Harry was supremely glad to not be Draco Malfoy in the weeks following the trial. 

 

In Harry’s opinion, every element of the other boy’s life was falling apart. If the Slytherins had been bad before, they were insufferable now, egged on by the slew of Daily Prophet articles rehashing the trial. From the rumours Harry had heard, Snape had given them a lecture about behaving following the verdict, but none of the Slytherins seemed inclined to listen to him. Worst of all, they were too smart to do anything in front of Snape’s face. 

 

The jeering and whispering was relentless, even in lessons. While the Slytherins didn’t dare to come after one of their own under the hawklike surveillance of Snape during Potions, the same barriers did not apply in Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid’s confidence, which had been horribly shaken after the Buckbeak incident, meant that he had a difficult time controlling a class, particularly when that class was full of gleeful, spiteful Slytherins. Draco’s misery seemed to bring them immense joy, and every single one of his classmates save for a quiet, stringy boy who Harry thought was named Nott seemed hellbent on tormenting him.

 

There was no relief for Draco at home, either. Snape’s reserves of patience with Draco’s situation had been thoroughly exhausted by the Ministry incident, and he was now forced to spend nearly every night in some sort of brewing detention with Snape, where he completed a multitude of menial tasks while being lectured about respect and manipulation. Harry couldn’t help but be surprised by this slightly harsh punishment. He wouldn’t have expected Snape to take Draco doing something hurtful to Harry so seriously…

 

He couldn’t help but feel a little bad for Draco, though. Harry’s only punishments had consisted of a series of snide comments about his decision-making skills and being fitted with a new tracker, which was reinforced with a series of anti-destruction spells. It also now featured a new, oval-shaped carving which would make Snape’s corresponding bangle heat up if Harry pressed it to alert him to trouble. All in all, Harry had received far worse punishments for far less. Draco, on the other hand, seemed to be in detention for the foreseeable future. 

 

When Draco wasn’t gutting flobberworms and dissecting dragon hearts, he was drowning in a pile of incomplete schoolwork that he’d neglected during his angry January period. Snape had ordered Draco to get it done immediately, and he at last seemed willing to comply. The fight from before had died out.

 

Everything seemed to have died out of Draco, really.

 

Something was wrong. Draco was walking around like he was the one who had been sentenced to life behind bars. The spark of life in his eyes had been snuffed out, and it was like Harry was looking at some kind of ghost… a ghost who simply sat through Snape’s detentions, stared dully at his incomplete essays, and stared into the Forbidden Forest without saying anything while Blaise Zabini made snide comments about Hippogriffs and classic Malfoy cowardice.

 

Harry didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know who to talk to - certainly not Snape, who seemed to think that Draco ought to be behaving with a degree of contrition. Harry couldn’t help but suspect it was more than some well-placed remorse for breaking into the Ministry, though. Something wasn’t right. There was this horrible cloud of numbness hovering over Draco, leaving him an empty shell of his former self.

 

The first sign of a break out of this was on Friday afternoon, when Harry was returning to his bedroom after the day’s lessons but was stopped short by a ragged gasp. He remained frozen in place in the centre of the hallway, listening carefully, then heard another sniffle. Suppressing a sigh, Harry pushed the door to Draco’s bedroom open.

 

He found the other boy slumped halfway down the wall with his hands covering his face. When the hinges creaked, he started and looked up, revealing suspiciously red eyes. When he realised it was Harry, Draco went back to staring at the floor again.

 

“Erm - are you okay?” Harry asked awkwardly.

 

“Does it look like it?!” Draco snapped, hunching further down. 

 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, shifting from foot to foot.

 

Draco just shook his head, scrubbed his hands over his face, then pointed his wand at a pile of broken glass next to his nightstand. He muttered several repairing Charms and picked up a crumpled photograph from the floor, which he carefully smoothed the creases out of. It was the Malfoy family photograph that he always kept in prime position on his bedside table, although the three blondes were currently hiding in the edge of the photograph, glowering at Draco. He’d smashed the frame, it seemed.

 

After placing his picture back in its rightful place, Draco fell face-first onto his bed.

 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, voice muffled. “I can’t, Harry. I thought it was going to get better after the trial!”

 

“What’s been happening now?” Harry asked, alarmed.

 

“Zabini,” Draco said bitterly. He twisted his head so that he was more audible. “Some dratted Witch Weekly journalist decided it would be brilliant to publish word-for-word transcripts of the trial. Professor Flitwick was late, and Zabini decided to use the opportunity for a dramatic recreation of my father begging… complete with jeering from everybody in my class, of course…”

 

“That’s horrid!” Harry said indignantly. “What gives them any right to treat you this way? I thought they were your friends!”

 

“Were.” Draco’s legs curled in, so he was hugging them to his chest. 

 

“But why?!” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why would they turn on you like this?”

 

“It’s my fault.” Draco’s eyes went dull.

 

Harry glared at him. “Shut up! You didn’t do all those crimes -”

 

“No, no, not that,” Draco interrupted, waving one hand at him impatiently. “It’s my fault for being such a little snot my first two years here. You remember how annoying I used to be. I’m sure you can imagine how thrilled everyone is, now that they don’t have to suck up to the Malfoy heir to make Mummy and Daddy happy… Instead, they get to have their stupid revenge, and I’m stuck all by myself.”

 

“You’re not alone,” Harry corrected, sitting on the end of Draco’s bed. “You have me. Severus, too.”

 

If anything, the sadness on Draco’s face just grew more profound. He stared into the distance, a hand rhythmically rubbing up and down his arm.

 

“It’s different,” he said quietly. “You two are legally obligated to be stuck with me.”

 

Harry sighed, and just reached out to lay a hand on Draco’s shoulder. He still didn’t know what to say to make this better… if there was anything to say at all, of course, which Harry doubted.

 

“I think you should tell Severus about all of this,” Harry said.

 

Draco shot upright very quickly. He shook off Harry’s arm and fixed him with an indignant expression. “As if!”

 

“But -”

 

“I am not telling bloody Severus,” Draco snapped.

 

Harry frowned. “Why not? You know how scary he is - he’ll intimidate them into leaving you alone, easy -”

 

“And how is that going to work out for me once Severus isn’t in the room, Potter?” Draco asked. “You’re a Gryffindor - you lot spend enough time whingeing about Slytherins to know that we can be quite vicious! Don’t tell me for a second that you’d grass up your classmates if they were treating you horribly!”

