Draco was surprisingly fast. Harry was beginning to develop a rather painful stitch in his right side as he continued to follow Draco into the depths of the dungeons, just barely managing to keep pace. Only the occasional flash of blonde as he rounded a corner informed Harry that he was headed in the correct direction.

 

At last, Draco turned into a place with a dead end - a boys’ lavatory. After sprinting the length of the corridor, Harry hesitated outside for a moment before hurrying inside, not caring about the possible consequences. Harry immediately caught sight of Draco’s face as he stood hunched over the sink, reflected in a broken mirror. The tears on his cheeks glistened in the dim light. If that wasn’t a clear enough sign that he was crying, the sobs echoing off the walls certainly were. Harry felt something clench uncomfortably in his chest.

 

Draco’s sobs abruptly cut off. He had to have noticed the sound of a door opening. Draco turned around, saw Harry, and his face quickly twisted into a scowl. Draco raised his wand, which Harry hadn’t even realised he was holding.

 

“GET - OUT!” he screeched, so loudly it hurt Harry’s ears. His words bounced and reverberated off the stone walls, so deafening that Harry couldn’t quite make out the words of the curse that ripped its way from Draco’s wand before the jet of purple light hit him. It smacked into Harry with the force of a car, throwing him backwards and into the wall with a resounding crash. Harry crumpled to the floor with a soundless gasp, the wind knocked out of him. It took him almost a minute to catch his breath and to do a quick scan of his body, where he realised that apart from a throbbing pain in the back of his head and a slight ache in his shoulder from the impact against the wall, Draco hadn’t actually tried to hurt him with that spell. He really was just trying to get Harry out.

 

Harry was about to make good on Draco’s screams and leave him be when he saw that Draco had started weeping again. Harry had seen people cry before, but never like this. Deep, ragged sobs tore out of him, punctuated by shallow gasps. It was almost like he was choking on his own pain. Harry had never seen someone this devastated…

 

And all of a sudden, several puzzle pieces in Harry’s mind seemed to click into place. Draco was trying to push him away, and he was testing to see if Harry would let himself be pushed away.

 

The cold, furious bully wasn't Draco Malfoy anymore - that was merely a mask. The heartbroken person in front of him who Harry had grown to understand in ways he'd never expected during August was the real person, and he was in pain. The silence, the anger, the hexing - Draco was hurt and upset, because he thought he couldn’t trust Harry. He was doing the same thing Harry had spent the last month doing with Snape and avoiding vulnerability to stop himself from getting hurt again. Draco was furious about what had happened to him, and he didn’t know what to do with all of that anger except push it outwards, to hurt other people, since that was all he’d been taught to do.

 

And because of that, Draco had alienated himself in the world.

 

Pity began to stir in Harry’s chest. This all really was quite horrible for Draco, wasn’t it? No parents, no friends, his entire former life stripped away in one fell swoop… no wonder he was angry. No wonder he wasn’t handling it well.

 

A small voice - Snape’s voice - whispered in Harry’s head, reminding him of a long-ago conversation. Maybe it would be best to offer something of an olive branch. For both your sakes.

 

Harry had rejected Snape’s suggestion originally, but now he knew the man was right. Someone had to make an effort to bridge the divide, and this time it ought to be him. Harry had spent his early years believing that there wasn't a person in the world who cared about him, and it had broken something in him in ways he couldn't quite explain. No matter what, Harry couldn’t participate in that being done to another person. Even if what Draco had done last week had hurt Harry, even if they were fighting, he clearly needed someone to forgive him and be there for him in his time of need.

 

So, before he could talk himself out of what was surely a foolish idea, Harry marched forwards and hugged Draco.

 

Harry’s entire experience with hugs consisted of occasional ones initiated by friends over the course of the past two years, since the Dursleys had never once hugged Harry. He wasn't entirely sure if he'd ever actually tried to hug someone unprompted before, since whenever Harry had tried to hug Aunt Petunia as a small child he'd be shoved away with a disgusted glare. As a result, Harry didn't really know what he was supposed to do with his arms or hands, which felt overly awkward and conspicuous as he wrapped them around Draco, so he sort of linked them together and hoped for the best. Moments after he did it, Harry braced himself, fairly certain that Draco was going to body slam him to the ground for even daring to do something this idiotically affectionate. God, what was Harry thinking?

