To Harry’s immense annoyance, Snape’s obsession with him ‘resting’ carried on for a fair few days. Harry was at least allowed to move about when his injured foot was declared healed in the late afternoon following the accidental magic incident, but Snape strictly insisted that he stayed seated and got on with things quietly unless he was walking to the bathroom. Worst of all, he kept hovering. He remained in the same room as Harry for the vast majority of the time, mainly reading complicated books that Harry could barely understand the titles of. He was unable to truly forget Snape's presence at any given time, and it felt weirdly awkward.

 

Harry had been hoping Snape would disappear into his laboratory so he could go back to doing as he pleased, but Snape seemed to anticipate that Harry was going to break his recovery instructions the instant his back was turned and kept an annoyingly close eye on him. It seemed like all Harry was permitted to do was sit back and finish off the last few bits of his homework, or occasionally participate in a game of chess if Snape was feeling particularly indulgent.

 

Harry was feeling very ashamed of the way he’d acted the day after the Headmaster’s conversation with Snape, so he tried to allow the hovering without too much complaint. There was still a bit of eye rolling and huffing, of course, but compared to the amount of whining he didn’t verbalise, Harry thought he was behaving with remarkable restraint. It was all just really foreign to him. Harry hadn’t had someone worry about his health before, after all.

 

And although he wouldn’t admit it to Snape, Harry wasn’t really feeling like himself. He was quite tired and weary, and his muscles ached like he’d just finished up a brutal Quidditch practice. Harry also felt himself get a little lightheaded whenever he got up to use the loo, and he had to hold onto the sink basin for several moments after climbing the stairs to the bathroom until the stars in his vision faded. Because of this weariness, Snape had also annoyingly insisted Harry go to bed earlier while he ‘recovered’. He really resented that, until he found himself falling asleep as soon as he hit the pillow each night.

 

The magical exhaustion didn’t last very long, though. Harry felt a million times better by day two, and on day three, he almost felt completely normal, if a bit more lethargic than usual. This did not seem to satisfy Snape, though, who kept up with his annoying recovery regime. Harry was getting so antsy and restless from the lack of activity that he couldn’t sleep when he got into bed that night. He spent hours tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling or the dark backs of his eyelids, long after even Snape had gone to bed. Eventually, he huffed to himself and gave up. Harry wasn’t going to be sleeping any time soon.

 

With a sigh, Harry decided to give up altogether and go to the kitchen to make some tea. Maybe that would help. He slid out of bed and padded quietly down to the kitchen. By now, Harry knew the quirks of the Spinner’s End architecture well enough that he didn’t need to worry about squeaky floorboards or other house creaks that would wake Snape up. The only sound that he made came from the slightly groan of the pipes as he filled the kettle.

 

The kettle itself was rather strange. It was styled after an electric kettle, but wasn't actually plugged into the wall, like many of Snape's seemingly Muggle appliances. Instead, the button on the side activated an enchantment that made the water boil. Harry was fairly certain it also sped up the amount of time it took the water to boil, too. He smiled to himself as he got out a mug. Sometimes, Harry just really loved magic.

 

The kettle was just starting to whistle when Harry heard the door swing open behind him and jumped. He turned around and realised it wasn’t Snape, who he’d been expecting, but Draco. He scowled at Harry. “What are you doing down here?”

 

“Couldn’t sleep. You?”

 

“Something like that.” Draco looked between Harry and the kettle, which had just finished boiling. “Make me some, will you? I drink the peppermint tea.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco’s bossy tone but got out a second mug and the necessary tea bag nonetheless. While the tea steeped, he turned around and realised that Draco had sat down. He was slumped over, leaning his face against the side of the kitchen table, twirling something between his fingers. A necklace, Harry realised. He assumed it was the one he'd been accused of stealing. It was a pretty but delicate thing, with a dark gemstone pendant at the end of a thin, golden chain, which Draco was running between his fingers with a mournful look on his face. Harry placed down their mugs on the table and sat opposite to him, wondering again what was going on inside of Draco’s mind.

 

“Severus has been keeping me away from you,” Draco said abruptly.

 

Harry frowned. “What? Why?”

 

“He didn’t want me asking you nosy questions, apparently.”

 

“Ah.” Harry had thought Draco had been weirdly absent the last few days, but he hadn’t given it all that much thought. Snape had made frequent passive-aggressive comments about minding one's own business and obeying his rules at meals for the last few days, so Harry had assumed that Draco was still in trouble for eavesdropping and was stuck in the potions laboratory scrubbing cauldrons or something. If Snape had really told him not to ask any questions, Draco was probably buzzing with questions about the Dursleys that he finally had an opportunity to ask. Harry winced.

 

“Are you alright?” Draco asked worriedly, finally raising his head from the table. “I’ve never seen you like that. The way you were the other day, I mean. Does that sort of thing happen to you often?”

 

That had not been the prying question Harry had anticipated, but he still grimaced. Harry felt absolutely mortified over the complete freakout that he’d had, especially since it had happened in front of Snape and Draco, and he really didn’t want to talk about it. Draco was probably looking for ammunition, things to use against him…

 

But then Harry looked up and didn’t find a single trace of a sneer on his features. It was just pure concern. Something about that made Harry want to answer honestly.

 

“Not often. I mean - stuff like that’s happened a couple of times but never like that. It was… not nice.”

 

“Didn’t look it.”

 

Harry just nodded and sipped his tea, needing to do something with his hands.

 

“And it was just doing accidental magic that set you off?” Draco’s eyes were wide. “That was all?”

 

Harry scowled. “I don’t want to talk about it. But yes.”

 

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to live like that,” Draco said softly.

 

“It’s shit.”

 

Draco made an affirmative sort of noise and stared into his mug. Harry watched him closely, tense. He really didn’t want this line of questioning to continue.

 

Luckily for him, Draco changed the topic. “That fair the other day was the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

 

Harry managed a thin smile. “Yeah, same. I wish Snape actually let us outside more. I am so sick of sitting around and 'resting'…”

 

“I can try and convince him to let us go to the park tomorrow, if you want?”