 

“Well - well no, but -”

 

“I would quite like to move back into the Slytherin dormitory sometime, you know!” Draco added, voice climbing in volume. “How am I meant to do that if I run crying to my guardian with any little problem? They’ll hate me even more! The best thing to do is to just roll over and take it until they get interested in something else. Maybe I can win them over with the Slytherin versus Ravenclaw match? I don’t know… I could single-handedly win the Quidditch Cup, and I bet they’d all still hate me…”

 

Harry stared at Draco, a funny ache spreading throughout his chest. He had enough experience with Dudley to know precisely how useful ‘roll over and take it’ was as a defensive technique. 

 

He knew it meant that Draco had given up.

 

Seeing Draco in a state like this felt physically painful. Harry felt simultaneously upset and outraged by the treatment he was being subjected to - and so undeservedly, too! Just when Draco was changing, and when he had moved on from the bigoted little prat of before to the far nicer person he was now, he was being punished by the world in response.

 

Draco scowled furiously at Harry. “Stop pitying me. Merlin’s balls, if that’s how I look when I feel sorry for you, I can finally understand why you hate it so much…”

 

“Sorry.” Harry grimaced, and made a noticeable effort to school his features. “But I still think you should tell Severus -”

 

“Considering all the stuff you like to hide from him, I don’t think you have any right to lecture me about what I do and don’t tell him,” Draco retorted. “Stay out of it, Harry - I mean it. I want to deal with this myself.”

 

“Alright,” Harry agreed reluctantly.

 

Draco sighed mournfully. “Besides, it’s not like Severus would care anyway…”

 

Harry frowned. “What do you mean he wouldn’t care? Of course he would!”

 

Draco scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. You’ve seen the way Severus has been with me recently! He barely even looks at me after what I did, breaking into the Ministry like that and dragging you along with me… he’d probably just say I deserve it, after everything I’ve done…”

 

“Severus wouldn’t!” Harry said indignantly. “Maybe he’s angry, yeah, but he’d be really angry if he found out what they’re doing to you!”

 

“Severus thinks I deserve it,” Draco said dully, “and so do I. Just go away, Harry.”

 

“But -”

 

“Go!”

 

There was an inexplicable wave of force, and Harry found himself stumbling over the threshold, the door slamming shut in his face. He shuffled into his own bedroom and slumped in his desk chair. 

 

What was he supposed to do? Harry wasn’t going to go behind Draco’s back and snitch to Snape, but he also refused to sit back and just let Draco take it… so what was there to do?

 

But, as Harry discovered in Care of Magical Creatures on Monday, there was one thing Draco hadn’t banned Harry from doing - taking matters into his own hands.

 

It wasn’t a conscious decision that Harry had made, really. After spending an entire weekend staring at Draco’s closed bedroom door, a low-burning anger had been lit in his core. It was ready to ignite at the slightest provocation…

 

And Harry was finally goaded into exploding during Care of Magical Creatures on Monday.

 

Perhaps the Slytherins were feeling particularly emboldened by Draco’s pacifism, or perhaps they were feeling especially vicious; Harry couldn’t be certain. Either way, they used Hagrid’s class as a great cover to attack Draco with a slew of insults. 

 

Harry knew that today would already be difficult for Draco - they were dealing with fire salamanders, who resided in the low-burning embers of a few small campfires that Hagrid had lit. Harry watched his brother nervously, worried he’d be set off by his old hatred of fires, but even this couldn’t seem to pierce the bubble of misery encircling Draco. He stared at his creatures with empty eyes, looking downtrodden and dejected.

 

The Slytherins were also watching him closely, presumably looking for an opening to insult him. After a fire salamander accidentally shot a tiny jet of fire at Dracos’ finger, causing him to hiss in pain, that opening presented itself. Zabini’s face twisted into a sneer.

 

“Are you going to start blubbering like dear old dad, Malfoy?” he taunted.

 

Draco’s shoulders hunched further over the magical creature he was attending to, lips pursed. He stayed silent, even as all the Slytherins snickered and smirked, and Harry’s hands curled into fists. 

 

“Don’t you have anything better to do, Zabini?” Harry snapped before he could help himself. “Leave him alone!” 

 

Several Slytherins jeered, and Zabini’s eyes darted from Draco to Harry. “And what’s it to you, Potter? Since when do you give a damn about Malfoy?”

 

“I just prefer not spending my afternoons listening to your sorry excuses for insults, Zabini,” Harry said tetchily. “Hearing you speak is more painful than listening to the Fat Lady sing, and believe me, that’s saying something…”

 

Several Gryffindors laughed, and Zabini narrowed his eyes. “Upset about your little boyfriend’s feelings, Potter?”

 

“Alright - stop chatterin’, everyone!” Hagrid said nervously, flapping his enormous hands. “Back ter work!”

 

The Slytherins returned to their fire salamanders, excluding Draco. He was staring at Harry furiously.

 

“Leave it,” he said through gritted teeth, stomping across the grass. 

 

“He has a point, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “You getting involved is just going to encourage them -”

 

“I don’t care,” Harry spat, jabbing at his campfire with a stick. “They shouldn’t be treating Draco like this!”

 

“They shouldn’t, but remember who you are to them, Harry!” Hermione pleaded. “How will it look if Harry Potter, of all people, starts coming to his defence? It’ll just egg them on!”

 

Harry didn’t respond, and kept stabbing at the campfire, disturbing the poor fire salamanders terribly. He wished that Draco would do something about the stupid Slytherins already…

 

The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood on end. The Slytherins’ whispers had suddenly cut off. That couldn’t be good. Harry looked up, and scanned the other half of the students…

 

Just in time to see Draco shriek, his cloak engulfed in flames.

 

“Draco!” Harry shouted, running across the field with his wand in hand. 

 

Before he could reach his brother, however, Harry heard Hermione shout, “Aguamenti!” 

 

A jet of water hit Draco’s cloak, dousing the flames in an instant, leaving just a few curling strands of smoke. This didn’t calm Draco in the slightest. He struggled with the clasp at his throat, then yanked the cloak from his shoulders and threw it as far away from him as physically possible. He was trembling all over, and his chest was heaving.

 

Harry ran to his side. “Are you -”

 

“Get away!” he hissed, shoving Harry hard in the chest. He stumbled back several steps and stared at Draco in horror, unsure of what to do.

 

All of the Slytherins were cackling. Zabini in particular was grinning, wand hanging loosely in his hand.