 

But Draco didn’t attack Harry. At first he tensed, but after a few moments, his arms came around Harry’s middle. He actually buried his face in Harry’s shoulder and began to cry into his robes. Harry stared around the toilets awkwardly, unsure of where to go from here.

 

What did you say to someone whose father was almost guaranteed a life sentence in Azkaban, anyway? ‘Sorry’ didn’t quite seem to cut it, and it would also be a lie, since Harry was firmly convinced that Lucius Malfoy deserved to spend the rest of his life in a prison cell. ‘There there’? Harry was not an expert in comforting crying people, he was rapidly realising. Maybe he just should have just hunted down Snape or something…

 

Well, Snape was generally horrified by even the slightest hint of tears, so Harry wasn’t sure he’d be able to come up with anything better.

 

In the end, Harry just settled for standing there silently and patting Draco’s shoulder every now and then. He hoped the contact could impart all of the things he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. Draco seemed accepting of it, at any rate. He kept his face hidden in Harry's robes for a very long time, and his arms held onto Harry with the strength of a boa constrictor. Harry just hoped he was helping.

 

Draco eventually surfaced from Harry’s robes, his face blotchy and his eyes red. “Why are you even bothering with me?” he rasped. “I’m horrible."

 

That first question made something in Harry’s heart seize uncomfortably, since he was fairly certain he’d shouted that exact phrase at Snape on a multitude of occasions. He was far too familiar with the jagged mass of pain that accompanied the words.

 

“You're not horrible," Harry said firmly. "Er - I'm really sorry, Draco. I mean it. I've been so sorry this whole time -"

 

"I'm sorry, too," Draco said hoarsely. "I was being such a prat!"

 

"I started it, though, then all the stuff in Flourish and Blotts -"

 

"But I shouldn't have said that stuff about your secrets," Draco said, his cheeks pinkening. "I know I shouldn't have, I just wanted to make you as angry as I was… Severus had me scrubbing cauldrons all weekend for it!"

 

"He assigned me a stupidly long essay," Harry said with a knowing smile.

 

"I wouldn't have actually done it, you know," Draco said quickly. "I just wanted to hurt you back. I would never do that, never."

 

"I know."

 

Harry truly believed him. If Draco was going to do something, he'd have revealed all he knew about the Dursleys during the actual fight. Harry tilted his head and shuffled his feet hesitantly. "So… friends?"

 

"Yeah. Friends." Draco nodded rather jerkily, and if he hadn’t looked so thoroughly miserable the curl of his lips could almost be construed as a smile.

 

Draco pulled out of Harry’s arms and sat down on the floor with his back against the wall. Feeling generally like you shouldn’t leave someone alone when they were this upset, Harry took a seat next to him and stared at the door that led to the hallway. If someone walked in and saw this they’d be all sorts of confused, Harry thought.

 

“I didn’t want to be angry with you,” Draco whispered, not looking at Harry. “I realised you didn’t send it recently, eventually, but it was from Weasley, of all people, and - everything is just so hard!”

 

Draco drew his knees close to his chest and hid his face. Harry awkwardly reached an arm out and placed it on his shoulder.

 

“Look, don’t worry about it. Honestly.” After a moment of hesitation, Harry asked, “What’s your problem with Ron, though?”

 

Draco made an angry growling noise. “I just can’t stand stupid Weasley, okay?”

 

“Why?” Harry asked. “I don’t get it! What has he done to you that I haven’t?”

 

“Are you forgetting about his father?” Draco demanded. He at last lifted his head and scowled at Harry. “He’s the one who authorised the search that jailed my parents!”

 

“But that isn't Ron's fault!” Harry protested.

 

“Well he’s not exactly put out about it, is he?”

 

“But don’t you think that hating Ron for stuff his dad does is the same as when people are mean to you for things your parents did?” Harry pointed out.

