boss, they'll be released! Why don't you understand that?! I'd rather stay here until it's done! My father knows Fudge, it can't be more than a few days until whatever mix up these Ministry drones have made is resolved! I'll stay here, with Potter. We're fine right here!"

"Draco," Burbage said, taking a deep breath, "I know that you're not happy, and that you would rather be home with your parents, that's perfectly understandable. However, at this time, it's simply not possible, and like it or not, you must accept that. Mr and Mrs Tonks applied to have you, Draco, they want you with them, because they care about you and can keep you safe and looked after. Now…"

"I won't go," Draco said flatly, his voice belligerent as he crossed his arms over his chest imperiously. "I refuse to."

"Draco," she replied in like, "you cannot stay here. Harry won't be here much longer himself. It is the objective of the Department to find suitable homes as quickly as possible, and one has been found for you. Now, you are to pack your things and be ready in half an hour, when I will return, and take you to your aunt's home." She hesitated a moment, then added, "I can have Aurors accompany us if necessary. Will that be necessary?"

Draco bit his bottom lip to keep it from quivering, and braced himself against the tears that wanted to fall. This wasn't fair. Why was he being punished when he'd done nothing wrong? He took a deep breath to try and calm the storm of emotions stampeding through him. Anger, desperation, fear all coursed through him and he felt trapped. Cornered. Hopeless.

He took a quick glance at Potter, expecting to see that smug smirk, humiliating on top of everything else, but Potter wasn't looking at him at all. His head was bowed, and he appeared to be deeply interested in his fidgeting fingers.

Another deep breath, and Draco looked back at Burbage, who was watching him expectantly. He could see no way out. He could go quietly, or be dragged out by Aurors, the way he'd been dragged in. He didn't want to go to his blood traitor aunt and her mudblood husband's hovel at all, but he absolutely didn't want to humiliate himself and his name by being dragged there by Aurors kicking, and screaming like some feral animal.

He was a Malfoy. Mother and Father would be counting on him to behave like one, especially now.

Trapped, he was trapped, and all he could do until he could think of a plan, was to acquiesce and try to keep some shred of dignity. He swallowed hard, steeling himself, and croaked out, "No, it won't be necessary."

"Very well," Burbage said in a relieved voice. "I'll leave you to gather your things, and return in thirty minutes. Your wand and broom will be returned to you when we arrive at your aunt's home."

She glanced at Potter, still fidgeting, and took her leave. Draco huffed out a breath and then turned toward the dorm to make ready. He was pulling his trunk out from under his bed when Potter appeared and asked, "Need any help?"

Draco paused in what he was doing, too defeated to snark or snap.

"No....thanks, " he said dully.

Potter sat on his own bed, and Draco returned to placing his things carefully in his trunk. He could feel the other boy's eyes boring into the back of his head, and knew he wanted to say something. Unable to stand it any longer, he said over his shoulder. "Spit it out, Potter. I know you're dying to tell me how you enjoyed my little show out there."

His heart wasn't in it however, and he could hear it in his own voice. "Why don't you want to go to your aunt's house? How bad can it be? It's your mum's sister. Isn't your family filthy rich on both sides? You can go back to having your breakfast served to you by elves. Go back to your fencing lessons and museum visits."

" No, I can't, " Draco ground out, "they aren't like us."

"You mean....she's...a squib? No magic?" Potter asked incredulously.

How dare he? Draco thought furiously. He slammed his trunk lid shut and turned on the other boy. "Of course she's not a squib! How dare you imply that there are squibs in my lineage! I told you not to speak of my mother in any form! The idea of a squib in the Black family! Don't be preposterous, Potter!"

"Alright! Alright!," Potter said, holding his hands palms up, "Sorry! I didn't mean to offend your pureblood sensibilities! Excuse my half-blood ignorance!"

Draco gave him a final glare and turned back to his trunk, opening the lid and gathering his toiletries from his nightstand.

"So...if she's a pureblood like your mum, what's the problem?" Potter asked his voice, taking on the tone of a solicitor in a high profile case. “Why doesn't your mum speak to her own sister?"

Draco stood staring down into his trunk, seething. Why couldn't Potter just mind his own business and let it go? Draco knew, had the circumstances been reversed, he himself would be dying of curiosity, but it still angered him. He didn't want to answer, because he didn't want to hear anymore of Potter's taunting of his upbringing, but he knew he wouldn't let it go either.

His still churning emotions got the best of him however, and he turned again to the other boy and said nastily, "Because she's a blood traitor, Potter. She besmirched the Black family name by marrying a muggleborn and tainted the line. Are you happy now? Hear what you wanted to hear? Go on, have your go at me. You'll never understand why blood status is important. Not when your pet weasel takes pride in being a blood traitor. Not when your own mother was a muggleborn. You don't understand how not keeping our lines pure is slowly eroding our magic. How it's a pox on our world and way of life. How if it isn't stopped our world, the wizarding world, will eventually disappear. You don't understand any of this because you don't have parents to teach you, or a family name to be proud of. Your father married a muggleborn, and that makes him a blood traitor as well, and that makes your mother's sacrifice pointless, although it did rid our world of a little more bad blood."

Draco fully expected Potter to lunge at him, after all, he'd just insulted his dead parents, and braced himself for the blows. He wasn't sure Potter wouldn't beat him at fisticuffs, but Draco was willing to let him try. It would feel good to hit something right now, his anger told him.

But the expected punches didn't come. In fact, Potter didn't seem to react much at all, except to look at him with a frown.

"What's the matter, Potter?" Draco goaded, "too stupid to figure out you've just been insulted? Want me to spell it out for you? "

"No, " the other boy said eventually, "I just feel really bad for you that you actually believe all that pureblood stuff. You're not just parroting your father, you actually believe it, and...you're proud of it."


"Of course I'm proud of my family, you idiot!" Draco sputtered, "you'd understand that if you had one!"