 

“You can try, but he’ll never go for it,” Harry said. “Black, remember? Snape’s a complete paranoiac when it comes to him.”

 

“I have my ways,” Draco announced. “I’ll wear him down.”

 

Harry thought for a moment, wondering who was going to win that argument. Sure, Snape could be stubborn when he set his mind on something, but Draco was incredibly annoying when he started going on about something he wanted. He’d spent all of last week going on about some new hair gel that he just had to get, until Snape threatened to spell his mouth shut if he didn’t stop nagging. Harry wondered if he might just say yes to them going out somewhere to shut Draco up…

 

While he mulled it all over, Draco had gone back to leaning his head on the table and staring listlessly at the necklace. It was over five minutes before either one of them spoke again.

 

“I miss my mum,” Draco said softly.

 

Harry tensed at the words. He wasn’t sure what to say in response to a confession like that… was there anything to say?

 

“I’m sorry,” he said helplessly.

 

Draco sighed. “So am I.”

 

He got to his feet and left the darkened kitchen without another word, leaving a confused and saddened Harry in his wake.

 

---

 

“Keep your elbows off the table when you’re eating,” Snape said, giving Harry a disapproving look. Harry sighed and did so, but not without a small roll of his eyes.

 

“You’ve ignored it easily enough for the last few weeks,” he muttered.

 

“You are my ward now,” Snape said, slicing into a sausage. “You and your appalling table manners now reflect upon me. Sort them so I don’t spend the entirety of the autumn term glowering at you from across the Great Hall.”

 

“Fine…”

 

Snape could be so obsessive about certain things, Harry reflected, as he returned to his breakfast.

 

“At any rate, if I am going to take the two of you out to a restaurant this evening, I’d rather have you actually exhibit decent manners in public.”

 

Harry and Draco both jerked their heads up.

 

“A restaurant?” Draco said eagerly.

 

“Tonight?” Harry added.

 

“Yes,” Snape said. “Nothing too extravagant, but I have a very long day ahead of me, and I don’t particularly wish to cook.”

 

“Are you brewing something new?” Draco asked, his eyes glinting with interest.

 

“Unfortunately not." Snape scowled. “In preparation for the beginning of term, I have to attend a staff meeting.”

 

He spat it like it was a dirty swear word, and Harry couldn’t hold back a snort. Snape could be so dramatic. He shot Harry a withering look in response. “It will waste the majority of my day, and I will be up in Scotland for the duration. I’m sure the two of you can amuse yourselves without my input?”

 

“Could we go to the park?” Draco asked. Snape opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Draco quickly ploughed on. “Don’t say no. You let us go alone a few days ago for the fair, didn’t you? There’s no reason we shouldn’t be able to again. It’s literally the exact same situation!”

 

Snape’s lips thinned, and he paused for a moment. Eventually, he sighed. “You…you have a point. I suppose if you take the same precautions you did a few days ago, there is no plausible reason for me to deny you from going…”

 

“Wonderful,” Draco said with a smug grin. He’d backed Snape into a corner with logic, and all of them knew it. “I suppose we’ll head out when we’re done here, then!”

 

“Buy yourselves something for lunch, and be back no later than three,” Snape said, the warning for what would happen to them if they didn’t clear in the sharp edge of his tone. “And you’re to take it easy, Harry. Come straight back home if you start feeling at all unwell -”

 

“Oh my God, I’m fine!” 

 

“You keep an eye on him,” Snape ordered, turning to Draco and fixing him with a stern look.

 

“I will,” Draco promised.

 

“I don’t need to be hovered over!” Harry complained loudly.

 

Snape arched an eyebrow. “I suppose you’d prefer to remain in the house all day?”

 

Harry pulled a face and said, “I’ll be careful…”

 

“Good. Here’s some money, then. Enjoy yourselves.”

 

---

 

“You’re a genius,” Harry said to Draco as they walked along Spinner’s End. “I never thought you were going to convince him!”

 

“I knew he couldn’t reasonably refuse,” Draco said smugly, hitching the football he was carrying further up his arm. “Not without admitting the only reason he originally allowed us to go was because he wanted us out of the house while he used Legilimency on those Muggles you live with, which I doubt he wanted to confess to.”

 

“Er - right.” Harry shifted uncomfortably at the reminder of the Dursleys. He was almost certain that Draco was just aching to nag him about it further, a theory that was unfortunately confirmed when the other boy turned to him with an inquisitive look on his face.

 

“Look,” he said, slowing down his pace to match Harry’s, “like I said, Severus wants me to avoid the topic, but -”

 

“I thought we had an agreement,” Harry said stiffly, intentionally not meeting Draco’s eyes. “We don’t treat each other like Snape treats us. No probing questions. Leave well enough alone.”

 

“Maybe we should get over that,” Draco said thoughtfully, bouncing the football against the pavement. “We are going to be living together next summer, right?”

 

Harry did his best not to pull a face. “It’s the end of August. It’s not like we have to talk to each other between now and next June.”

 

“Oh, come on, Potter!” Draco snapped. “If you must know, I’m only asking because it’s really confusing me!”

 

“What’s confusing about it?” Harry said tightly. “You heard the long and short of it. I grew up with my Muggle relatives, and they hate me. You don’t need all the gory details.”

 

“No, not that!” Draco said impatiently. “I just - I don’t get it! I feel like everything I thought I knew is just a lie. You’re Harry Potter!” 

 

“Really?” Harry said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I wasn’t aware that was my name…”

 

“But everyone’s always talking about how you’re a hero!” Draco’s eyes were wide. “They bloody well worship you, people would have been lining up to take you in and give you a good home! When I was growing up, everyone thought you’d been whisked away by Dumbledore himself for special training because of how powerful you were! Then I find out you grew up with those awful Muggles?”

 

“Well, reality is always worse than what you’d think.” Harry scowled. He didn’t particularly appreciate the insulting tone Draco had used for the word ‘Muggle’.