 

“Look at him!” Pansy Parkinson jeered. “Are you going to cry, Malfoy?”

 

“Now - that’s enough!” Hagrid said uncertainly. He was looking from side to side wildly, trying to pinpoint the attacker with minimal success. “Which one of yeh did that?”

 

The Slytherins were unperturbed by Hagrid; if anything, his questions seemed to embolden them. Zabini took a step forward.

 

“The big baby!” he said, a cruel smile playing about his lips. “Smells just like home, doesn’t it, Malfoy?” 

 

It was like a red mist descended over Harry’s vision. That comment snipped away the last remaining threads of restraint, and all Harry knew was that he wanted some sort of justice, punishment, anything to make Zabini think twice before he ever dared to do something like that to Draco again. 

 

In that moment, he forgot everything. Harry forgot he was a wizard with a wand, that Zabini was flanked by the far stronger Crabbe and Goyle, and that Draco wanted him to leave things alone. He flew at the other Zabini, toppling both of them to the ground, and began to punch every inch of exposed flesh he could reach, over and over, not caring for the sharp, painful blows he received in return, he wanted Zabini to hurt -

 

A vicious kick to the side threw Harry off Zabini, gasping for air that would not enter his winded lungs. He pushed himself onto his knees and saw Crabbe, looming overhead, and tried to lunge at him too -

 

Strong arms seized Harry and dragged him backwards, lifting his feet from the ground. Harry flailed around wildly, uncertain of what was happening, and realised that Hagrid was dragging him away.

 

“ENOUGH!” Hagrid had found his voice at last. “ALL OF YEH, STOP - RON, WHAT’RE YEH DOING?”

 

Harry’s jaw dropped as he saw Ron, currently attempting to take on both Crabbe and Goyle singlehandedly with very limited success. Crabbe had already managed to get him in a headlock, and Ron’s nose was bleeding heavily. Harry barely had time to marvel at that bold move before Seamus and Dean got involved, launching themselves at Crabbe and Goyle to get them off Ron; now a cluster of other Slytherins were entering the fray, until the whole class was locked into a vicious, screeching cluster of fists and spellfire -

 

BANG! 

 

The explosion sent Harry flying out of Hagrid’s grasp and onto the grass, where he landed with a thud. He propped himself up gingerly and noticed that everyone else had been thrown into the ground as well, save for one lone figure, standing with her wand raised. It was none other than Professor McGonagall. Her eyes were glinting and steely, and her nostrils were flaring.

 

“What the devil have I just walked into?” she shouted. “Muggle brawling?! Explain yourselves, now!”

 

Harry pressed a hand to his head and grimaced, the last fading heat of fury dissipating from his body. He was in a world of trouble, now…

 

---

 

Harry stared at the cobblestone floor of Snape’s office and ran his tongue over his lip, newly knitted together by Madam Pomfrey. After receiving the bollocking of a lifetime from Professor McGonagall alongside the rest of the third-years, he and Ron, who had been worst injured in the brawl, had been packed off to the Hospital Wing to have their injuries seen to. Ron was still with Madam Pomfrey, having his broken nose mended. Harry, however, had been quickly patched up and delivered into the clutches of one outraged Snape. 

 

Professor McGonagall had, of course, taken the liberty of immediately informing Snape about Harry’s role in starting the brawl that had occurred in Care of Magical Creatures. He hadn’t said anything in the Hospital Wing, of course, but Snape’s jaw was set and rigid as he grabbed Harry by the collar and began to haul him back to the dungeons, to be ‘dealt with at home’ as he put it. Harry resisted the urge to groan as he continued to stare at the ground. He really needed to stop ending up in this position…

 

“Explain yourself,” Snape ordered in a low voice.

 

Harry glared at the ground, but didn’t respond.

 

“Harry.” There was a heavy note of warning in Snape’s voice. “I’m not going to ask again.”

 

“Good. You’ll save yourself a lot of time, since I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry bit out.

 

“Do not cheek me,” Snape growled. “This is your chance to have your side heard out, Harry. I know you do not start fights for no reason. Explain yourself this instant!”

 

But Harry, as much as he thought Draco should go to Snape and explain, knew there was an honour code to things like this. He wasn’t a rat. If Draco, the person who was really suffering from all of this, didn’t want to tell Snape, then Harry wasn’t going to do it for him.

 

“Zabini pissed me off - what more is there to know?!” Harry snapped.

 

“I know that you aren’t telling me the truth,” Snape said tersely. “This isn’t like you.”

 

Snape rounded his desk and stood directly in front of Harry. When he continued to sullenly stare at the ground without responding, Snape firmly tilted his head up so Harry had to meet his eyes. Harry could tell by the tightness in his face that Snape was still very angry, but desperately trying to control himself out of some greater concern.

 

“Well?” he prompted. “I’m waiting.”

 

“Can’t you ever just leave it?” Harry said angrily. 

 

He managed to squirm out of Snape’s grip, then backed away across the room and pressed himself against the wall. He couldn’t make direct eye contact with Snape right now - what if he used Legilimency to skim the truth from the surface of his thoughts? Harry immediately started Occluding, even though he knew that if Snape wanted to get the answers out of him that way, his meagre shields wouldn’t stand in the way. 

 

“Zabini is a dickhead, and that’s all I want to say about it!” he said stubbornly.

 

“Language!”

 

“Oh, come off it!” Harry snapped.

 

“Fine, then!” Snape crossed his arms and glared across the room. “As you are so stubbornly insistent on refusing to explain yourself, then I shall treat you like you incited the incident! A week’s detention with me!”

 

“What?” Harry burst out. “That’s so unfair! I already got detention from Professor McGonagall!”

 

“And this is the punishment I am assigning as your guardian for your shocking conduct in school and for your continual lies,” Snape said harshly.

 

“How am I lying to you?!”

 

“Lying by omission is still lying!” Snape said loudly. “When you tell me the truth, I will be perfectly happy to lessen your punishment…”

 

Harry did not respond. He continued to glare at Snape, furious with him and even more annoyed at Draco and his refusal to do anything about the legions of Slytherins setting themselves against him.

 

“Am I dismissed, sir?” he ground out.

 

“Until such a time as you see fit to tell me the truth, then yes,” Snape stared at him, like he was expecting an answer. “Until then, go to your room.”