"It's funny that you think wizards have nothing in common with Muggles,' Potter said wryly. "Because you sound just like my aunt and uncle. Only, they hate magic. They hate wizards with magic for all the same reasons you hate Muggles with no magic. My aunt thinks my mother being a witch tainted their family, that they were perfectly normal til she came along. It's so ironic it's almost funny."

It was pointless, Draco thought, Potter would never get it. The real irony here was that someone like him was supposed to be the wizarding world's saviour. It took some of the wind out of Draco's sails, and he felt more defeated than ever. He just wanted to go home. Back to the Manor, with his parents, where his own world would be right again.

"I was wrong, Potter," he said, turning back to latch his trunk. "There is no hope for you. You're going to the Weasley's, may as well be back with your aunt and uncle for all the good it'll do you. I'd hardly call them a ‘proper’ wizarding family."

"I think I'll manage," Potter said. "You worry about yourself, yeah? And who knows, you might get lucky. Maybe your muggleborn uncle will either set you straight, or get so sick of your pureblood bullshit he kicks you back here after all."

"I'm counting on it," Draco muttered to himself, but Potter heard.

"You know Malfoy," he said. "There's a muggle saying. Pride goeth before the fall. Hope you survive it. It's going to be a nasty tumble."

Draco ignored that and picked up his trunk, heading out to the common area, where Professor Burbage was waiting, cheery smile in place.

"Ready?" she asked. Draco nodded and faced Potter, who'd followed him out.

"Don't run afoul of the pharaohs, Potter." Draco said as he followed Miss Burbage through the outer door.

The other boy smiled and shook his head. "See you on the Quidditch pitch, Malfoy," he said, as Draco followed Burbage out.

Draco and Professor Burbage arrived at the cottage by side along apparition, landing in a large garden, redolent with the heady smell of sweet flowers and acrid herbs. Draco hastily let go of the Professor's arm and looked around.

It was nothing at all like the large formal gardens of the Manor, with its fountains and peacocks and carefully manicured beds of roses. Nor was it like the kitchen gardens that the elves maintained with neatly ordered vegetables beside medicinal and cooking herbs, labelled and perfectly tended. No, this garden was a riot of many different garishly coloured flowers and randomly scattered herb beds. Chickens ran amuck in the foliage, scratching for insects, pecking at fruits and vegetables, a small tumult in the sea of chaos. There were two outbuildings that, while well-maintained, were almost slapdash in their appearance. Beyond all that a brick pathway leading up to an ivy covered cottage, its thatched roof somehow grounding the airy appearance of the structure it covered.

Professor Burbage looked at Draco and said, "It's beautiful, isn't it? I think you'll come to be happy here. Your aunt and uncle are very nice people, Draco. Please give them a chance."

Clearly, the woman's idea of "beautiful" was vastly different to Draco's, so he held his tongue and simply nodded, following her up the path to the house. As they approached, the door opened, and a man and woman stepped out. Draco stopped in surprise, blinking at the woman, Aunt Andromeda, who held a startling resemblance to the portraits he'd seen of Aunt Bellatrix.

She was wearing a smile that he was sure she meant to be kind and welcoming , which faltered a bit as she gazed at Draco. The man, his ‘Uncle’, Ted, the muggleborn, was tall and thin, with a slight paunch and receding, blonde hair. He was also smiling, the sort of cheery smile Professor Burbage wore, and holding out his hand, he said heartily. "There he is! Welcome, Draco! I'm your uncle, Ted Tonks."

Draco tensed slightly, glancing at his aunt and Professor Burbage, and stiffly reached forward to briefly shake the man's hand.

"Sir", he said faintly, pulling his hand back, just managing to forego wiping his hand clean. Aunt Andromeda stepped toward him, her hands folded primly in front of her, reminiscent of how Mother held hers, and gazed at Draco a moment, almost as if she were studying him. He swallowed hard, her scrutiny making him nervous, and he forced himself not to flinch away.

"You resemble your father," she said quietly. "But I can see my sister in you too. I'm your Aunt Andromeda, Draco. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

She was soft spoken, like Mother, and her voice made Draco miss her very much.

"Aunt Andromeda," he said, sketching a small bow to her, out of respect for Mother. He knew that she would expect that of him, regardless of whether or not they were speaking.

"Come in," she said, gesturing toward the open door. "We’ll have tea, and chat a bit."

His aunt and uncle lead the way, with Professor Burbage bringing up the rear. They all trooped in through a small entryway, levitating his belongings inside with a flick of her wand. They entered directly into what might pass for a parlour, where another surprise awaited Draco, in the form of the girl Auror who had witnessed his embarrassing intake at the Ministry. She had one leg sprawled out before her and the other hiked into the chair with her chin resting on her knee.

"You!" he blurted out before he could stop himself, making the adults frown, and the crup that sat at her feet bark.

"Oi, stuff it, you bloody mongrel," she told the crup with an affectionate scratch to its head. "His name’s Big Tony, cousin. Don't worry, barks worse 'n his bite."

"Draco, this is our daughter, Nymphadora, your cousin," Aunt Andromeda said as she pushed against the girl’s leg with an irate glare at her. "She's an Auror in training."

"Call me Nymphadora and see what happens," his cousin, the Auror, said cheerily. She was smiling, but Draco heard the threat.

"Have a seat, Draco," his uncle said gesturing to a cloth covered sofa with a garish, multicoloured blanket made of yarn draped over the back. Draco was loath to sit there, he was sure they let the crup lounge there. Gingerly he sat on the edge, his posture straight, his hands clasped. Professor Burbage took a seat next to him. Aunt Andromeda spelled a tea tray to the table in front of the sofa.
No house elves here, Draco thought despairingly, as she began pouring, asking Draco how he took his tea.

“Black is fine.” His aunt poured for him into a china cup that had obviously seen better days. He accepted it with a murmured thanks, not really hoping that the tea would be more than swill. He waited until all were served to take a tiny sip. It was better than he expected, fragrant with notes of floral that didn’t overtake the woodsier notes, but not up to Malfoy standards, obviously. She offered him a plate filled with unfamiliar biscuits. They were perfectly round, and obviously made by machine. He demurred. He would not be eating those Muggle atrocities, no matter how nice they smelled.