 

“It’s bloody unfair, is what it is,” Draco said, kicking a pebble. It skittered up the road and out of sight. “You could have had a way better life, but you got stuck with them? Ridiculous…”

 

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” Harry muttered. This conversation had him on the defensive, and he felt oddly resentful and raw. “I’m pretty damn clear on how life isn’t fair.”

 

“My point is,” Draco stressed, “that you’re different than I thought you were. I was convinced you always thought you were better than me because you’re so famous but…well, I’ve learnt a lot about you these last few weeks. You’re a lot more normal than I thought you were.”

 

“I don’t think I’m better than you because I’m famous,” Harry said, shooting Draco a dirty look. “I hate being famous.”

 

Draco scoffed. “Please! Everyone wants to be famous!”

 

“Oh really?” Harry said icily. “How would you feel if you were famous for something you don’t even remember doing? Famous for the day your parents got murdered and you got stuck living with your horrid aunt and uncle?”

 

Draco at least had the decency to look a little ashamed. They walked in silence for a few minutes, and Harry contemplated his words. All this time, Draco had been jealous of him? That was what had caused his general nastiness these last two years? Well, that and the rejected offer of friendship on the train, Harry supposed. It just seemed a lot simpler than he’d always thought. He couldn’t see why there was anything for Draco to be jealous of.

 

“You know… I don’t think I understood about your parents until this year, really,” Draco said softly. “How horrible it must have been to lose them.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“How do you bear it?” Draco asked abruptly. His shoulders were hunched. “Your parents not being around, I mean.”

 

Harry didn’t know what he’d been expecting Draco to ask, but it certainly hadn’t been that. Part of him almost instinctively reached for a sharp retort, automatically assuming Draco was insulting him, but Harry stopped himself at the last minute. His face was tight and pained, and obviously earnest. Harry floundered for a few moments, since he didn’t exactly have an answer to that to hand.

 

“I… I don’t know,” he said finally. “I don’t know any different, honestly. I’ve never had them around.”

 

Draco sighed. “They don’t even let me write to them, you know. My parents.”

 

“Really?” Harry said, shocked. “That seems a little -”

 

“Unfair?” Draco finished. “Yeah, it is. It’s a nightmare trying to get under-seventeens permission to visit Azkaban, so it’s not like I can even see them in person. The Ministry used to allow mail, but then Black broke out, so they’ve changed the security measures in case someone snuck something in through the post to him. So I’m stuck with no visits, no mail and no contact.” His breath hitched. “It’s the same as if they were dead.”

 

Well, a small part of Harry’s brain unhelpfully wanted to point out, it wasn’t really the same, but his more empathetic side won out as he looked at Draco. His face was forlorn and hurt, and he was blinking rather rapidly. Harry glanced away so Draco would have the chance to wipe away any potential stray tears without being watched.

 

Shockingly enough, Harry felt a twinge of sympathy for the other boy. Over the last week in particular, Harry suddenly found himself able to separate Malfoy, the bullying Slytherin who made his life miserable, from Draco, the other parentless boy who played Monopoly and football with him. He didn’t know what was going to happen when the two of them were back at Hogwarts just a few days from now, but the Draco he’d come to know at Spinner’s End was surprisingly nice to be around at times.

 

After a moment, Harry tentatively reached out a hand and placed it on Draco’s arm. To his surprise, the other boy didn’t recoil or pull his arm away.

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly. “That’s really rotten.”

 

Draco nodded rather jerkily. “Well…if anyone understands what it’s like, I suppose it would be you.”

 

“Are you ever going to see them again?” Harry asked. Even though he knew that the elder Malfoys were in prison, he still didn’t know how long for, or what they’d even done to get locked up.

 

“I don’t know,” Draco said, bouncing the football rather aggressively. He muttered an oath and just about managed to snatch it back out of the air before it landed in the road. “My father’s got twenty years, as of right now, but they’re probably going to re-try him for a bunch of other things he got off on before.” Draco glowered at the pavement. “Mother got five years. I know for a fact she wasn’t involved, but no, they were just looking for any excuse to cart all of my family off to Azkaban…”

 

“But won’t she be out by the time you’re eighteen?”

 

Draco scowled. “Since you’re practically half-Muggle, I suppose you must have forgotten how magically draining Azkaban is! Even if she does make it out, there’s no telling if she’ll be the same person on the other side. Mother’s always been rather ill, and she might - she might not…”

 

Draco’s voice had started cracking towards the end, so Harry thought it was better to not push the topic, even though Draco still hadn’t told him what the Malfoys were in for. “Right. Sorry.”

 

They’d at last reached the park, which looked a little bit depressing without the bright lights and attractions of the travelling funfair. The grass was slightly brown from the August sun, and broken bottles glittered here and there. There was also a small playground with a peeling red swing set and a faded plastic slide backed by a brackish stream and a large willow tree that two girls were trying to climb. Harry and Draco wandered through the field adjoining it until they reached a very ragged-looking goalpost, so they could play an actual game of football for once. The net in the back of the goal had been completely torn out, excluding a few ragged strands of string attached to the plastic rim that were blowing in the gentle breeze. Harry sat down next to it and leaned his head against the plastic pole, which was hot with the heat of the August sun. Draco settled down opposite, the football in his lap.

 

“It’s like Snape says, I suppose,” Draco said. “We’ve got some stuff in common. Like our tendency to smash anything breakable in his house…”

 

Harry groaned. “The stupid accidental magic is doing my head in!”

 

Draco tutted. “At least you only smash stuff on accident, so you don’t get in trouble for breaking plates.”

 

“You never broke a plate, though.” Harry frowned, his eyebrows knitting together.

 

“Not while you were here,” Draco said, casting his eyes downward. “When they first sent me to live with him, though? Well, if you think I’m bad now, it was carnage back then. You should have seen us in July.”

 

“Really?”

 

"As you know, I'm not exactly happy to be here," Draco said, scratching his neck. "Between my parents getting sent away and going from my previous life to… well, this -” he gestured around the park with a disgusted look on his face, “it was a right shock to the system, and I wasn’t all that happy with Severus. I was making his life a nightmare, honestly. We practically spent the entirety of July screaming at each other all day…"

 

"You did?" Harry said, surprised. He'd seen Snape lose his temper, sure, but even then he still seemed to have exacting control of himself the majority of the time… he couldn’t imagine constant, screaming rows between him and Draco.