 

Harry did not fix him with a response; he wheeled around on his heel, stalked over to the door and slammed it shut behind him. Harry slammed his bedroom door shut, too, but before he could so much as sit down in a huff, Snape wrenched it back open. He looked truly furious now, white-faced and eyes flashing.

 

“If you slam another door in my quarters, those detentions are doubled,” he said angrily.

 

Harry fixed him with a truly withering look, and kept glowering until Snape finally left him alone. Once the man had disappeared, he took it upon himself to kick his desk chair several times, trying to dissipate some of the fizzling, furious energy that was building inside him yet again.

 

It was all just so stupid! Harry wished he’d had longer to beat in Zabini’s stupid, smug face before Hagrid had dragged him away…

 

In the end, Harry spent all of the afternoon and evening sequestered in his bedroom. He even ate a meal alone at his desk, sent in by house-elves. Harry was presuming he was essentially grounded to his room as punishment, something which suited him perfectly well. He didn’t particularly want to see Snape, either.

 

The only person Harry did want to check on was Draco, who he hadn’t seen since Professor McGonagall had shouted at them all in the field outside of Hagrid’s Hut. Draco had had a glazed, empty look in his eyes, and had stood with his arms around his middle. It looked like he was locking himself into the furthest recesses of his mind to try and avoid confronting the situation he had found himself in…

 

When it was late enough at night that Snape wouldn’t hear him, Harry took it upon himself to creep across the hallway and into Draco’s room. He gently pushed the door open and saw Draco’s eyes glinting slightly in the faint light trickling in from the hallway. He still looked so sad and empty…

 

“Zabini’s a prick,” Harry muttered, pulling the door shut behind him. “Is that how the Slytherins are in every lesson?”

 

“Just leave it, Harry.” Draco’s voice was muffled as he pulled the duvet up and over his face.

 

“They shouldn’t treat you like this!” Harry hissed, clenching his hands into fists. “If I could just -”

 

“You’re not going to do anything, Harry!” Draco pushed himself upright and narrowed his eyes. “You’ve done enough damage already, so can you actually do something to help me out and just leave it?”

 

“But -”

 

“But nothing!” Draco’s voice was rapidly climbing in volume. “You don’t know how Slytherins work, Harry, so stop acting like you do! You’ve done enough damage already, so bloody well butt out before you do more!”

 

He purposefully turned his back on Harry, leaving him silhouetted in the doorway, a peculiar ache in his chest. All he’d wanted to do was help - had he really just done more damage? After lingering for a moment, he decided to finally withdraw from the room and leave Draco alone, like he wanted.

 

---

 

“How’s your nose?”

 

Ron touched the bridge of his nose and shrugged. “Madam Pomfrey managed to fix the crooked bit eventually. Besides, I probably shouldn’t have tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle alone…”

 

“Yes,” Hermione said sniffily, cutting up her breakfast without deigning to look at either of them. “You shouldn’t have.”

 

“You can’t talk!” Ron said irritably. “I watched you hex Parkinson!”

 

“Yes - I hexed her,” Hermione said pointedly. “You could outdo Crabbe and Goyle in a duel easily, Ron! Not in a fist fight!”

 

Harry frowned. “You hexed Parkinson? I didn’t see her in the Hospital Wing yesterday.”

 

Hermione’s cheeks flushed. “Well… it was a little more subtle than that, you see… but if you look closely, you’ll see Pansy’s acne take a step up over the next month or so.”

 

Harry turned around to look at the Slytherin table. Pansy was currently staring at herself in the reflection of a spoon, dabbing at a rather cakey layer of makeup. Even from here, Harry could notice the angry, red lumps that her foundation was failing to fully hide.

 

“Bloody hell, Hermione,” Harry said admiringly. “That’s no acne I’ve ever seen - it looks more like boils!”

 

“Well, I might have overpowered the spell a little,” she admitted. “I was just so angry with how she was treating Malfoy!”

 

“Since when do you care about Malfoy?” Ron asked. His voice sounded more confused than horrified, to Harry’s relief.

 

“I just don’t think they should be treating him so terribly, especially with everything he’s got going on!” Hermione said, shaking her head. 

 

If hearing a statement of sympathy aimed at Draco wasn’t enough to surprise Harry on his own, Ron’s next comment was enough to practically knock Harry out of his seat.

 

“How’s he doing, Harry?” Ron asked. “Is he alright?”

 

After struggling not to choke on a bit of egg, Harry overcame his shock enough to answer the question. “Not really,” he admitted. “He’s quite upset about everything, I can tell, although he won’t talk to me about it, or Sever - er, Snape…”

 

“I think he should really tell Professor Snape, Harry,” Hermione said. “It’s getting out of hand.”

 

“I do too, but he just won’t!”

 

“Well, can’t you tell him for Malfoy?” Hermione asked.

 

“God, no!” Harry protested. “He’d kill me! I just need to wait for Draco to deal with it himself, whenever that is… I’m not a snitch.”

 

For some reason, Hermione glanced away at that comment, suddenly very fascinated by her food.

 

“Well, I think we came off better in that fight,” Ron announced. “You gave Zabini a right shiner, Harry.”

 

He managed a thin smile. “Yeah, I did. That git definitely had it coming…”

 

Ron decided to spend the rest of breakfast rehashing the fight, although Harry couldn’t help but notice him neglecting to mention just how badly Crabbe and Goyle had gotten the best of him during the incident. Hermione seemed determined to primly ignore them all for the duration. Harry assumed she was judging him for his reluctance to talk to Snape about what had actually happened. 

 

Hermione’s strange quiet only ended when Ron noticed Crookshanks strolling across the grounds at the conclusion of their Herbology lesson and made a nasty comment about the cat, triggering the eruption of yet another Crookshanks and Scabbers argument. Harry then proceeded to spend the majority of his breaktime scanning the courtyard for Draco, seeking companionship that didn’t include his bickering best friends. There was no sign of the other boy, though, so Harry was forced to put up with Ron and Hermione’s fighting, and subsequent icy silence. 

 

As he entered into the Transfiguration classroom once their break ended, Harry felt like Professor McGonagall’s eyes lingered on Harry for a fraction longer than was normal. He quickly pushed that impression away. If anything, she was just glaring at him for starting a fight with the Slytherins. 

 

Ten minutes into the class, there was an unexpected knock at the door. The entire class craned their necks to watch as Snape strode in. 

 

“Can I borrow Mr Potter, please?” Snape asked. His dark eyes were fixed on Harry, who reluctantly got to his feet. Most of the Gryffindors were giving him sympathetic looks, while Ron and Hermione, who knew the truth of his guardianship arrangements, looked slightly concerned. 