Conversation around him was stilted with his uncle alternately jouncing his knee and stirring his overly sweetened drink. The Auror–he refused to admit that creature was related to him–resumed her laconic pose and fussed with the dog whilst shooting speaking glares at Draco.

Just when Draco thought he could bear no more tension, Miss Burbage said, “Oh, look at the time! I must be going. Why don’t you show Draco his room, Mr Tonks, while I go over some final details with your wife and daughter.”

Draco nearly apparated to his feet. Not that he wanted to be anywhere near the vicinity of his aunt’s husband, but would bear anything to escape the tension.

The man took him through a neatly kept kitchen that had a window over the sink and a view to the rest of the garden. With just a glance, Draco could identify several plants that were used in potions production. They passed under a heavily beamed lintel into a small hallway, the ceiling so low that his uncle’s head nearly brushed it. Off to one side Draco could see a sitting room that looked even more worn than the parlour. The furniture was seemingly well-made, but obviously Muggle in design. It reminded him of the time his parents took him to Sweden and they’d had to stay in a Muggle hotel because the area had no wizarding accommodations.

His uncle turned to a set of ancient, worn stairs that led above. He motioned for Draco to follow him. “Let’s get you settled. I’ll bring up your things, and once you stow them, you can spend your evening as you wish until dinner.”

Draco nodded, not quite trusting his ability to answer neutrally. He did not want to be here. He wanted to be at home where things weren’t new and surprising. He wanted a house elf to put away his things, to bring him properly made tea and cakes. He wanted Mother and Father and not these people who he didn’t care to know, no matter how nice they were initially.

They came to a room at the end of a dimly lit hallway. The door was scarred from age, made of dark wood that had a sheen of some type of polish or lacquer. His uncle opened it, revealing a cramped room that seemed to be stuffed with a smallish bed and a desk.

“This is your room. I know it’s a little cramped, but I hope you can make it homey.” He laughed, a brittle sound that grated on Draco’s already taut nerves.

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Draco answered with a tight smile. This was only going to be temporary. His parents would be able to retrieve him once the Ministry realised their mistake.

“Okay, well I’ll leave you to it then,” his uncle said. “I’ll just go fetch your things.”

Draco waited for the man’s footfalls to recede before he sank to the bed and covered his eyes. Malfoys did not cry. He would not cry.

He hated it here.

It had been a week since Malfoy left and Harry still languished in the, for lack of a better word, orphanage. He’d seen the arrival of two more children, a brother and sister much younger than he was. The boy, incongruously named Hephaestus, was shy and withdrawn, obviously beaten down by whatever bad situation he had come from. He was a squib, or at least his people had suspected it, Harry thought.

The girl, Clover, she made him anxious with her precociousness about matters of sex. He remembered hearing, on one of those lurid talk shows Aunt Petunia liked to watch, that type of behaviour usually meant the child had been interfered with in a bad way. Harry didn’t want to think too much about it. He just tried to not be alone with her. He didn’t want to encourage her at all, nor did he want to be accused of anything. He could honestly say he felt sorrier for her, even though she had several outbursts of magic. He hoped she got the help she needed.

Harry had found a few things to do. He regularly helped the nursery attendant with the small baby that had been brought in just after he arrived. He didn’t know what the hold up was for someone taking her in. It did make him feel better that he wasn’t the only one here with a long stay. Maybe Malfoy had been easier to place because he had a living family. Harry didn’t know. He only wanted the Weasleys to hurry up and jump through the hoops, so he could spend the rest of his summer hols preferably outside, and even more preferably flying.

He never thought that he’d miss slaving away in his aunt’s garden, but he did.

The little boy had taken to following Harry about, never too closely. He never spoke to Harry, but did give him a shy smile when Harry would fetch him and the little girl to play. He found he enjoyed the times that they tossed a small ball, or played tag. He’d never really been able to do all that when he was younger. Children his age were chased off by Dudley or put off by Harry’s strangeness.

They were in the middle of a rowdy game, where the general shrieks of laughter from both Harry and Clover drowned out the sound of music that played over the newly installed wireless when Professor Burbage entered. Harry and the boy stopped in their tracks. Clover, who was ‘It,’ didn’t notice and grabbed Harry around his midriff from behind. She giggled as she said, “You’re it now, Harry!”

Harry coloured as he extricated himself gently from Clover’s hold. He said, “Hullo, Professor.”

“Harry, I told you that I’m Charity outside of Hogwarts.”

Harry felt his colour deepen. He was such a knob for the little flutter he felt every time he saw her. It was stupid to have a crush on an adult, no matter kind and pretty they were. Nonetheless, he relished the feel of her name in his mouth as he said, “Sorry, Charity.”

“No need to feel sorry,” she said, her pretty lips formed that soft bow of a smile as she greeted the other children. “Clover, I’m glad to see you’re fitting in. And Hephaestus, I hear what a good boy you’re being for Nurse and for Harry.”

The boy took a step behind Harry, his thumb in his mouth. Harry knew he was too old for things like that, he had to be at least six, but the older boy didn’t know how to break him of it kindly. He wouldn’t want the boy to be teased for doing something so babyish. Not that it was really his duty to do it, but Harry knew what it was like to cling to something he should have outgrown to help cope with a harsh home life, only to be ridiculed for it outside that home.

Charity interrupted Harry’s thoughts as she said, “I’d like a word with you, Harry, if you don’t mind?”

Harry nodded and followed her to a room that he had discovered on his fourth day without Malfoy around. It was a room with a squashy flowered couch, a nice fat chair with the same type of fabric on it. There was a desk and chair near a bookshelf with bric-a-brac and books that were obviously Muggle titles concerning social work and psychology.

Charity took a seat in the chair and so Harry sat across from her on the couch. “I’m here to tell you that you will probably be going to your new guardian in the next few days. We’ve had quite a few requests for you, as I’m sure you suspected, and we’ve narrowed it down to one applicant. They will complete their final interview with Madam Bones this afternoon, and you will likely be going to them sometime this evening.”