 

“How do you think he manages to stay so calm with you when you start yelling at him?” Draco asked, arching an eyebrow. “Severus isn’t a naturally patient person, you know, but my temper was something of a trial by fire. He had to figure out how to not let me get under his skin before we throttled each other. He worked out eventually that shouting back made it all worse, so he’s annoyingly calm with me nowadays when I’m angry. Especially after he started using Occlumency when he noticed me getting annoyed, I really couldn’t get a rise out of him anymore. I think he started taking pleasure in seeing how frustrated we both get when he doesn't react, actually…”

 

“I still don’t really get what Occlumency is,” Harry said.

 

“Well, you wouldn’t,” Draco said loftily. “It’s mainly to protect your mind from Legilimency attacks, but it does also help with managing your emotions, you know. Severus has actually been teaching it to me.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yep,” he said. “You should ask him sometime, I bet he’d teach you, too. Maybe that would help with your little accidental magic problem.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

Harry, as tempting as that sounded to him, was never going to do that. Mostly because the idea of asking Snape for help still felt a little wrong, and he didn’t want to be an even bigger drain on the man’s time than he already was.

 

Draco got to his feet. “Enough of this depressing rubbish. Snape’s let us out of the house for the first time in a billion years, we should make the most of it instead of sitting here and chatting!”

 

Harry smirked. “You’re on. Let’s play some actual football for once, eh?”

 

---

 

Even though Harry felt almost entirely better, he annoyingly discovered that strenuous exercise like playing football really took it out of him. Draco was beating him with ease, which he was thoroughly smug about, naturally. After a few hours of this, Harry finally admitted defeat, and the two of them wandered around Cokeworth until they came across a corner shop to buy themselves lunch.

 

“What’s this?” Draco asked, picking up a bottle of coke.

 

Harry noticed the cashier behind the counter staring at Draco with a puzzled look on his face and winced. He pointedly elbowed Draco and hissed, “Muggle thing. Not so loud.”

 

“Right.”

 

Draco went to put it back, but Harry stopped him. “Give it a go! You might like it.”

 

He shrugged. “Alright.”

 

Harry picked up some of his own, as well as some chilled sandwiches and crisps. This whole situation was rather odd, Harry thought to himself as he handed over the money. He very rarely got to buy things from corner shops, since he never had any Muggle money of his own. Aunt Petunia always used to let Dudley buy sweets after school, but he was forced to stand to one side and watch longingly while his cousin bought out half the shop.

 

The two of them settled on a creaky wooden bench with one missing slab near the store to eat their lunch. As Harry tucked into his sandwich, he noticed Draco holding the bottle of coke up to the light, a puzzled look on his face. He looked exactly like Snape did when he examined the colour of one of his potions, and Harry snorted.

 

Draco scowled and elbowed him. “Don’t!”

 

“Just drink it!” Harry laughed. He opened his own bottle and took a pointed sip, eyebrows raised.

 

“Okay…” Draco cracked open the bottle and cautiously sipped it. A moment later, his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “It’s - it’s fizzy!” 

 

“Yeah?” Harry laughed again. “It’s a fizzy drink, that’s the whole point!”

 

“But they’re Muggles!” Draco said, staring at the bottle with fascination. “How can they make that work?”

 

“It’s carbonated.”

 

“Excuse me? What is that?”

 

As it so often happened when he tried to explain Muggle things, Harry found himself stumped. “Um… they put carbon under pressure, I think. Then it makes those bubbles, and you drink them.”

 

“Odd.” Draco took another swig of the bottle. “I still prefer Butterbeer, though.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

It was now Draco’s turn to look shocked. “You don’t know?! You’re missing out!”

 

After a lengthy conversation where Draco explained in detail how amazing Butterbeer supposedly was, which Harry was almost certain was entirely exaggerations, they began to walk back to the park. They didn’t make it that far from the bench they’d eaten on, however, before someone loudly cleared their throat from behind.

 

“Oi, specky!” A voice called. Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw a group of three boys walking up the path behind them, hands in their pockets. They all looked around fifteen or sixteen, and were leering at Harry. He turned his head back around and started walking more quickly, hoping Draco knew to match his pace. Something about the expectant smirks on the boys’ faces made the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stand up.

 

“Stop!” One boy shouted. “Don’t walk away when we’re talking to you!”

 

Harry was preparing to further quicken his pace, but unfortunately Draco stopped and turned around, his nose wrinkled as if he’d just smelled something rotten. “Yes?”

 

“Heard you talking,” a boy with a shaved head said casually, stepping forward. He was alarmingly tall. “You two aren’t from round here. I don’t remember you from school…”

 

Draco arched an eyebrow. “No, we aren’t from around here. We’re simply visiting during our summer holidays from boarding school.”

 

He drew out the words ‘boarding school’ as if they were a badge of honour. Harry tried to hide his wince as the three boys exchanged crafty looks. This wasn’t good…

 

“If you go to boarding school, you must be pretty well off,” a muscular boy who looked a lot like Goyle commented casually.

 

“Of course,” Draco said loftily.

 

“Well, we should really get going,” Harry said loudly, grabbing Draco’s wrist and intentionally squeezing hard. “Nice chat -”

 

“Hang on a minute,” Shaved Head said, stepping forwards. He had his hands in his pockets. “Now, since you’re not from round here, you don’t know the rules. You don’t leave until we say you do.”

 

Draco sneered. “I’m not going to be ordered around by some Muggle.” 

 

Shaved Head’s face instantly twisted into a snarl. “What did you just call me?”

 

“A Muggle,” Draco said, stepping forward and glowering up at the older boy. “What, are you stupid or something? Well, you would be…”

 

Quick as a flash, the boy shoved into Draco and pinned him against a nearby wall with an audible thump. “I think you want to be more careful about how you talk to us, posh boy.”