 

Draco abruptly broke eye contact and started staring at the ground. He was silent for several moments. “I hadn’t thought about it that way. Damn you, Potter!”

 

“What?”

 

“You just always have to go and make things more complicated, don’t you?” Draco muttered, burying his face in his knees again.

 

Oops. Harry cringed as he heard a sniffle, and realised that Draco was crying again. A feeling of slight panic crept over Harry. He hadn’t meant to set him off… What was he meant to do now? Upon closer examination, he also realised that Draco’s knuckles were reddened and bleeding. Harry glanced up to the shattered mirror on the wall, realised that Draco must have punched it, and felt the panic worsen. He had forgotten about Draco's destructive tendencies when he got upset, where he flew into a violent rage without any control over his actions. What was he supposed to do if Draco started punching stuff, or throwing things like he had on Harry’s second day at Spinner’s End? Harry couldn’t think of a single thing to do other than keep his arm around Draco’s shoulder, hoping it would provide any kind of clearly-needed comfort.

 

“I hate them,” Draco whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I hate them, and I hate Father! Why did he have to do this?"

 

Draco's voice broke and his sniffles began to climb in frequency. Harry just didn't know what to say. He had never felt so helpless.

 

Moments later, the door burst open. Harry snapped his head towards it, expecting an irate Slytherin to harass him for daring to be down in the dungeons. Instead, a familiar flurry of black robes graced his sight, and Harry’s shoulders sagged with relief. Snape was here at last, and Harry had never been so happy to see him.

 

Snape took in the scene before him quickly, eyes darting across the room. He looked from Draco’s hunched form to Harry, whose arm was still around Draco’s shoulders, and his mouth actually fell open slightly. Harry quickly withdrew his hand and shot Snape a look, as if to say, what else was I meant to do?!

 

Snape seemed to recover his wits quickly and hurried forwards. He crouched down at Draco’s side, took his bloodied hand and muttered some healing spells that restored it to the proper state. He shook his head.

 

"We've discussed this, haven't we?" Snape's tone was chiding, but there was no real heat behind it. "Mindscapes, Draco, especially in times like this."

 

Harry didn't have the faintest clue what Snape was talking about, but Draco nodded without looking up. Snape remained crouched at Draco's side, watching him intently - for what, Harry wasn't sure. Over a minute later, Snape finally spoke.

 

“Let’s not sit in here,” he said quietly. “Why don’t we head to my quarters, where you can have some privacy?”

 

Draco got to his feet almost mechanically. His limbs moved jerkily, like he wasn’t in complete control of their course, and his head remained bowed. Snape put one arm around his shoulder and used his free hand to crook a finger at Harry. “You. Come.”

 

Harry almost immediately decided he was somehow in trouble for something, but quickly did his best to dispel that impression as he followed Snape through the dungeons. He spent the entire journey steering Draco in the right direction, as the other boy seemed completely lost in thought and unable to navigate. Harry trailed slightly behind them, unsure what his place in all this was. Why hadn’t Draco immediately insisted upon Harry being sent away when Snape arrived? Goodness knew Harry wouldn’t want Draco to see him so upset - or anyone, really…

 

Harry’s musings were cut short as they arrived at Snape’s office. He led them straight through, barely pausing to adjust his pace as he approached directly at a bookshelf behind his desk. To Harry’s shock, the shelf sprang to one side as Snape strode towards it, revealing a mahogany door with a polished golden handle. Snape held one hand on the top of the doorknob for a few seconds, and it abruptly glowed green. The door swung open, and the three of them stepped into the quarters within.

 

Compared to Snape’s office, which was dark, cold and full of creepy dead things in jars, his quarters were actually rather nice. The whole place was made of the same dark stone as the rest of the dungeons, but the walls were almost entirely covered by bookshelves, and the floors were carpeted by a variety of green and silver rugs. Harry wasn’t surprised by the Slytherin colours.

 

Unlike the small, claustrophobic rooms that characterised Spinner’s End, Snape’s quarters were wide open and spacious. They had entered into a living room with leather furniture surrounding a crackling fire, which led into a dining room with a reasonably large wooden table. There was also a small kitchenette, which didn’t contain much more than a few cupboards and a sink. Harry supposed Snape didn't need to cook when all meals were served in the Great Hall. There was an open door adjoining the dining room, through which Harry could just about make out the shape of a few cauldrons, and a small hallway which Harry suspected led to Snape’s bedroom.