Harry felt the tension he had been holding in his shoulders since he had first come to the Ministry ease just a little bit. “I’m so glad. I-I… hope that I won’t be a burden on them.”

“You aren’t a burden, Harry.” Charity stretched out her hand, it hovered over his, that he held tightly clasped over his knee. She withdrew it without contact, knowing Harry didn’t really like to be touched much.

He sighed. “May I ask what family I’ll be with?”

“Oh, I can’t tell you at this point. I want everything to be approved first.” Charity said. “I just wanted to let you know that I hadn’t forgotten you. I can imagine how hard it must be to have everything up in the air like it is.”

“Okay.” Harry tried not to let his frustration show in his voice. He would know soon enough if the Weasley’s were approved, but he couldn’t imagine why they wouldn’t be. They were a great family and had practically adopted him anyway. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“It’s the least I could do for you, Harry.” She smiled and then rose. “Now, I believe you have a game to finish and you’re ‘It,’ from what Clover said.”

“Erm…yeah.” Harry said, rubbing his neck in consternation. He was definitely an idiot for mooning over Charity. He followed her out of the room and resumed entertaining the two children. In a strange way he thought he might miss them when he left.

***

Severus exited the Ministry lift and strode toward Amelia Bones' office, trying to keep the scowl from his face. He'd been summoned, ordered, really, in what was undoubtedly yet another hoop to jump through in the acquisition of Potter. Apparently Charity Burbage and Minerva's recommendations and approval weren't enough for the esteemed Madame Bones; she felt the need to put him under her monocle to scrutinise like some sort of specimen.

He paused outside the outer door and pulled his face into a neutral expression, then stepped inside.

"Ah, Professor Snape, " the receptionist said. Stebbins, he recalled her name, as atrocious at potions as the rest of her fecund clan. They seemed to have made it their mission in life to give the Weasleys a run for their money.

"Miss Stebbins," he acknowledged, "good to know you're gainfully employed. I had my doubts, given your potions scores."

She just laughed, as vapid as ever, and said "Madame Bones is expecting you, Sir."

She got up and opened the door to the inner office, announcing, "Professor Snape, Madam."

Madam Bones stood, motioned Severus to the chair in front of her desk, and said,"Professor Snape. Please take a seat"

After they'd settled themselves, she cut straight to the chase, an admirable quality, Severus thought. He hated chit chat and pointless blathering.

"I've asked you here because I have some concerns regarding your application for guardianship of Harry Potter," she began, "I must say, your application was the most surprising of the many we received. I won't mince words, Professor, I suspect Albus Dumbledore’s hand in this. Charity Burbage has confided in me about the circumstances surrounding your former associations, as well as your defection to the other side. You'll understand my concerns.”

"Indeed, Madam Bones, I do understand your concern. However, you are well aware that I was cleared of all charges relating to my former associations, and have, shall we say...come to see the light. It is my understanding that the boy was removed from his aunt's home because of neglect and abuse, and that his relatives detested his magic. I knew Petunia Dursley in another life, and it is not a stretch then of the imagination that her nephew's best interests weren't her paramount concern."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "It is also my understanding that Albus Dumbledore, while providing the necessary protective charms and spells over the Dursley household, ensuring the boy's safety from outside forces, failed to provide protection from within the household. I think we are agreed, Madam, that the boy must be protected from all sides, including from Dumbledore himself."

He paused again, noting the woman's keen expression of interest. "Not only will I provide such protection, you will note that I am uniquely qualified to deal with the forces that may seek to harm the boy, precisely because of my former associations. As for the question of Albus Dumbledore's influence, I can assure you, Madam, you need not be concerned. When I decided to apply for guardianship of the boy, I extracted a wand vow from Dumbledore that I will tolerate no interference from him, that any issue arising that involves the boy in any way must go through me first, and meet my approval."

Madam Bones nodded, adjusted her monocle, and looking straight at Severus, said, "That is all very well, Professor Snape, and I do agree that you, along with some added protective charms and wards, are certainly capable of protecting the boy from any proposed harm from outside forces. But why do you think you, a single man, are in any way qualified to provide Mr Potter with a stable home and a caring environment, a home life, that will allow him to thrive?"

Inwardly, Severus grimaced. He knew this was bound to come up, but he was prepared. And if she still wasn't convinced, he had one last card up his sleeve that he was sure would sway her, although he hoped it wouldn't come to that. Steeling himself, he said, " I understand your concern, Madam. Yes, I am a single man, unmarried, no children of my own. However, as a teacher, I have years of experience dealing with children. As Head of House, I have experience dealing with any and all problems that a child may experience, and have always been able to resolve these issues, enabling the children under my care to trust that I am capable of helping them, of listening to their problems and concerns, of advocating for them should the need arise. Settling disputes, applying discipline as warranted, rewarding good behaviour, effort, and setting them on a path to a productive adult life by the time they leave my care.

In the case of Mr Potter, not only can I provide all the same, I can also provide a safe and comfortable home. I've already renovated my quarters to provide a comfortable environment, added a spacious bedroom with every amenity the boy could possibly want. I will also be able to personally oversee his academic career, his outside interests, and his social life. I can provide routine, which you will agree is important for a child, both inside and outside the classroom. Should there be any area or issue outside my capabilities, I assure you I have a strong and willing support system in Minerva McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey, to turn to."

She was frowning slightly, hesitating, he could see. He sighed inaudibly. He ground his teeth hoping she would not require his ultimate debasement, but when she remained impassively looking at him, he capitulated. He geared himself up to throw down his trump card.

"There is another thing I can provide for the boy," he said, trying to cage the pain that he felt at the very mention of the boy’s mother. He took a deep breath, gathered his Occlumency shields and said softly,," I can give him his mother. I knew her from before we both began at Hogwarts. She was…my best friend. We discovered magic together, shared everything. I can tell him of the girl she was, of her extraordinary kindness, her likes, what she found amusing, the things she was good at. I can make her come alive for him, make him know her through my eyes."