 

Draco plunged a hand into his pocket and jabbed his wand directly into the boy’s chest, face fierce. “Get off me, you filthy -”

 

“Draco!” Harry hissed. “You can’t! You’ll be arrested!”

 

The four boys laughed.

 

“Arrested for what? Pointing some stupid stick?” A crooked-nosed boy sneered. “How pathetic!”

 

Still, Draco had understood, and that was what mattered. He slowly slid the wand back into his pocket, but the boy pinning him to the wall didn’t let him go.

 

“Look, we don’t want any trouble,” Harry said nervously.

 

Goyle’s clone snickered. “Here’s what you don’t know, new kids. Around here, we decide who makes the trouble. Now turn out your pockets and hand over all your money. I know you’ve got some.”

 

Harry was very familiar with this kind of situation. This was exactly the kind of thing Dudley spent his summers doing with his own gang back in Surrey. Well, at least he knew how to deal with this. Harry bit back a sigh and kept his eyes lowered and deferential as he reached into his pocket to dig out the measly three pounds they had left over from Snape’s allotment.

 

Unfortunately, Draco apparently did not know how to behave around a group of bullies who were both older and stronger than he was. Harry’s hand had just closed around the coins jingling in his pocket when Draco jerked his knee directly into Shaved Head’s groin. The boy howled and doubled over, releasing Draco from the wall he’d been pressed into. He shot off, grabbing Harry’s forearm as he ran to tug him along. Harry began to run as quickly as his legs could carry him, hearing the sounds of the boys’ footsteps slapping against the concrete. They were in hot pursuit.

 

Unfortunately, it was far easier to run away from his obese cousin than it was to escape a group of older boys with significantly longer legs, so Harry and Draco had barely managed to make it back to the edge of the park before the gang caught up. Crooked Nose grabbed a fistful of Harry’s shirt and yanked him backwards. He landed a punch on Harry’s face, snapping the bridge of his glasses against his nose. Pain spread throughout his face, only worsening as he was struck a second time.

 

Harry saw a blond blur running over in his peripheral vision. “Get off him!”

 

To his immense shock, Draco was currently trying to yank Crooked Nose off him. It was a fruitless effort, especially once the two other boys grabbed Draco and started beating him, too. He gasped in pain as Shaved Head drove his fist into Draco’s stomach, over and over again.

 

Harry kicked Crooked Nose as hard as he could in the shin and tried his best to shove Shaved Head off Draco, but Goyle’s twin got to him first and threw him to the pavement. Harry barely had time to catch himself before his head smacked into the concrete, and felt the sharp sting of the surface ripping open his palms. Without his glasses, he couldn’t see the attacker who began repeatedly kicking him in the ribs. Harry couldn’t help his gasp the third time the boot smacked into his side, causing an explosion of agony that seemed to splinter through his entire chest. He heard a noisy crunch - someone had smashed his glasses under a foot. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the next hit -

 

But no blow came. Instead, he heard one of the boys - Crooked Nose, if he was correct - shriek in terror. Moments later, there was a series of low growls and noisy barks. Harry squinted, and saw a large, black dog with its teeth latched into the boy’s leg.

 

“Ahh! Get it off me!” Crooked Nose shrieked, trying in vain to shove the dog away with one hand. He yelped again as the dog unlatched its jaw from his leg and tried to bite his hand.

 

“What the bloody hell is going on with it?!” Goyle’s clone shouted. “Jim, help him!”

 

“No way! Run, quick!” Shaved Head - presumably Jim - shouted. “Leave the kids to distract it!”

 

Harry watched as three blurry figures ran as quickly as they could, chased by the hazy black smudge that had to be a dog, still yapping at their heels. The creature kept up the hunt until the boys rounded a corner and vanished from view.

 

Harry didn’t move. Many years of being viciously beaten by gangs of boys, particularly his cousin, had taught him that the minute you moved, all of the adrenaline flooded out of your body and you became very painfully aware of every single abrasion lacing you. It would all come to him eventually, but right now he wanted to savour the last few relatively pain-free moments he had.

 

“Sorry,” Draco said hoarsely from nearby. “I didn’t realise that was going to happen.”

 

“Idiot,” Harry mumbled through bloodied lips. He hoped his nose wasn’t broken…although as Harry reflected further on where precisely his face was throbbing, he realised that the majority of the blood was coming from a pulsing cut across the bridge of his nose where his glasses had broken. It was intermingling with the blood from a split lip.

 

My glasses… Harry pushed himself up at last, every part of his body screaming in protest, and started blindly feeling around for them. Draco suddenly gripped his wrist and deposited a pile of twisted wire into his open palm.

 

“It’s no use,” he said. “They’re shattered.”

 

Harry groaned. “Great…”

 

“Can you give me a hand?” Draco asked stiffly. “I think I twisted my ankle when they shoved me back and I can’t really put weight on it.”

 

“Okay, but you have to direct,” Harry said as Draco put an arm around his shoulder, gasping in pain again as Draco accidentally touched his injured ribs. The other boy gave him a concerned look.

 

“Fine,” he managed to grit out.

 

They began hobbling along, and Harry attempted a weak chuckle, instantly regretting it when it made the sharp pain in his side worse. “Look at the state of us. This really is like the blind leading the blind…”

 

Draco tutted. “You’ve got that right. Hey, how bad is your vision anyway? How many fingers am I holding up?”

 

“Four. I’m not completely blind, you dolt,” Harry grumbled as four hazy digits waved in front of his face.

 

It was slow work, between the two of them. It was hard supporting Draco, who could barely put any weight on his ankle, while Harry himself was in rather a lot of pain from the kicks to his ribs. It seemed like an age before they made any significant progress.

 

“We shouldn’t have ever come here today,” Draco muttered.

 

Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

“Dangerous Muggles, lurking around corners and attacking you for no good reason…”

 

Harry sighed very loudly, causing another sharp jolt of pain. “Draco, it has nothing to do with the fact that they’re Muggles! They’re just a gang of horrid pricks that like to go around terrorising people, okay? Wizards can be just as bad! And are you really telling me that mugging doesn’t exist in the wizarding world?”