 

The whole place generally felt a lot more lived in than Spinner’s End did. There were decorations, like a painting of a stormy sea, several half-read books lying around and oddly enough, a wicker basket full of cat toys that had been pushed beneath the stool of an upright piano at the left of the fireplace.

 

“Harry, are you going to sit down, or are you going to stand in the middle of the room interminably?” Snape asked sharply. Harry jolted back to awareness and realised that Snape and Draco had sat down on the sofa. Well, Snape was seated. Draco had just curled in on himself again, feet drawn onto the cushions, head buried in his knees. Harry quickly joined them, although he left a decent gap between himself, Snape and Draco. He didn’t want to intrude.

 

From there, they proceeded to sit in dead silence for twenty minutes.

 

Harry knew twenty minutes had passed because he continually glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece, which was ticking down the seconds with almost painful sluggishness. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be doing here, but every time Harry opened his mouth to ask a question, Snape cut him off with a violent shake of his head. In the end, Harry resigned himself to accept the quiet until either Snape or Draco broke it, and occupied himself with the matter of picking at a hangnail and thinking.

 

Harry wasn’t even sure what he’d do or say if the silence ever lifted, though. Draco’s father facing life in prison wasn’t something that could be fixed with comforting words or a reassurance that things would be alright since in all likelihood, they wouldn’t be. In fact, the stifling, unbearable tension in the room reminded Harry horribly of the atmosphere amongst the Weasleys last June, when they’d thought Ginny was dead in the Chamber of Secrets. Percy, Fred, George and Ron had all gone a ghostly white under their freckles, eyes dead, shoulders hunched. Harry had hovered on the fringes of their grief, feeling completely powerless.

 

But there had been something he could do. There was a Chamber of Secrets to discover, a living Ginny to save, and a solution to the problem. There was absolutely nothing Harry could do to fix the issue of Lucius Malfoy.

 

Draco was grieving, that much was clear. Even though Lucius Malfoy wasn’t actually dead, if he got condemned to life in Azkaban, that probably would kill him. Harry remembered Hagrid after he’d returned from Azkaban, all shaken and drained, and he also remembered the stories Hagrid had told of what it was like there. The dementors drove people mad within months. The Malfoy from prison certainly wouldn’t be anything like the father Draco knew with a bit of time…

 

At long last, muffled speech began to come from the crumpled ball that was Draco. “They took all of our money. He won’t be able to afford a decent solicitor, will he?”

 

Snape wrapped an arm around Draco’s shoulders, a surprisingly affectionate gesture for someone who Harry often thought of as quite closed off. “The Ministry is legally obligated to provide him with a public defender.”

 

Draco choked out a hoarse, disbelieving laugh. “A public defender! Well, that will certainly get him off those terrorism charges…”

 

He at last lifted his head, eyes so red and puffy you could scarcely see the grey colour of his eyes.

 

“I really believed it, Severus,” he whispered. “I honestly thought he’d been under the Imperius Curse the whole time, that he hadn’t wanted to serve the Dark Lord… but he lied, didn’t he? Father really did all of those awful things they put in the article.”

 

Snape didn’t respond. He gave Draco an immensely sad look.

 

“Please be honest with me,” Draco said quietly.

 

Snape hesitated before he spoke. “You have to understand that the Prophet sensationalises these things. While Lucius may have participated in what they listed, he was not single handedly responsible -”

 

“Severus, please,” Draco interrupted. “That’s not - it doesn’t matter. Was he Cursed, or did he do it willingly? I need to be certain, and I’d rather hear it from you, Severus. You’d know more than anyone.”

 

Snape paused for a moment, and then slowly nodded. “I don’t have any reason to believe he acted under duress in the war. I’m sorry, Draco.”