She was wavering, he could see it on her face, so he drove his point home.

"Nobody else can do that for him. There's nobody left." He hesitated only a moment then said, meeting her eyes for the first time since he had begun, "Surely, you do the same for your niece, Susan. Bring her parents alive for her?"

Her face turned to stone at that, and Severus wondered if he'd gone too far talking about her relationship with her own niece. She drew herself up, frowning hard around her monocle as she stared at Severus with flinty eyes. Her voice was brusque as she said, "Very well, Professor Snape. Before I give my seal of approval, I have one more requirement of you."

"And what might that be?" Severus inquired stoically.

"I require your word, in the form of an Unbreakable Vow, that you will protect Mr Potter at all costs. That while under your care, no harm will come to him. That the use of corporal punishment is forbidden. That you will provide a safe and happy home, free of neglect and abuse, including verbal."

"Define ’harm,’” Severus said through lips stiffened by controlled anger. "Children often consider discipline to be harmful. If I am not allowed to discipline the boy, what is to keep him from running wild, breaking rules. Doing whatever he chooses to do?"

"I think you know that we're not talking about ordinary discipline, Professor Snape," she said evenly. He matched her gaze. She was testing him, and he knew it. If he refused, she would question his loyalties, even though she had been at his trial and had herself voted to acquit him.

He would, therefore, call her bluff. "Very well, " he conceded, "I will agree to an Unbreakable Vow."

Her eyes narrowed and the very slightest of wry smiles twitched at her lips.

After several moments spent staring each other down, she said,"A wand vow will suffice. Upon completion, I will give my seal of approval, and Charity Burbage will arrange a time with you to deliver Mr Potter to your care."

"Thank you, Madam Bones," Severus said, letting a grateful tone he did not genuinely feel slip into his voice. He rose, as did she, and both produced their wands.

After completing the vow, he watched her apply her seal and sign the parchment giving final approval. She tapped it with her wand and it folded into an aeroplane shape then she sent the parchment off with a lazy wave of her hand.

"Miss Burbage will be in touch," she said, "Good day."

He nodded, adding “Thank you for your show of trust, Madam. Good day.”

He took his leave, dreading Potter’s reaction to the news of his guardianship.

***

Molly Weasley flooed into the Leaky Cauldron, her mind occupied with the things she needed to get in Diagon Alley for their trip to Egypt. She had, through careful planning, budgeted one new casual outfit for each of them, plus a few cautionary potions to take along just in case.

She brushed soot from herself and stepped out into the hustle and bustle of the Leaky. It was lunchtime, by the looks of it, but she'd eaten at home. She was, however, looking forward to a small treat for herself at Fortescues, with money she'd saved back from her household allowance. She set out, intent on the entrance to the Alley, when her eye caught Charity Burbage seated at a smaller table, eating a bowl of soup while she sifted through a stack of parchment set to the side.

Molly hesitated, considering.

Well, it couldn't hurt, could it? she told herself, deciding it couldn't, and approached the woman's table.

"Professor Burbage!" she greeted the woman, "I hope I'm not imposing, I was on my way to Diagon Alley, and wondered if I might have a word with you." The younger woman looked up, her face breaking into a friendly smile, and said, "Good afternoon, Mrs Weasley. Please, have a seat.”

Molly needed no further encouragement, and pulled out a chair, settling in and saying, "I won't keep you, Dear. I thought perhaps I might ask as to when we can expect to bring Harry home. You see, we're planning a trip to Egypt, and I'm about to do some shopping for the trip, including for Harry, of course."

She stopped as the other woman drew her wand and cast a quiet Muffliato spell.

"Oh, of course, it wouldn't do to let everyone know our business, would it?" She gave a small chuckle and added," I can't tell you how happy we are to have Harry with us permanently. Why, he's already like one of our own, and we're all looking forward to our new family member!"

The younger woman pushed her bowl aside, smiled kindly, and said, "Mrs Weasley. I'm afraid that the decision has been made to place Harry elsewhere. We feel.."

"What?" Molly yelped, shocked. "What do you mean, placed elsewhere? How can he be placed elsewhere? We're like family to him! I told you, he's already like one of our own! He's…"

"Mrs Weasley, I understand..." Professor Burbage began, but Molly was having none of it.

"No you most certainly don't!” she blurted out. "We're the only family that boy has ever known! You can't count his relatives as family when they treated him so abominably! You've taken him away from them after all! He's stayed with us over holidays and entire summers! He's happy with us! Who could possibly be better suited than us?"

The idea! Molly thought, her mind refusing to believe what she was hearing. There must be some mistake! How could her family not be approved? She sputtered, too fraught with disbelief to speak, " I...why, I just don't understand!"

"Mrs Weasley," Professor Burbage began again, " Harry is somewhat of a special case. He needs a level of protection that we at the FAC feel you are not able to provide. It isn't just a question of general safety with Harry. Should the worst happen, if He Who Must Not Be Named were to return, Harry, as well as your entire family would be in grave danger. There's also the question of his home life.”

Molly watched her twine the cloth napkin through her fingers nervously as she added, “Although your family and home are quite welcoming, you and Mr Weasley already have enough to be going on. You have five children still at home, four of them still in school. Your home is already packed to the rafters with your own children, each of whom require time and attention. There's the concern that Harry could be lost in the shuffle, so to speak. He's already been neglected most of his life, we feel he is in need of the attention of caring adults..."

She held her hand up to stay the objection Molly was about to burst" forth with, and Molly pursed her lips in outrage. "...Adults who can focus solely on him at this time."

Professor Burbage was looking at her with a sympathetic expression, but Molly was trying not to cry, and couldn't speak. "I know that you and your family love Harry and want him to be with you, and perhaps if Harry were any other boy than The Boy Who Lived, your home and family would be a good fit. But the fact remains, Mrs Weasley, Harry is, as I've said, a special case, and his safety and protection is our primary concern. Surely you would agree that should the unthinkable happen, you and your family are not in a position to deal with such dark forces. You cannot be expected to endanger your family like that."