 

Harry didn’t say a word to Snape as he walked out of the classroom. Snape shut the door behind them and began to walk silently down the corridor, Harry trailing a pace or so behind. Instead of taking Harry to his office in the dungeons, like he’d expected, Snape ducked into the nearby office of Professor McGonagall, instead. 

 

“Sit.”

 

Harry did so, and was surprised when Snape didn’t sit down in the chair behind Professor McGonagall’s desk, but in the one next to Harry. There was still something tense in the set of his jaw, but Snape looked far less angry than he had last night.

 

“Is there anything you wish to tell me?” he asked abruptly. 

 

“No,” Harry said curtly, scuffing at the ground with his shoe.

 

Snape sighed. “Very well. I shall engage in the bulk of the talking, I think. Let me fill you in on what I have just been informed of. While I was speaking with Professor McGonagall during breaktime this morning, I heard about some of the finer details of the incident yesterday morning.”

 

Harry winced. This was not going to be good…

 

“So Mr Zabini decided it would be amusing to set Draco’s clothing alight, did he? And then made certain untoward comments about what happened to Draco’s home?” Snape’s eyes were practically boring into Harry’s, now. “Is this true?”

 

He nodded reluctantly, knowing Draco was going to be furious. How had Professor McGonagall found out the details, anyway? She hadn’t gotten there until the end! Had Draco finally told someone what was going on?

 

“Miss Granger also informed Professor McGonagall that the Slytherin third-years in your Care of Magical Creatures class also spent most of the class taunting Draco. I’m assuming that is also true?”

 

Hermione - that explained why the teachers knew, now. That must have been why she had gone so strangely quiet when Harry had spoken about not snitching that morning… she must have already told Professor McGonagall the previous evening without knowing it was supposed to stay secret.

 

“I cannot possibly understand why you didn’t tell me any of this!” Snape said irritably. “Especially since I gave you multiple fair opportunities -”

 

Harry scoffed. “Draco specifically told me not to, and I’m no grass. I was dealing with it myself.”

 

Snape made a very exasperated sort of noise. “Merlin save me from the honour code of teenagers! You should not take matters into your own hands like that, Harry! It’s not telling tales to inform a teacher of such a vicious incident of bullying.” 

 

“But -”

 

“But nothing,” Snape said, raising a hand for silence. “I thought you knew better than this, Harry! You shouldn’t have hidden something like this from me, even if Draco did ask you to. I have the ability to help!”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “No offence, Severus, but teachers never help with this sort of thing.”

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

Harry gulped at the angry expression on Snape’s face and clamped his mouth shut. After a moment, Snape cleared his throat.

 

“Do explain yourself, please.” 

 

When Harry remained silent, Snape placed a hand on his arm. “Harry, you’re not in trouble. I just want to know what has led you to think this way.”

 

“None of my teachers in primary school ever helped when I tried to tell them about Dudley,” Harry muttered, shrugging off Snape’s hand. “If they even believed me to begin with, all it did was make things worse, since Dudley was angry he was in trouble and would take it out on me. Either that, or the teachers would tell Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, and I’d get in trouble at home for lying about Dudley. Adults can’t help with this stuff - the only way to deal with a bully is to show them you won’t sit back and take it. You can’t give them a weak target.”

 

“I think I am beginning to understand,” Snape said slowly. “And your fight with Zabini was an attempt to stand up for Draco when he wouldn’t do so himself?”

 

“Yeah.” Harry cleared his throat slightly. “And to be honest, I was just angry. He was really horrid to Draco. I didn’t like it.”

 

“I see.”

 

Snape’s eyes were boring into his, leaving Harry feeling oddly x-rayed. He decided to stare at the ground instead.

 

“I would like to once again remind you that the way you were treated by the Dursleys is not the norm,” Snape said eventually. “If someone is bullying you, I will believe you and deal with it. If someone is bullying Draco, I will believe it and deal with it. Do not let the mistreatment you experienced in your childhood cloud your judgement - things have changed.”

 

Harry shrugged, and didn’t reply. Snape seemed to be searching for some kind of response, even though Harry just didn’t know what to say.

 

“Sorry for not telling you,” he muttered after a moment.

 

“Are you actually sorry?”

 

“All that detention I’ve got has made me pretty sorry.” Harry looked up from the floor and gave Snape a pointed look.

 

He sighed. “Perhaps, given that I understand the true nature of the situation, the detentions with Mr Filch assigned by Professor McGonagall can be your sole punishment. I can appreciate your loyalty to Draco, at the very least, if not your methods.”

 

Harry was very surprised by Snape’s choice, but wisely didn’t point that out. The less detention, the better.

 

Despite getting off so easily, Harry couldn’t help but ask, “Can’t I swap and do the detentions with you, not Filch?”

 

Snape raised his eyebrows. “I do hope you’re not serious.”

 

“Well, it was worth a try,” Harry muttered. A few nights of scrubbing the castle it was, then…

 

Snape’s lips twitched, and he got to his feet. “Well, seeing as you are so intimately involved in this business, I think it would be wise for you to be present for some of my discussion with Draco about what happened. Come with me while I fetch him from Charms.”

 

“Alright,” Harry agreed, scarcely managing to hide his reluctance. If Draco saw Harry walking alongside Snape, he was going to immediately assume that Harry had snitched… no matter what Snape said to the contrary, Harry still knew that wasn’t a done thing.

 

Both of them made quick work of the journey to the Charms classroom. Snape indicated with his head for Harry to wait to the left of the door. As he opened it, Harry caught sight of multicoloured red bubbles floating in the air and wondered what he’d be doing in his own Charms lesson later this week.

 

“Professor Flitwick. May I borrow Mr Malfoy?” Snape’s voice suddenly sounded far angrier than it had just minutes ago when he’d been talking to Harry. Of course, Snape was now facing the Slytherins who had been picking on Draco. He certainly wasn’t going to be happy with them…

 

“I’m afraid he isn’t present,” Professor Flitwick squeaked.

 

“Why not?” There was a hidden note of alarm in Snape’s voice that Harry could barely just pick up on.

 

“He never came in today,” Professor Flitwick said. 

 

“I see - thank you for your time, Filius.”

 

Snape withdrew from the classroom and shut the door, then rounded on Harry. 

 

“When was the last time you saw Draco?” he demanded immediately. “Did you see him during your break?”