 

“Well - yeah, but I’ve never been mugged there!” Draco said indignantly. “Then the moment I go to the Muggle world, I am? I don’t think it’s a complete coincidence…”

 

“It’s just because Cokeworth is a complete shithole,” Harry grumbled. “But it’s not a shithole because of the Muggles, Draco.”

 

“If it wasn’t because they’re Muggles, why did they get so angry and vicious when I called them Muggles?” Draco challenged.

 

“Because as far as they could tell, it was an insult. You have a very insulting tone, you know. And you also called the Muggle stupid, remember?” Harry was trying very hard to keep his temper in check, but was finding it difficult. As far as he could tell, they would have gotten away three pounds poorer and without the beating if Draco would have kept his mouth shut. He just had to boast and fight back, didn’t he…

 

Draco sniffed. “Witches and wizards aren’t that violent. It’s the Muggle blood that makes them aggressive -”

 

“Are you actually being serious?” Harry asked incredulously. “Our kind are probably even worse than Muggles! Are you forgetting the entire massive war we had twelve years ago? Or what about the time Ron tried to make you puke slugs? Or, actually, any of the other billions of duels that happen at Hogwarts all the time? The snake you shot at me last year? Oh, or -”

 

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Draco snapped. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Potter…”

 

Harry glared at him and resisted the urge to smack Draco round the back of the head.

 

Draco huffed. “I just don’t get why you have to wax lyrical about Muggles constantly, especially since we just got attacked by a group of them -”

 

“And I don’t get why you have to act like they’re worthless cockroaches, but I’ll agree to disagree for now.” Harry’s lip was rather swollen from the punch to his face, and it was making speech rather difficult. He was worried he was accidentally going to bite it while he talked, and that would certainly hurt like hell. He wasn’t going to deal with extra pain just to bicker with Malfoy…

 

After a few moments, Draco grunted. “Can you shift my weight?”

 

“Right.” Harry readjusted Draco’s arm over his shoulder. “Um… look, even though you’re a complete idiot, I just wanted to say - er, thanks.”

 

“For getting you beaten up? Oh, you’re very welcome!” he said sarcastically.

 

“No, that’s what I mean,” Harry said, wiping a trickle of blood from his face from the back of his hand. “I meant thanks for not leaving me to get beaten up. You could have kept running, but you tried to drag those Muggles off me when they caught me.”

 

“What was I supposed to do?” Draco scoffed. “If I’d abandoned you with a gang of violent Muggles, it wouldn’t have mattered that I’d gotten away since Severus would have killed me for ditching you!”

 

“You still helped me,” Harry insisted. Despite Draco’s insistence to the contrary, that meant something in his mind. The Draco he’d known before probably would have joined in to help those Muggles finish the job, but he’d actually tried to help Harry! It was unexpected, but it made a strange, warm sensation spread in his chest.

 

Draco scoffed. “Gryffindors. Always so stupidly honourable…”

 

“Picking a fight with a group of older boys is pretty Gryffindorish, you know,” Harry pointed out. “That’s foolish, headstrong behaviour right there.”

 

Draco made a fake gagging noise. “Merciful Merlin, you must be rubbing off on me. How perfectly awful. I’m turning into a bloody Gryffindor…”

 

“Watch it, you slimy Slytherin.”

 

After a few moments of silence, Draco sighed very loudly. “Well…if we’re on the topic of thanks, I suppose I ought to…properly acknowledge what you did for me,” he muttered. Every word was slightly strained. “I do appreciate your ill-fated attempt to drag that Muggle off me.”

 

That, Harry thought, was the most roundabout way of saying ‘thanks’ he could have possibly mustered, but considering this was Draco Malfoy, he could still appreciate the progress.

 

“You’re welcome, Draco.” He looked at the other boy. Even without his glasses, Harry could see he looked utterly awful. “Maybe next time, try not to pick a fight with everyone and everything? Make a few sacrifices for the sake of a quiet life.”

 

“You don’t need to lecture me,” Draco said, sounding rather disgruntled. “Believe me, I’ve learnt my lesson. Besides, Severus is going to give me a hard enough time when he finds out.”

 

Harry stopped walking, frozen. “Wait, what?”

 

“Speaking of, there he is,” Draco said, nodding up the road. Harry could see a black figure making its way in their direction. “He must have gotten back from his meeting early.”

 

“What on earth happened to you?!”

 

Harry didn’t think he’d actually seen Snape run before, but he did so now in his haste to get to Harry and Draco. He wrenched Harry and Draco apart, and Harry winced sharply as the contact jolted his sore side.

 

“Have you two been fighting again?” Snape demanded, expression furious. “I thought you’d at last put aside this ridiculous -”

 

“No, we weren’t fighting, for God’s sake!” Harry hissed. He barely bit back an insult, Draco’s warnings of Snape’s anger still at the forefront of his mind. Still, it really annoyed Harry when Snape always assumed the worst of him.

 

“What happened, then?” Snape asked. He gripped Harry’s shoulder, fingers almost bruising. “I think I’d recall sending you out of the house bruised and bloodied!”

 

“We got beaten up by some boys,” Harry quickly explained before Draco could talk. He couldn’t help but think that Draco’s idiocy had been punished enough by that beating - he didn’t need Snape’s lecture on top of it as well. Judging by his grateful squeeze of Harry’s arm, the gesture wasn’t missed.

 

Snape muttered an oath under his breath and took ahold of Draco’s arm. “Can you walk unassisted, Harry?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Inside now, then,” he snapped, helping the limping Draco through the last little bit of the distance to his house. Harry followed closely, wiping some of the blood off his face with the edge of his shirt.

 

Snape led them both into the kitchen and pointed at the table. Harry and Draco sat down as Snape silently left the kitchen and stormed up the stairs, his footsteps crashing against the steps.

 

“How much trouble are we in, then?” he whispered nervously as the sound of someone loudly rummaging through a cupboard echoed through the small house. It sounded like Snape was cursing under his breath, and Harry winced. He was really going to lose it on them…

 

Draco frowned as he propped his injured ankle up on a spare chair. “Why would we be in trouble? We’re the ones who just got beaten up!”