"B-but....where is he to go then?" Molly stammered.

"I'm afraid I can't divulge that information, Mrs Weasley, ' the woman said kindly. "Rest assured that he will be safe and looked after properly."

"Yes, but...will..." Molly heaved a heavy breath, "...will they love him?"

"Mrs Weasley, " Professor Burbage said, reaching over and patting her hand, " I understand you're upset, but this is best for Harry. And it's not as if you'll never see him again! I know that he and your son Ronald are housemates and best friends. There's no reason to think that will change, or that Harry won’t still be allowed to visit. The only thing that will really change is that he won't be returning to his aunt and uncle's house. That's all."

Molly swallowed hard, and rallied somewhat. Even in her disappointment and sadness, she was still happy to hear Harry would never again be subjected to his relatives' neglect.

She would see him again, of course she would, and when he did come to visit, she would coddle him and feed him and mother him to her heart's content. Of course she would.

Taking a deep breath and composing herself– she had to get away from the woman before she lost control and truly caused a scene– Molly stood and said, "Thank you for your time, Professor Burbage."

"Good day, Mrs Weasley," the woman said kindly, and Molly hurried away. She headed for the floo, intent on getting home so she could cry her heart out in the privacy of her own bedroom while she figured out a way to break it to the family. Shopping could wait, her heart was breaking.

***

With a loud crack of apparition, Charity Burbage and a slightly disoriented Harry appeared at the gates of Hogwarts. Harry took a moment to get his bearings and went back to glowering at his companion.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" She smiled at him. He repaid her with a baleful glare.

She sighed and said,"Harry, I know you were counting on going to the Weasleys. And I know you're disappointed, but this really is for the best. Professor Snape can protect you in ways the Weasleys can't. "

"He can also torture me in ways they can't,” Harry snapped back. He didn't feel sorry for it either. She'd betrayed him, and he was taking it personally.

"Don't be silly, Harry," she said, crossing her arms as she did. "Of course he isn't going to torture you. We wouldn't have approved him if that were the case. You know, you haven't exactly been a model student for him, have you?"

Her tone was gentle, but Harry still felt a hot flush of anger shoot through his gut.

"This is revenge, isn't it?" Harry said sarcastically, "He's going to make me pay, isn't he? I'll bet the old bat is down in his dungeon right now planning out how."

"Harry,” she said again in the same gentle chiding tone as before. "Of course he isn't. Just give him a chance."

He silently watched her take out her wand and wave it at the gates in a complicated pattern. Slowly the gates swung open, and he grudgingly followed her inside, pausing while she waved her wand again to shut them just like Snape did with the shutters in his classroom. He guessed it must be a special spell only the teachers were privy to, most especially the evil ones.

As they started up the path toward the castle, Harry said, "If I'm to be at Hogwarts, why can't Dumbledore, or McGonagall, or...even Hagrid be my guardian? Nobody could get past Hagrid! He'd just toss them aside!"

"Harry,” she said, her tone still patient, however he thought he might have seen a bit of a frown at the beginning. It made him happy. "I've explained this to you. Professor Snape is the best protection for you..."

"But who's going to protect me from him?!" Harry fretted. He was aware of the whinging tone of his own voice, but he didn't care. He wondered if Dobby was still here. Maybe he could hide him til the adults came to their senses and sent him to the Weasleys where he belonged. With a quick bolt of relief, Harry thought, maybe the house elf could help him escape if things got too bad.

With a sense of glee he considered that he might even be able to trade places with Draco. That tosser would love to have Snape as his guardian. He already could do no wrong in Snape's eyes, arse kisser that he was.

He heaved a heavy sigh and said, "I can't believe Dumledore is allowing this."

"Professor Dumbledore has no say in this matter, Harry," Charity answered as they passed the greenhouses."This was a decision that was out of his hands."

She'd told him this before, but he still couldn't believe it. Wasn't Dumbledore Chief Something or other? Wasn't he all powerful?

"You know, Charity," Harry said with a small smile creeping onto his face. "Since you'll be here. I'm counting on you to save me from Snape."

She stopped before the great doors of the entrance, turned to him and said in that kind implaccable voice he'd come to realise meant doom. "Actually, Harry, I won't be. I'm on sabbatical for the coming school year. There will be a new Muggle Studies teacher taking my place."

"What?!" Harry burst out, "Oh, this just keeps getting better and better! You keep banging on about protection, but you're leaving me defenceless! This is just great! What am I supposed to do when he hexes me into oblivion?! He hates me!"

"Harry," she said, her voice edged with a strident tone. "You know perfectly well he cannot do such a thing. Do you really think I would allow you to be placed with someone who would? Do you really think I would approve someone like that?"

She smiled after a long moment of his mulish silence and said, " You really do have a flair for the dramatic, Harry. Too bad theatre isn't offered at Hogwarts. Now, we'll go up to Professor Dumbledore's office first. Madam Bones will be there, and there are a few small things to address before I take you to your new home."

"New home," Harry muttered. "More like a new prison." Charity gave him a quelling look and opened the door. They traversed the large entry hall and the staircases up to the Headmaster’s office in silence. Charity, Harry noticed, kept an eye on him. She obviously didn’t want him to do a runner, not that Harry could. Where would he go, anyway?

He trudged along behind her up to the Headmasters office, his stomach rolling with nerves as the spiral staircase took them upward.

Magically, the door swung open as they reached it, and Professor Dumbledore's voice boomed out "Do come in!”

It irked Harry to hear the cheery note in the old man's voice. As if this weren't the worst day of Harry's life. "Harry, my boy! A pleasure, as always! Charity."

Harry nodded, and eyed up the rather imposing looking woman, who lifted a monocle, screwing it firmly in front of her eye.

"Mr Potter," she said, "I am Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and currently Acting Head of the Department of Families and Children. I believe you know my niece, Susan."