 

Harry frowned. “I didn’t notice him in the courtyard, no. I last saw him at breakfast, I think.”

 

Snape’s face had turned truly grim. “Return to my quarters until I can ascertain his location. Madam Pomfrey normally informs me straight away if either of you end up in the Hospital Wing, but I’ve not been in my office this morning, so I might have missed any messages… if you find Draco there, or if he returns while you wait, alert me with your tracker.”

 

Harry frowned. “He might just be bunking off, Severus -”

 

“Perhaps he may be, but given the vicious attacks I have just been informed of, I am slightly concerned he is lying paralysed in a hallway somewhere!” Snape snapped.

 

Harry gulped. “Oh.”

 

“Go and wait for me, Harry - now.” 

 

He nodded very quickly, then hurried downstairs in the direction of the dungeons, heart in his throat. Now, he was thoroughly convinced that one of those awful Slytherins had done something to Draco. It wasn’t just the third-years that were harassing him, after all… hadn’t Harry been involved in a fight with a few older students earlier this year? They would know far worse curses than the third-years did… Harry shivered and kept his eyes peeled for a flash of blonde as he made his way through the winding dungeon corridors. What Harry really wanted to do was to go out and search for Draco himself, and it took everything Harry had in him to do as Snape told him.

 

As he approached Asclepius’ portrait, however, Harry was struck by a sudden flash of inspiration. “Hey - you haven’t happened to see Draco coming in or out of here recently, have you?”

 

Asclepius fixed Harry with one of his usual malevolent glares. “And what possible motivation would prompt me to help you? If you’ve lost one of your playmates, then stop dawdling about and go find him yourself! The laziness of young people these days…”

 

Harry bit down on the inside of his cheek, willing himself to be patient. If he started bickering with Asclepius like he normally did, Harry wouldn’t get the information he needed.

 

“I have some pretty decent motivation for you, actually,” Harry said instead. “Your Housemaster wants to work out where Draco might be. Professor Snape can’t find him anywhere.”

 

Asclepius glowered at him for several moments, then let out a put-upon, hissing sigh. “Fine. You inform the Housemaster that he entered this room shortly after the commencement of morning break, then left significantly after he ought to have been in class…”

 

“What?!” Harry burst out. “Why did he leave so late? Where did he go? Which direction did he head in?”

 

“I have better things to do than constantly obsess over the movements of children!” Asclepius said irritably. “You two are always running in and out, pounding down the hallway like a stampede of elephants, disturbing my sleep…”

 

“You weren’t busy!” Harry snapped. “You were probably too concerned with primping your scales to actually do your job as a portrait!”

 

“How dare you! My scales are the crowning jewels of my ouroboros lineage, and the audacity of you to -”

 

“Damocles,” Harry muttered. “Let me in already, you stupid lizard.”

 

The portrait swung open, prompted by the password, still furiously hissing and complaining, and Harry hurried into his quarters, wishing that Snape would replace that nightmare portrait already.

 

Snape may have to stay put, but that didn’t mean it was an easy task. After a cursory walkthrough of their quarters to see if Draco was hiding anywhere, Harry couldn’t quite bring himself to sit down and wait for something to happen. He was paced the living room like a caged animal, feeling horribly anxious and worried for Draco. 

 

When the sitting room began feeling too confined, Harry rushed into his bedroom instead, and upon seeing the state of slovenliness it was in, decided it was high time to clean things. At least that way, he’d have something to do with his hands. There wasn’t anything truly labour-intensive to do, since the house-elves kept everything spotless and dust-free, so Harry began to line things up and move books onto shelves.

 

 As he removed his History of Magic textbook from on top of the Herbology one, Harry frowned. The cream corner of a piece of parchment was sticking out from behind the front cover. Harry didn’t remember sticking a copy of any notes in the front of his textbook… confused, he opened the book and removed the parchment.

 

It wasn’t Harry’s handwriting on the page, though. It was Draco’s.

 

Harry,

 

I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this anymore. I know you were trying to help, but nothing can possibly make them stop. Things are going to be a living nightmare forever. I’ve lost everything since the arrests and the trials, and I don’t know how to go on the way I have. I just need to get away from Hogwarts for a while. Thanks for giving me the idea, by the way. 

 

Try not to worry, and try to stop Severus from worrying, too, if you can.

 

D.L.M.

 

Harry read and reread the letter over and over, checking for a second page that wasn’t there, trying to make sense of the words. After a little while, the words started to blur, because his hands were shaking too badly to hold the page steady.

 

What the hell had Draco done?

 

This wasn’t some sort of Slytherin attack, Harry quickly realised. Draco had vanished because he wanted to. He’d gone somewhere - done something -

 

I need Severus, Harry realised suddenly. He dropped the letter to his desk, yanked his sleeve up and began to press at the small oval carving on the tracker, over and over. He didn’t think he needed to do it so many times, but Harry felt frantic, and he needed Snape here, he needed him now -

 

The door to Snape’s quarters burst open. Harry rushed into the hallway, nearly colliding with Snape.

 

“What’s happened?” Snape panted. He was out of breath - he must have run the distance to the dungeons. 

 

Harry opened his mouth, but found he didn’t have anything to say, no way to explain, so he darted into his bedroom to snatch the letter off his desk and thrust it into Snape’s hands. He peered down at it, and Harry watched as every last drop of blood drained from Snape’s face. Just as Harry had, he reread the letter several times before he did or said anything.

 

“Tell me what you know,” Snape demanded.

 

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know -”

 

“Then why did he say you gave him the idea?” Snape grabbed his shoulders suddenly, making Harry flinch. “You cannot lie for him right now, Harry - what has he done?!”

 

“I already said I don’t know! I’m not lying, I swear! I wouldn’t!” Harry wrenched himself from Snape’s grasp and pressed himself against the hallway wall, feeling inexplicably frightened. He’d never seen Snape like this. He was simultaneously livid, and… something else. Some other terrible, dreadful emotion that Harry couldn’t name, but immediately hated.

 

Snape seemed to take in Harry’s hunched profile, and the darkness in his eyes was tempered by something close to guilt. “Harry, I - I apologise.”

 

Harry nodded once, not daring to speak.

 

“I cannot make sense of this,” Snape said after a moment, gesturing to the letter.

 

“Neither could I,” Harry muttered, rubbing his arms. He was inexplicably chilly, and mentally cursed the frigid dungeons for their temperature.