 

“Then why is he angry?” Harry asked blankly.

 

“I am not angry at you, Harry!” Snape shouted exasperatedly from upstairs. Harry winced; he’d forgotten how good the man’s hearing was. “Did you ever consider I might be angry at the aforementioned gang that decided to use you and Draco as human punching bags?”

 

“Oh.”

 

Harry hadn’t, actually. The Dursleys were the masters of burying their heads in the sand when Harry was beaten up by Dudley, so he wasn’t all that used to people caring about his injuries.

 

“I know you are constantly engaging in some sort of mischief,” Snape continued as he walked back down the stairs, “which normally results in my immense irritation. I would like to clarify, however, that I am not angry with you every time I am angry.”

 

“Er - right.”

 

Snape placed something cold into Harry’s hand. It turned out to be some sort of ice pack. “Hold that on your face for a minute.” He turned to Draco. “Your ankle is injured?”

 

“Yes, but I don’t think it’s broken.” Harry saw Draco wince as Snape started running a wand along the side of his foot. A piece of parchment appeared in the air, which Snape snatched up and read closely.

 

“Just a nasty sprain,” Snape reported. “Keep it elevated for the moment. Where else are you hurt?”

 

“My face, obviously, and my stomach,” Draco said, gesturing vaguely to his torso. Snape started running his wand along Draco’s stomach, and a quill began scribbling across the parchment. Snape watched it, and nodded. “All bruising, nothing broken. I’ll apply a salve in a moment.”

 

Snape shifted around to face Harry. “Now, onto you. What hurts? An honest account, please, I know what you’re like.”

 

Harry bit back the instinctual response of ‘I’m fine’ and removed the ice pack from his face. “Well, there’s this. Oh, and they kicked me in the side.”

 

He barely had a moment to prepare himself before the end of Snape’s wand was in his face. “Desepticus.” 

 

Harry yelped as the open cuts on his face stung and burned. “Can’t you warn me before you do that?!”

 

“I will next time.” Snape’s hand suddenly started moving towards Harry’s face and he flinched. Snape froze.

 

“I am just going to apply a healing salve to some of the open cuts so they stop bleeding,” he explained in a very calm, level voice. Irritation surged up in Harry at the tone. He didn’t need to be managed.

 

“It’s just because I can’t see,” he muttered, feeling a bit embarrassed. He’d gotten a little better about the flinching, but being without his glasses left Harry feeling horribly vulnerable, since he couldn’t see everything going on around him.

 

“I’ll fix your glasses in a moment, I just thought I should make it so you can actually wear them first,” Snape said, putting a steadying hand under Harry’s chin as he dabbed something that smelt of liquorice onto the cuts on Harry’s nose and lip. The hand was probably to stop him from jerking away like an idiot again, he thought glumly.

 

“Oculus reparo,” Snape said, handing the glasses to Harry. He shoved them onto his face, wincing as they touched the tender skin on the bridge of his nose, which was still slick with the healing salve. Harry sighed with relief as the world immediately came into sharper focus. He looked across the table and gasped slightly as he got a clear look at Draco’s bruised and bloodied face for the first time. One of his eyes was almost completely swollen shut, and blood was steadily trickling out of one nostril.

 

“Is it really that bad?” Draco asked fearfully, noticing his reaction and instantly hiding his face with his hands.

 

"I don't know how you're going to get by anymore without those good looks," Harry said with mocking solemnity, putting a hand over his heart.

 

“You’ll be fine,” Snape said briskly, pulling Draco’s hands away and repeating the same healing process he’d performed on Harry, before also applying some sort of unidentifiable potion to Draco’s stomach and ankle. Harry didn’t pay much attention, since his ribs were really starting to hurt by now. Every time he inhaled, it was like a sharp knife stabbing him in the side. He tried to take shallow breaths, but it didn’t help much.

 

Harry, of course, was just going to deal with it - not like he hadn’t had bruised ribs before, growing up with Dudley - but Snape, of course, noticed. He finished up with Draco’s ankle, ordered him to keep it elevated, and turned to Harry. “What side were you injured on?”

 

“The left.”

 

Snape pulled up Harry’s shirt and inhaled sharply. Harry looked down and realised his ribs had already bruised to a brilliant, mottled purple. He ran his wand along Harry’s side, and he struggled not to wince as it touched the tender skin. The text on Snape’s parchment glowed blue, and he shook his head. “A fracture, as I suspected. Skele-Gro will take care of that.”

 

Harry pulled a face. “I’d rather deal with the fracture.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Snape rolled his eyes, flicked his wand, and a bottle flew into his hand. He then summoned a glass, and began to pour the smoking yellow liquid into it. The whole situation was somehow worse than it had been last year, since Harry now knew what was coming.

 

“I thought Skele-Gro was only for regrowing bones,” he said a little desperately. “Can’t you just heal it with your wand?”

 

“Skele-Gro can be used for a variety of bone-related afflictions,” Snape said. “I’m not a qualified Healer, so I don’t like to use Episkey for ribs. They can be rather tricky. You don't want a badly-grown bone fragment piercing the lung, after all.” He slid the glass across the table to Harry. “Drink up.”

 

Despite Harry’s best efforts, he was unable to stop the coughing and spluttering as he choked down the vile potion. It really burned, and the horrid aftertaste didn’t fade even after Harry tried to wash it down with a glass of water. Snape somehow managed to procure a stick of gum from somewhere, which helped a little. That was surprisingly considerate, especially given that this was Snape. Madam Pomfrey had not been particularly sympathetic last year, he recalled.

 

“You should be back to normal in a few hours,” Snape said, brushing off his hands.

 

“Really?” Harry said, surprised. “When I was regrowing the bones in my arm last year it took all night!”