Harry was nonplussed at this, and stood there for a moment, before remembering his manners, and spluttering out "Oh, Erm… pleased ...pleased to meet you, Madam."

"Mr Potter," the woman said, "Before Miss Burbage takes you to Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore is going to place a few protection spells on you. These are designed to keep you safe when you are off Hogwarts grounds."

"Off grounds?" Harry said doubtfully. The woman glanced at Dumbledore, then Charity, and said, "Yes, Mr Potter. Hogwarts is your home, it is not your prison. You will soon be beginning your third year. Third year students are allowed to visit Hogsmeade on weekends. I understand you are quite close with the Weasley family. Of course you may visit during school holidays. These spells will keep you safe while you do."

"Erm....okay," Harry said. He was a bit confused. Wasn't Snape supposed to be protecting him? His attention was drawn to Dumbledore, who stood from his seat behind his desk, cleared his throat and said to Madam Bones, "If I may?"

She nodded, and Dumbledore said, "Harry, when I placed you with your aunt when you were an infant, I had placed a blood protection charm on you. This charm kept you safe while you lived with your aunt, your mother's sister. Unfortunately, the charm did not protect you from your aunt herself, nor your uncle and cousin, which is why you were removed. I had also placed charms over the house itself to keep you safe. These were removed when you were. Now, I'll simply place similar charms over you. There's really nothing to it, you need only stand still while I do it."

"I'm confused, Professor," Harry said, " I thought Professor Snape was to protect me."

"Indeed he will, my boy " Dumbledore replied, "Professor Snape may place additional charms over you, as well. But, Harry, I have not reached the position I currently occupy without good reason. I can place charms and spells that nobody can break."

"But, Professor," Harry said. “If you can do that, and I'm here because I need protection....why can't you be my guardian?"

Dumbledore was about to speak when Madam Bones interjected, " Mr Potter, Professor Dumbledore has school to run, and duties at the Ministry with the Wizengamot. He's a very busy man with many different responsibilities. He is often away with these responsibilities. As much as I'm sure Professor Dumbledore would be quite happy to be your guardian, it simply is not feasible. You need a stable home life and a routine. Professor Snape is far more capable of providing this for you than Professor Dumbledore is. Isn't that right, Albus?"

Dumbledore gave her a tight smile, which softened as he turned to Harry. "My boy, Madam Bones is correct in that I would very much welcome being your guardian, unfortunately...she is also correct in that I am often away, as you know, and cannot oversee your daily routine. Know, however, Harry...it is with deepest regret that I am unable to do so."

"Don't worry, Harry," Charity said, "you'll still see Professor Dumbledore, of course. After all, you'll be living here in the castle also."

"In the dungeons," Harry said sullenly.

"Harry, it is my understanding that Professor Snape has redecorated to make you feel comfortable and welcome," Professor Dumbledore said with amusement. "Why, he's even given in to your house colours. Surely he gains points for that?"

Everybody chuckled at that, but Harry couldn't see the humour in any of this. He crossed his arms and said, “Yes, sir.”

After Professor Dumbledore cast the charms and protection spells over Harry, he walked them to the door as he and Charity took their leave. The moment Harry had been dreading was nigh, and he could think of no escape.

"Harry," Dumbledore said as he stepped onto the spiral staircase. "My door is always open to you, my boy."

Harry looked into the twinkling blue eyes knowing he'd meant he had an ally in the older man, but somehow Harry didn't feel comforted. Still, he nodded and as they spiralled downward he said, "Thank you, Professor."

He trudged after Charity, trying to delay the inevitable as long as possible, but far too soon they stood before the imposing heavy wooden door of his new home.

Harry stood there, trying to acclimate himself to the situation, but couldn't help giving one last protest. He blurted out, "Why can't Dumbledore just cast his charms and spells over me and the Burrow? You can't really believe Snape can give me a better home life than the Weasleys!"

"Harry," she sighed, " Professor Snape can give you time and attention the Weasley's cannot..."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Harry said, his shoulders sagging.

"Harry," she said with a sad little smile, "Professor Snape is not out for revenge, is not going to imprison you, is not going to set you on fire, or any other thing you seem to think he'll do. He's going to be your guardian. A guide in life. A father figure, if you will. You need to give him a chance. If it makes you feel any better, there will be periodic reviews of how you're both coming along, and you will be able to tell us of any concerns. Now, please place your hand, palm flat, on the door."

With a disgusted sigh, Harry gingerly did as she directed, and the door swung open to reveal the old bat standing there, arms crossed. He had an expression that on another face would have been neutral. To Harry it looked more like a grimace.

"Charity.” He nodded at her. "Mr Potter. Do come in."

Harry couldn't seem to make himself step forward; the sense of doom was overwhelming, rendering him temporarily immobile, but a sharp prod from Charity moved him forward.

"Severus," Charity said warmly.

Snape nodded at her, unfurled his arms, and gesturing toward the sitting area, said "Please be seated."

Harry followed the adults over to the sofa, seeing Snape had tea already set up. He perched on the edge of the sofa furthest away from Snape himself, and Charity sat in a chair across from him.

Snape poured, handed the cups around, and then gestured toward the tray containing the milk jug, sugar bowl, and a plate of cakes.

"Help yourselves," he intoned, then sipped at his own tea. Harry put his cup down, not in the mood to make nice. His stomach hurt and he felt a headache coming on.

"Tea not to your liking, Mr Potter?" Snape enquired with a frown.

"I'm just not thirsty, Sir," Harry said with a diffident shrug of his shoulders.

"Understandably, Harry is a little nervous, Severus," Charity said, as she ran her finger along the rim of the plain white cup. Her usually warm smile seemed forced and fragile. "This is new to everyone."

"Indeed," Snape said, eyeing Harry. "However, this is to be your home, Potter, so best get used to it."

Harry couldn't help himself, and snapped, "Why are you doing this? You hate me. We hate each other! What are you playing at, Snape? You can't possibly want me here!"

"Of course I do, Potter," Snape said with an evil smirk. "I assure you, I have nothing but your best interests at heart."