 

Harry was incredibly confused, as he still wasn’t entirely sure what the Imperius Curse did or why Snape would know more than anyone if Lucius Malfoy was under it. As Draco’s face had just crumpled into a look of abject despair, he made a mental note to ask Snape about it at a later time.

 

“I’m so stupid!” Draco hissed, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “How did I not put it together? Why didn’t I realise that if he agreed with all of the Dark Lord’s ideals, he was probably following him willingly? I believed - I wanted to believe he couldn’t do the things people said he did, and I feel like a complete fool! Why did I believe him?”

 

“It can be… hard to accept certain things about our fathers,” Snape said slowly. “We automatically idolise them, and see ourselves in them. When they fail to meet our expectations, it can be immeasurably hurtful.”

 

“I don’t particularly like Muggles, but… these things are so violent,” Draco whispered. He pulled a newspaper out of his robes and wrenched it open. “Torture? Murder of Ministry officials? And - and the stuff about the children -”

 

“Don’t keep reading it,” Snape said firmly, taking the newspaper from Draco’s grasp and thrusting it at Harry. He quickly shoved it down the side of the sofa so it was hidden from view. “Reading it over and over isn’t going to undo what Lucius did.”

 

“But how could he do these things to someone?” Draco’s voice was so pained it actually made Harry wince. “I mean… Muggles can’t fight back!”

 

“When you become so blinded by prejudice, it becomes easier to forget such things,” Snape said heavily. “That is why I’m so insistent on you confronting your own thoughts on Muggles and Muggleborns. This is where that sort of bigotry can lead.”

 

“It doesn’t matter if what I think has changed, though,” Draco whispered. “Everyone thinks I’m just like my father, so what’s the point of trying?”

 

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

 

Draco slumped in on himself and lapsed into pensive silence for several more long minutes before he jolted up like he’d had a sudden realisation. His eyes were bright with sheer desperation. “I can’t face them, Severus, I can’t. Please don’t make me go back into the dungeons, please…”

 

Snape nodded, although the reluctance on his face was obvious. “Just for tonight, I suppose you can stay here.”

 

“Thank you,” Draco said quietly, bowing his head. While he did so, Harry stared wide-eyed at Snape, hoping he’d pick up on the fact that Harry had something to tell him.

 

“Are you alright here for a moment, Draco?” Snape asked. “I need a quick word with Harry in my study.”

 

Draco nodded, and pulled himself up. “Right. Yes. I should probably clean up and wash my face in the meantime…”

 

“We’ll return soon.”

 

For the first time ever Harry was immensely grateful for Snape’s ability to read him. Both of them got to their feet and made their way into Snape’s office, only stopping to pick up the abandoned newspaper. When the door shut behind them, Snape waved his wand at it in a circular motion.

 

“Privacy Charm,” he explained, setting the newspaper down on his desk. “I see the two of you have made up?”

 

“I think so,” Harry said. “I hope so, at least.”

 

Snape nodded briskly, looking slightly relieved. “So, why did you call me in here?”

 

“Um…” Harry shuffled his feet and bit his lip, unsure if what he was about to reveal would break his and Draco’s fragile new truce again.

 

“Spit it out, Harry, I don’t have all day!” Snape said exasperatedly.

 

“I just don’t want him to be annoyed at me for telling you,” Harry said, wrapping his arms around himself.

 

“And that comment has just solidified the fact that you are not leaving this office until you tell me precisely what is going on with him,” Snape said in a low voice. He took a step forward so that he took up Harry’s entire eyeline.

 

Harry groaned. “But we just made up!”

 

“I will do my best to hide that this information comes from you - I give you my word,” Snape said, tapping his finger against the side of his desk. “I must insist you tell me, Harry. I get the impression this is rather serious?”

 

Harry nodded and sucked in a breath. “Er - theSlytherinsarekindabullyinghim.”

 

“I beg your pardon?” Snape asked, giving Harry an exasperated look. “Slow down.”

 

“The Slytherins are bullying him,” he said reluctantly. “Some older ones. I saw them in the dungeons after I had detention, hexing him and stuff…”

 

“Indeed.” Snape’s eyes darkened. “And why didn’t you inform me of this as soon as you witnessed it?”