 

Snape took Harry’s hand, startling him, and led Harry into his bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, keeping his hand tight around Harry’s. There was some intense emotion in his eyes, something that Harry wanted to shy away from, but he couldn’t bring himself to break away his gaze. 

 

“I need you to think carefully about what I’m going to ask you.”

 

“Okay,” Harry said quietly.

 

“I think we’ve both noticed that Draco has seemed a little… down, as of late,” Snape said levelly. “But… do you think that has developed into something more? Has he said anything to you that leads you to believe he might have… perhaps hurt himself?”

 

Harry felt like his heart plummeted into his stomach. A strange buzzing noise filled his head as he stared at Snape, horrified.

 

“I - I didn’t even consider it might be that -” 

 

“It very well might not be,” Snape said evenly, “but I must consider all the possibilities.”

 

I can’t do this anymore - I thought things would get better after the trial -

 

I deserve it, after everything I’ve done - 

 

Yes, Draco seemed sad, numb, but he wouldn’t… he couldn’t… 

 

“Harry.” Severus squeezed his arm, bringing Harry back to himself. “There is a very good chance that nothing of that nature has occurred, but I must consider everything that could have happened. Do you understand?”

 

“He can’t have done that,” Harry gasped. His whole body felt like it was made of ice. “He can’t, he -”

 

“Harry, calm down and take a breath!” Snape ordered. “I cannot give you a potion right now - you need to remain clear-headed. Do your Occlumency, now.”

 

Harry nodded jerkily and did his best to picture the rolling fields of the Quidditch pitch, trying to breathe around the lump in his throat…

 

It was only once his breathing had levelled out that Snape spoke again. “Has he implied anything to you that would be cause for concern?”

 

“He - I walked into his room on Friday, and he was - he was crying,” Harry stammered out, “and he said he used to think things were going to get better, but they aren’t, and then Draco said he thought he deserved how the Slytherins were treating him, and he said you would agree when I said he should tell you. And - well, he’s just seemed so off lately…”

 

Snape’s face had grown rather grim. “I see.”

 

“Severus, you don’t really think -”

 

“Harry, I cannot know anything for certain.” Snape got to his feet. “No matter what caused this, Draco is missing and needs to be found as soon as possible. Stay here while I start the search.”

 

“But -”

 

“You will stay!”

 

“I want to help!” Harry shouted. “I have to -”

 

“I cannot worry about you too right now, Harry!” he snapped. “You will wait here for news, or in case someone comes back here looking for me. That is how you’re going to help. Do you understand me?”

 

Harry nodded jerkily. 

 

“Do not disobey me.”

 

Snape finally released him and swept out of the room without another word. Harry wiped his hands on his trousers as the door slammed shut - he was positively drenched in icy sweat. 

 

Harry walked in circles, while his mind buzzed frantically with horrible images of Draco, dead, or soon to be, surrounded by a legion of laughing Slytherins crowded around his broken body… 

 

He was in Draco’s room, now. Harry didn’t know how he’d gotten there. He looked around, at the bookshelves full of novels Draco always read, the photograph of him and his parents, a book of sheet music on his desk - would Harry ever hear the sound of Draco playing the piano in their quarters again? He wouldn’t, not if Draco had really -

 

Harry couldn’t finish the thought, and he couldn’t keep looking around the room, because his eyes were growing blurry with tears. Had he missed something? Was there a sign he hadn’t picked up on, some indication of what had been going through Draco’s head that he could have told Snape?

 

But Harry just couldn’t believe Draco had done such a thing… the letter - it hadn’t sounded suicidal to him. In his wretched state, Harry couldn’t quite recall the wording, so he ran back across the hallway, into his room, where Snape had left the letter, discarded on his bed…

 

I just need to get away from Hogwarts… 

 

Get away how, though? Not in the way Snape had implied, surely? He kept saying not to worry…

 

After what felt like an eternity of Harry struggling to make sense of things, he could hear a faint thudding noise, in the direction of the living room… but Draco wouldn’t knock at the portrait, would he? Draco knew the password…

 

Harry hurried over anyway, and was simultaneously disappointed and relieved to see Ron and Hermione waiting on the other side.

 

“Professor Snape caught us while we were walking back from lunch, and told us to come down here to meet you,” Hermione informed him. 

 

Ron was frowning. “What’s wrong? You look awful.”

 

Harry opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What was there to explain? How could he possibly even begin to put into words what had happened this morning?

 

Ron and Hermione exchanged dark looks and stepped forward into Snape’s quarters, pulling the portrait shut behind them.

 

“Harry, he didn’t explain, but Professor Snape looked really worried,” Hermione said nervously. “What happened?”

 

“It’s… it’s Draco,” Harry rasped. “He’s gone, and - and Snape thinks… he thinks he might have…”

 

But no matter how much he tried, Harry couldn’t force the dreaded words past the lump in his throat. He couldn’t so much as think them, really, and the more he tried, the more dangerously close to tears Harry felt. 

 

Before he had to say it, though, Hermione threw her arms around Harry and hugged him tightly. She must have noticed how upset he was. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take a few shuddering breaths, feeling worse than he had in a long, long time, worse than he felt even around Dementors. He hoped Hermione wouldn’t let go.

 

“Why don’t we sit down?” she said in a small voice after some time had elapsed.

 

Harry nodded, pulled away, and shuffled over to the sofa. Ron and Hermione sat on either side of Harry, sandwiching him. They waited patiently, until he somehow had it in him to speak.

 

“He’s not been doing well,” Harry rasped. “The Slytherins - well, you two saw yesterday… and with the trial, well - he’s not coping. Snape’s worried he might have… done something.”

 

Harry could tell by the confused frown on Ron’s face that he hadn’t quite comprehended what Harry was getting at, but he knew Hermione had by her small gasp.

 

“Oh, Harry,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

 

He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. Over the top of his head, Harry heard Hermione hiss something unintelligible at Ron, who made a shocked sort of noise.

 

“Bloody hell, mate,” he muttered. “That’s horrible.”

 

Harry didn’t need to respond. It was horrible, after all…

 

They sat in silence for a very long time. Harry didn’t know what to say, and Hermione and Ron clearly didn’t either. He stared blankly at the wall, chest crushed beneath an unbearable weight.

 

“Why don’t I make some tea?” Ron said abruptly. “Does Snape keep any in here?”

 

Harry lifted his head and stared at him blankly, and Ron’s ears went red.