 

“Mending a fracture is a lot simpler than regrowing an entire arm’s worth of bones.” Snape scowled rather fiercely. “I still don’t know what that utter buffoon Lockhart was thinking…”

 

“No one does,” Harry muttered. He half-expected a rebuke for insulting a professor, even if it was a former one, but Snape actually nodded his agreement.

 

“Now, onto your assailants,” Snape said, staring down Harry and Draco. “Describe them, if you please.”

 

Harry and Draco both quickly did so, and Harry passed on the name of the boy, Jim, who Crooked Nose had begged for help after being attacked by the dog.

 

Snape’s expression darkened. “Ah, the local hooligans. I’m familiar with those particular boys, I’ve had dealings with them in the past…” He pushed his chair back. “The two of you are to rest upstairs while I deal with them.”

 

“Deal with them?” Harry asked a little nervously.

 

“Why can’t we come?” Draco complained. He had a slightly vindictive look on his face. Harry was familiar with it after two years of hallway fights.

 

“Because you shouldn’t be walking,” Snape said pointedly, shooting a look at Draco’s injured ankle. “At any rate, it would not be, ah… appropriate, to have the two of you attend.”

 

“What are you going to do?” Harry asked, suddenly overcome by visions of Snape deftly hexing the boys, or chopping them up into potions ingredients.

 

“They’re terrified of me,” Snape said simply, rising to his feet. “I will simply… inform them of how unwise a repetition of such behaviour, particularly with my wards, would be.”

 

There was a fleeting moment where Harry scoffed to himself - as if a stern talking to would work on nasty thugs like those boys.

 

Then, he caught sight of Snape’s face.

 

Ever since the man had found out about the Dursleys, the usual horrid Potions Master Harry was used to seemed to have faded away. The current Snape was calmer, less insulting, and generally less intimidating than the man Harry was familiar with from Hogwarts. So, the usual look of doom Snape wore at school coming back all at once was rather disconcerting. Yes, Harry could definitely see how that furious glower would be intimidating to most teenagers, even the ones that had beat him and Draco up…

 

It was still a little surprising to know that someone, especially Snape, was willing to defend him, though. A warm glow seemed to spread in Harry’s chest, but he immediately shoved it away. It was a very weird thing to be happy about, he reminded himself.

 

Even if he didn’t want to admit it, though, it was still nice.

 

“Enough of this chatting,” Snape said briskly. “We’ll adapt our evening plans to account for this incident and get a takeaway instead. You two ought to rest.”

 

He pointed his wand at Draco, who shouted out as he was levitated into the air.

 

“No walking on that ankle!” Snape’s lips twitched slightly as Draco shrieked his protest. Harry laughed as Draco floated through the hallway; it might have been a tad spiteful, but Draco had also laughed when Snape had threatened to levitate Harry a few days ago, so he thought it was karma.

 

“You’re also injured, Mr Potter,” Snape remarked, smirking at Harry. “Care to join him up there?”

 

“No, no, I’m alright!” Harry said quickly. For a moment, he was worried Snape was going to do it anyway, but quickly realised the man was simply teasing.

 

Snape. Teasing. It was a strange thing to realise, but not as unsettling as it might have been before. Harry was finally starting to get used to all of this, he thought. He hurried along up the stairs, trying to stifle his snickers at Draco’s continual shrieks of indignation, since laughter was unsettling his prickling ribs.

 

Harry slipped into his room and sat on his bed while Snape at last put Draco down on the opposite twin. He glowered up at Snape, who was still smirking slightly. “Both of you stay here and rest. Believe me, I’ll know if you don’t. I should be back in under an hour.”

 

He shut the door moments later, and Harry heard the loud crack of Apparition echo out from the hallway. Harry settled back against his pillow and stared at the ceiling mournfully. Snape was going to doom him to rest forever at this rate…

 

“You know,” Draco remarked, “we got really lucky with that dog, didn’t we?”

 

“I know,” Harry said, remembering the loud growls and barks of the creature as it chased the terrified boys away.

 

“I wonder why it came after them?” Draco said thoughtfully.

 

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe it smelled the blood or something?”

 

“Possibly. It did look like a stray.”

 

“Whatever the reason was, it saved us. It didn’t seem like they were gonna clear off anytime soon…”

 

They fell into silence. Harry wondered for a moment why that dog had looked so oddly familiar. He supposed that without his glasses, any dog would probably remind him of Aunt Marge’s collection of awful hounds. They also liked to bite, after all…

 

“We’re not really going to lie here and do nothing, right?” Draco asked.

 

“Nope,” Harry said, sitting up with a wince. “I want a distraction from the Skele-Gro.”

 

“I don’t envy you,” Draco remarked, leaning on one elbow and watching Harry. “Maybe that’s what Severus should do to those stupid Muggles - force-feed them Skele-Gro.”

 

“That would be amazing,” Harry said, running his tongue against the back of his teeth. Even with the gum, he swore he could still taste the awful stuff. “Wouldn’t it hurt them, though, if they aren’t injured?”

 

“Who cares?” Draco said. “And no, it wouldn’t. Skele-Gro only grows something if you have a bone problem. It would just taste terrible.”

 

“I wonder what Snape is gonna do to them?”

 

“Oh, I hope he curses them.” Draco sighed, a daydreaming expression on his face. “He knows a lot of Dark Magic, I think. Maybe he can permanently turn their ankles backwards or something… oh, or he could make their flesh start to melt before their eyes -”

 

“Chess?” Harry asked abruptly, feeling the sudden need to stem the tide of Draco’s slightly violent thoughts.

 

“Sure.”

 

As Harry shuffled over to get their chess sets out, he abruptly recalled an incident back in his first year - fighting the troll with Ron and Hermione. The experience of toppling a ten foot mountain troll had an odd bonding effect, and they’d all been friends ever since.

 

Something about the experience of a common enemy brought people together, even if the common enemy was created by Draco Malfoy being an unaware idiot with no street smarts. Harry still couldn’t believe that Draco had actually tried to defend him today. Draco might claim that he hadn’t had a choice, but Harry knew the boy from before would have fled, no matter what Snape would have had to say about it.

 

He had defended Harry like a friend. Something about that made him unable to stop smiling.