 

“Erm - well, we kind of got into an argument because I fought them off him and he didn’t like that,” Harry admitted. “But look, I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

 

Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I suppose you are… well, thank you for bringing this to my attention. Why are you doing so now, though?”

 

“I just thought it might explain why he didn’t want to go back to the dungeons,” Harry said. “I obviously don’t see what’s going on in the common room but I bet it’s miserable for him. None of his housemates speak to him in lessons anymore and Hermione said he’s in the library all the time, nowadays. I think he’s hiding.”

 

Snape’s face became rather grim. “I am inclined to agree, unfortunately…”

 

“He’s really not having a good time of it right now, sir,” Harry said quietly.

 

“He certainly is not.” Snape sighed again, and Harry was abruptly struck by how exhausted he looked. “I must say, Harry, I am proud of how you came to his aid today, despite your numerous differences.”

 

Harry couldn’t help it - he smiled. The words Snape had spoken had sent a warm glow spreading throughout his chest. He hadn’t helped Draco just to make Snape proud, of course, but it was remarkably nice to hear all the same.

 

“It seemed like the right thing to do,” he said eventually.

 

“Some people are less scrupulous than you are,” Snape said with a shake of his head. “Now unfortunately, I cannot be around at all hours of the day, and I know that Slytherins can be particularly vicious. They will not rat each other out to me, and I highly doubt Draco will tell me who has been mistreating him. Therefore, I may have to offer a more drastic measure.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I may suggest he moves into my quarters until after the trial takes place,” Snape said, tapping a finger against his chin thoughtfully.

 

Harry gave Snape a surprised look. “That’s allowed?”

 

“As I’m his guardian, yes,” Snape explained. “It’s not entirely uncommon in cases where students have a parent on staff, as a matter of fact. Professor Sprout’s daughter stayed with her instead of in the Hufflepuff dormitories many years ago due to some personal issues, and I know Professor Sinistra’s son will sometimes stay with his mother in her quarters.”

 

That surprised Harry a little. He supposed he’d never really thought about the families Hogwarts professors had, since they lived in the school.

 

“Why are you telling me?” Harry asked with a frown.

 

“We three are rather interlinked, now,” Snape said. “You, like Draco, are my ward, so you both ought to accept a degree of involvement in one another’s affairs. Perhaps if we all spoke more it would prevent conflicts like the one that arose because of that letter.”

 

Harry winced. “Yeah…”

 

“I also need to request something of you because of these circumstances,” Snape added.

 

Harry looked at him thoughtfully. “What is it?”

 

“Due to my duties in the school, I’m often not in my quarters,” Snape said. “I cannot entirely cut back on my responsibilities to amend that, so there will often be stretches where he is alone. I don’t wish for him to become a complete recluse, so would you occasionally come and visit here?”

 

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “I mean we’ve made up, but we’re not exactly best friends. I don’t think he’d even want me there…”

 

Snape looked at Harry for a long moment. “Draco is a lot more fond of you than he would ever care to admit, Harry. I would have happily sent you from my quarters if he had requested it, which he certainly would have insisted upon if he truly didn't desire your presence, but he chose to have you here. That means something.”

 

“Oh.” Harry still felt a bit confused. He supposed Draco had said he hadn’t wanted to be angry at Harry this whole time, but he often seemed to go between great extremes of like and hatred when it came to people. Honestly, Harry had just assumed up until now that Draco merely tolerated him. Perhaps he’d enjoyed their time together over the summer just as much as Harry had, then…

 

“I’ll come down sometimes,” Harry promised. “Is he going to be alright eventually?”

 

“I hope so,” Snape said, steepling his fingers. “I’m sure you can imagine that the next few months are going to be remarkably difficult for him, given the publicity of the case.”

 

“Definitely.” Harry’s brow furrowed. “What’s the Imperius Curse again? Ron’s mentioned it a couple times but I’m never quite sure.”

 

“An Unforgivable Curse that allows the caster to have complete control over the actions of the victim,” Snape explained. “Lucius claimed that the Dark Lord used the Imperius Curse on him in the war. A lie, of course.”