 

“What?” he said brusquely. “It’s what my mum does whenever someone’s upset…”

 

“He keeps tea bags in the cupboard on the left for when it’s too late to bother the house-elves,” Harry said in a hollow voice that sounded nothing like his own.

 

Ron got to his feet and headed to the kitchen. Harry’s eyes caught on Draco’s usual chair again, and felt a horrid wetness building up in the corners of his eyes once more. He shook himself furiously. Why was he being so bloody emotional? It wasn’t practical, and it wasn’t helping anyone.

 

“Sorry,” Harry muttered. furiously swiping at his face. “I don’t know why I’m so upset…”

 

“Well, it’s obvious that you would be, isn’t it?” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “You love him, Harry. You’re going to be worried.”

 

Those words, simple as they were, sent Harry reeling, most of all because they were true. 

 

Harry did love Draco, didn’t he?

 

That’s why he’d gone traipsing through the Ministry of Magic after him, even though Draco had spent a good two weeks treating him terribly. That was why he’d been unable to control himself after Zabini had set Draco’s cloak on fire. That’s why Snape’s words, asking if Draco might have done something to himself, had sent Harry reeling… Draco was his brother, and Harry loved him.

 

What a terrible thing to realise on the day Harry might have lost Draco forever.

 

“He’s as good as my brother, you know,” Harry croaked, while Ron set a steaming cup of tea in front of him. “I just… I can’t bear the idea that something awful’s happened to him…”

 

“Look, Harry,” Ron said quietly, sitting back next to him, “I know it’s not exactly the same, but last year, after Ginny got taken into the Chamber, and we all thought she - she was…” He swallowed, hard. “Well, I understand a bit how you must be feeling. I know it’s terrible. I’m sorry, mate.”

 

Harry nodded, his chest aching. Ron would understand, wouldn’t he? Ron had almost lost a sibling…

 

Ron reached out and sort of patted Harry’s shoulder, a bit awkwardly, but it meant more to Harry than he ever could have explained.

 

“I just don’t think he’d have - I don’t think he’d do what Snape thinks he did,” Harry whispered, still unable to say it aloud. “The letter’s too weird… it almost sounded like he’s going somewhere.”

 

“Can we see it, Harry?” Hermione asked timidly.

 

Harry inclined his head and reached into his pocket to fish out the letter. By now, it had become rather crumpled, having been passed around so much over the course of the last couple of hours. 

 

Hermione and Ron both craned their necks to read it, wearing twin frowns. All was quiet for a very long time, until Hermione broke the silence.

 

“It does sound odd, actually,” Hermione said slowly. “What does he mean about you giving him the idea?”

 

“That’s what Snape wanted to know,” Harry said, hugging himself with his arms. “I just can’t make sense of it…”

 

There was a strange light dawning in Ron’s eyes. “What if he just ran away?”

 

Harry stared at him. “But Severus didn’t seem to think so… he’d surely have guessed at it, if that was a possibility.”

 

“Snape might be wrong. Look,” Ron said, pointing to the letter. “Malfoy says you gave him the idea - didn’t you run away from Snape back in August? Maybe he’s referencing that?”

 

Harry felt several puzzle pieces click into place. He reread the letter, heart pounding against his ribcage.

 

I just need to get away from Hogwarts for a while… thanks for giving me the idea -

 

Harry jumped to his feet, startling Ron and Hermione, and rushed into Draco’s bedroom. Harry had thought that it had been in a state of disrepair because Draco was messy, but that wasn’t it! His wardrobe doors were hanging open haphazardly, and things were strewn across the carpet, like he’d been through his belongings in a hurry.

 

Draco wasn’t dead. He’d run away.

 

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Hermione asked, running down the hallway after him.

 

“Ron,” Harry said slowly, “you’re a genius.”

 

He coughed awkwardly. “Not really. You and Snape might just be a bit blinded, by, er - your feelings, or whatever.”

 

Harry leaned heavily against the wall. Compared to the misery of earlier, he felt borderline euphoric. Draco wasn’t dead! Running away they could fix - you could find someone who had disappeared…

 

But that happiness was quickly replaced by a new kind of worry. With the aid of magic, Draco could be anywhere right now. Harry remembered Snape’s long-ago lecture from the night he’d run away, ranting about how Harry could have been mugged or otherwise hurt, hours away from anyone who knew who he was and how to help him. 

 

And how had Draco gotten out of the school, anyway? Snape now kept his Floo powder locked in a drawer. Especially with a perimeter of Dementors guarding Hogwarts, there was no way for Draco to just slip out of the gates… But what if he’d tried, and a Dementor had attacked him? Draco’s reaction to them wasn’t as bad as Harry’s, but they still had a pretty bad impact! 

 

All the tension had built back up in Harry’s body, now. He nearly felt sick with dread.

 

“Come on, Harry,” Hermione said, taking him by the arm. “Let’s go sit back down.”

 

Harry nodded numbly, and allowed himself to be led into the living room. He sat down, and was just debating whether he should interrupt Snape’s search with a realisation that the man may have very well had already when the fireplace burst into life. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw an entire head lying in the grate. How was that even possible?

 

But Harry’s questions were quickly dismissed to the back of his mind when he realised that the head in question belonged to Andromeda Tonks.

 

“Mrs Tonks!” Harry said urgently, throwing himself from the sofa and to his knees at the grate. “It’s Draco, he -”

 

“Draco’s fine,” she interrupted. “He’s with me right now.”

 

Harry’s shoulders melted with relief.

 

“Is Severus with you?” Andromeda asked. “I’m assuming he’s rather worried.”

 

“He’s not here, but I can get him,” Harry said, pressing at the oval on the tracker. 

 

“In case he doesn’t know it, my Floo address is Ambleside cottage,” she informed him. “He can come through whenever he’s ready - I think Draco needs a word with his guardian about some of the things he’s told me about…”

 

“Right.” Harry stared at her, a strange emotion building in his chest. “Thank you so much, Mrs Tonks.”

 

“It’s really no trouble, dear,” Andromeda said with a small smile. “I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”

 

Her head vanished from the grate, and Harry pressed a hand to his mouth, suppressing a laugh, of all things. He could barely believe it - all this worry, and Draco had just gone off to his aunt’s house! He was alright - he was alive, and he was safe. Harry was so relieved.

 

Now all he had to do was wait for Snape to come back down so Harry could go over to Andromeda’s and murder his brother for worrying them all so badly.