"You don't have a heart!" Harry shouted in frustration.

"Harry!" Charity exclaimed, putting her cup down with a clatter.

"It's true!" Harry insisted, standing up and moving to put the sofa between himself and the adults.

"Apologise to Professor Snape immediately!" Charity chastised him in what must be her best teacher's voice.

"No matter, Charity. After all, aren't these sort of outbursts precisely why Potter here needs discipline? "Snape, who had remained seated, his black eyes glinting, said evenly. To Harry he said, "You will find, Potter, that you won't be coddled and allowed to run amok as you have been. You will learn manners. Your rule breaking and cheek will not be tolerated here."

"Didn't you say I have my own room here?"Harry said through clenched teeth. "I'd Like to go to it now, if you don't mind, Sir."

"Certainly," Snape said, "you seem overwrought, Potter. Perhaps a lie down before dinner will do you good. This way."

The man capitulated far too quickly for Harry, and it made him uneasy. He was probably saving all his bile up for a later punishment after Charity left. Fine. He could try, but Harry wouldn't go down without a fight. He'd simply refuse to leave whatever torture chamber of a room Snape had set up for him, and then they'd have to move him elsewhere. He'd go on a hunger strike if he had to. After all, it was no hardship for him after the Dursleys. He stomped down the corridor after Snape, til they reached another heavy door.

"Harry," Charity began.

"Please, Charity, I will take over. It's best Potter get used to it now.” Snape interrupted her. He then said to Harry, “ Your room, Potter "anything you destroy, you will clean up. Without magic."

Harry glared at both of them, his betrayer and his torturer. "I hate you!" he shouted.

He slammed the door in both their faces.

***

Severus turned to Charity, his anger making his tone harsh, “Just as I told you, the boy is just as insolent as his sire.”

He mentally cursed Albus for getting him into this situation as Charity fixed him with one of her usual stares of disapprobation. She seemed to look at him like that more often than was warranted. After moments of charged silence she began, “Severus…”

He held up his hand to silence whatever Muggle psychobabble she intended to spew. “Don’t Charity. You know some of what I experienced as a child in a mixed household. I’ve no doubt that Petunia Evans is a nasty piece of work, just as my own father was.”

They both turned back to the lounge area. Once there they resumed their seats and Charity said, ”That’s exactly my point, Severus,”

Severus refused to be interrupted and continued over her interjection. “You also know from similar experience that poverty is not glamorous, nor is it to be put on and taken off as a fashion. The boy’s affectation of poverty, or whatever style those oversized rags he donned are meant to be, are deeply offensive to me, as they should be to you.”

“I don’t think…” Charity said.

Severus smirked as he took another sip of his tea, “Not thinking is not a fault I would ever accuse you of, Charity.”

She stood suddenly, knocking the tea table with her knee as she did. Severus winced in sympathy, but held his own counsel as she rubbed her leg and then began pacing in front of the fireplace. “I know you know the boy’s Aunt, Severus, so you should know that her biological son wasn’t dressed as Harry is. He had clothes that fit and were clean, free of stains and rips. His clothes aren’t some sort of affectation, as you say.”

Severus snorted softly. “That means nothing. Petunia wouldn’t allow…”

“Petunia wouldn’t allow what, Severus? She wouldn’t allow her son to look like Harry does? She wouldn’t allow him to do the bulk of the chores whilst, your own words, Harry lazes about demanding attention? She wouldn’t allow her own son to be beaten so severely it would take weeks for the bruises to disappear? Well, you’re right. Her son wasn’t allowed any of those things.”

“Exactly my point, Charity.” He replied. He would certainly be entertained disabusing Potter’s brat of any idea that he was owed special treatment. “Petunia Evans wouldn’t allow her sister’s child to suffer.”

Charity stamped her foot in obvious frustration. “When I leave here, I want you to look at where the boy’s Hogwarts letter was delivered to the first time, Severus. Then I want you to look at the tags on Harry’s clothes. Do you know what you will find?”

Severus scoffed, but a creeping feeling of wrong footedness was beginning to make him doubt some of his assumptions. He remained silent.

“You will find that Harry’s acceptance letter, at least the first few hundred, were addressed to the cupboard under the stairs.” Charity said. “And, Severus, I believe they weren’t misdirected because when the boy was packing he had to get into the locked cupboard to fetch his school trunk. When he opened the door, there was a little palette in there, the size just right for a small child, and a sweet picture that said, ‘Harry’s room’ on the wall.”

She continued. “When you look at the tag on the boy’s clothing, you will see that it’s his cousin’s name written on them, Dudley Dursley. Those ‘fashionable rags’ as you put it, are handed down to Harry.”

She stopped in front of him, her shoulders tight with tension. “The poor boy needs so much more than the protection you can give him. He needs you to see him as his own person, and not an extension of your own childhood of bullying.”

“I may very well be mistaken about the boy’s… situation.” Severus said, his mind racing as he went over the interactions he’d had with the boy over the last two years. “However, none of those things rise to the level of abuse.”

A fleeting look of pity crossed Charity’s face before she answered, “We have a witness to his abuse by the cousin, Severus. We have school records from his muggle primary school that made note of how the boy often came to school without a coat, without food, and bruises that couldn’t reasonably be explained. Don’t think that because your abuse was ignored, that Harry’s situation wasn’t the same.”

White hot rage knifed through him. It took all his self-control not to hex his friend. “Don’t use my past against me, Charity.”


“I’m not, Severus.” Her shoulders sagged. “I simply want you to realise that you aren’t alone and that boy in there needs your help.”

Severus stood facing her. He said, in an implacable tone, “I will take your words under advisement.”

“I’ll take my leave then, Severus.” Charity answered, gathering her things. “Please just take some time to get to know the boy and let him tell you his story.”

Severus nodded sharply as she reached into his pot of floo powder and threw some into the hearth. She shot him one more unreadable look and then proclaimed, “The Ministry.”

She was gone in a whoosh of green flames, and he was left to mull over her words.