 

Harry frowned. “And how are you so sure? Why did Draco say you’d know more than anyone if his dad was under it?”

 

Snape hesitated for a long time before responding. “I… I have known Lucius for a very long time. Now, I assume there is a rather large stack of unfinished homework sitting in some neglected corner of Gryffindor Tower? Including, perhaps, that Polyjuice essay?”

 

Confused by the sudden change of topic, Harry couldn’t convincingly look like that wasn’t true. Snape made a disapproving noise. “You ought to go and attend to that, then.”

 

He frowned. “But what about -”

 

“Draco will be fine,” Snape said. “At any rate, I need to discuss the new living arrangements I’ve planned with him.”

 

“Er - does he know about the Polyjuice thing?” Harry asked hesitantly.

 

“I informed him after we spoke.” Snape scowled. “Polyjuice - of all the things…”

 

Harry winced. He got the sudden, unshakeable impression that Snape was never going to let that one go.

 

“Now, go and say goodbye to Draco, and I’ll show you the second entrance to my quarters,” Snape said, heading for the door.

 

“There’s a second entrance?”

 

“Yes, behind a portrait of a snake in the corridor outside,” Snape explained. “It would be imprudent for you to go in and out of my office constantly, since it’s often in use. I’ll also show Draco.”

 

“Er - and you won’t mention that I told you about those older students?” Harry said quickly as Snape turned on his heel to leave.

 

“I won’t,” he said. “I’ll come up with some sort of alternate reason, and ensure he has no suspicions towards you. Now, follow me.”

 

He strode back through the office door, and Harry closely followed. Draco didn’t even look up as they walked in. His hair and face were slightly damp, like he’d stuck his head directly under a tap.

 

“Come over here, Draco,” Snape said, striding through the stone archway into his second office. “I want to show you both how to get in and out of here without using my office.”

 

Harry followed Snape, and could hear Draco’s footsteps rapping on the stone floors as he trailed behind. Snape stopped them both next to an oddly square doorway and got out his wand.

 

“Your hands, please.”

 

Harry and Draco both extended their hands. Snape tapped his wand to both of their palms and waved his wand in a zigzagging motion in front of the square door, which made the handle glow green. “There. You’re both keyed into my wards, but you’ll still need a password. At the moment, it is ‘asphodel’, although I change it regularly and will alert you when I do so. Simply say it to the portrait of a snake to the left of my office door, and you’ll be allowed entry.”

 

“Alright,” Harry said as Snape put his wand away.

 

“You ought to be going, Harry.”

 

“Right.” He turned to the miserable-looking Draco and hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “I’m sorry you’re going through this."

 

“So am I,” Draco said dully.

 

“I’ll come and see you soon,” Harry promised. “Bye."

 

Draco simply nodded at him and didn’t respond as Harry walked through the square doorway. As it turned out, it was shaped in that way because it was actually a portrait on a hinge, which swung open like the Fat Lady did as Harry clambered through.

 

When the portrait swung shut, an oil painting of a cobra observed him malevolently. “I see my sleep will just constantly be disturbed in this wretched place…”

 

“Er - sorry,” Harry said, before quickly beginning to make his way back out of the dungeons and up to Gryffindor Tower. He couldn’t help but feel like Snape had rushed him out because of the questions Harry had been asking. Just how closely involved was Snape with Lucius, anyway, and why did he not want to talk about it?

 

Luckily for Harry, the Fat Lady was far less offended by being asked to actually do her job, and let Harry in with minimal sniping. As soon as he entered the common room, Ron and Hermione began frantically waving him over. Harry winced as he went to join them in their usual armchairs, only then realising that he’d sprinted out of the Great Hall without giving them any sort of explanation.

 

“Where did you go?” Ron demanded. “One minute we were all eating, the next we saw you running out of the Great Hall!”

 

“Er - sorry,” Harry said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Don’t worry about that, it was nothing.”

 

“It didn’t look like nothing!” Ron said. “You absolutely legged it.”

 

“It almost looked like you were running after Malfoy,” Hermione said, brow creased.

 

“Er,” Harry said, feeling slightly panicked.

 

Hermione’s expression instantly morphed into one of horror. “Were you?!”

 

“I mean - after that article and everything, he seemed so upset…”

 

“Mate, why would you even care?” Ron demanded. “It’s Malfoy!”

 

“Well I didn’t see anyone else going after him!” Harry protested. “Someone had to!”

 

“But why does that have to be you?” Ron hissed. “He’s a right git! Why would you ever bother being nice to the likes of him?”

 

“Because if I’m bloody well living with him for the next few summers, I’d rather not be at his throat all the time!” Harry said angrily. “All the fighting is completely exhausting, it’s just easier to get on with him, alright? Can you just leave it?”

 

When Harry finished, neither Hermione or Ron spoke. They were staring at him, mouths agape.

 

“Harry…” Hermione said slowly. “What do you mean you’re living with Malfoy for the next few summers?”

 

Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t believe that had just slipped out!

 

“I’d kind of like to know that, too,” Ron added.

 

“This wasn’t how I wanted to tell you, but yeah,” Harry said heavily. “Er - so you know how I mentioned Snape found out about the Dursleys? Well… um, because of all that he’s been put as my guardian.”

 

“What?” Ron demanded.

 

“That’s awful!” Hermione exclaimed.

 

“No, don’t worry,” Harry said quickly. “I don’t mind that much, honestly. He’s way better than the Dursleys were, at any rate.”

 

This comment did not seem to alleviate Ron and Hermione’s fears. If anything, their expressions grew more concerned.

 

“Harry,” Hermione said timidly. “That’s not a good standard to judge by.”

 

“This is Snape!” Ron added. “He’s been bullying you in classes for the last two years! He’s just going to abuse his power -”

 

“He’s changed,” Harry interrupted. “I meant it when I said he was decent to me this summer. If I had a problem with this I’d tell you!”

 

“But why didn't you tell us about this sooner, Harry?” Hermione asked, her eyes crinkled with worry. “That sort of makes me think you do have a problem with it!”

 

“It wasn’t because of anything bad, it was just because I’m still trying to get my head around it all myself, okay?” Harry said. “I know how weird this all sounds, but I’m not bothered by the whole situation. Besides, there weren’t any other options!”

 

“But Harry, my parents would have agreed to let you stay with them in a heartbeat!” Ron said, his face falling. “They’re an option!”

 

“Dumbledore didn’t agree, apparently,” Harry said wearily. “I don’t think Snape would have agreed to get stuck with me if there was someone else, anyway. It’s just the way things are. But look, it’s really not bad. We get on now.”

 

Ron and Hermione did not look particularly impressed by this, still. They had started to exchange dark looks which only served to irritate Harry, who felt like all of his answers were woefully inadequate. He didn’t know how to explain all of it - how Snape had been the first person to ever bother taking care of him properly, how he hated making Snape angry and felt happy when Snape said he was proud earlier, and as much as he wanted to say it aloud, Harry couldn’t find the words to tell Ron and Hermione that he actually liked Snape now.

 

Still, part of Harry didn’t think he should have to justify it at all. Why couldn’t they just trust him when he said he was fine?

 

“Also, you can’t tell anyone about this,” Harry said eventually. “The only other people who know are the Hogwarts staff and I think your parents, Ron. People at the Ministry apparently might start bidding for my custody if they found out I don’t have a guardian, so you cannot tell anyone else, alright? You have to promise.”

 

“I promise,” Ron and Hermione both said together.

 

Hermione gave him a very sad look. “Oh, Harry!”

 

He scowled. “It’s really not that bad! I do know what a bad guardian looks like, and Snape’s not it, okay?”

 

“I know you know what a bad guardian looks like,” Hermione said slowly, “but would you know what a good one should do?”

 

“Yes,” Harry said, suddenly feeling incredibly frustrated. “Look, I’m fine, okay? Just stop worrying! I don’t know why you can’t just trust me!”

 

He stormed away to his dormitory without another word and drew the hangings tightly around his bed, feeling so frustrated. He knew this was going to develop into a really big problem. It seemed that the moment one aspect of Harry’s life finally came together, another was always destined to spectacularly fall apart.