It was, he knew, an action that Albus would never approve of. Nor would any of the other staff, although he strongly suspected that Minerva, having dealt with The Golden Group and its predecessor, would appreciate it. Everyone but Harry were gathered at the Gryffindor table. Well, he corrected himself, Lovegood wasn’t there either. They huddled close to each other and had an air of definite concern. He saw the doubtful glances they cast at each other. After six years, Severus could read the signs as well (better!) as anyone else.

Something was Up. A small sigh and a twitch of his wand later and he was frowning at his breakfast as he listened in to the teens’ conversation. Merlin bless whoever made eavesdropping spells invisible! But Potter’s behavior was a concern.

Severus sighed as he listened. He had thought that Harry’s behavior recently was merely a reaction to his perceived, and true he supposed, betrayal. Yet why would he be studying so much? Why would he become secretive? Why would he impose isolation on himself? It didn’t make sense. If he were truly honest with himself, Severus would admit that he had not paid so much attention to Harry as he should have.

The lad’s rejection, even as justified as he was, tore at him. Severus had allowed that pain to spur him into a withdrawal. This was not unusual for him, quite the reverse, in fact, but in this case it may have been the wrong move. Severus cut the spell of with an irritated snap of his hand. Perhaps he should consult with Minerva? She was the boy’s head of house. She would have noticed something if there were anything to notice.

-----

“Yes, Severus, he’s done much better in class lately. Haven’t you noticed?” Minerva tilted her head to the side as she poured out the tea.

“Actually, no. The quality of his work has actually declined, if anything. Two, please. Thank you.” Severus sat back, cup of tea firmly in hand.

“Would you like me to speak with him about it?” the witch asked. “I know you were by no means required to let him into your class. Perhaps I should remind him that it is a privilege? And one that he is perilously close to losing?”

“No, don’t do that.” He flicked his fingers dismissively. “I didn’t really mean academically anyway. Have you noticed anything else about him? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Minerva pursed her lips. “You mean other than the fact that his relations with you seem to be at an all-time low?” she asked tartly. Severus tipped his head forward in a shallow nod.

“Well, he’s been quiet lately. All this year, in fact, except for those incidents with you. And he’s…branched out a little in his friendships, or perhaps I should say associations? It has not been lost on me, Severus, that Draco Malfoy has spent a great deal of time not antagonizing certain Gryffindors, nor did I miss that they seem to have reciprocated.”

She gave him a narrow-eyed look of speculation. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, yet, Severus?”

“Minerva…”

“I did ask you not to provoke him too much, you know.”

“I know!” It was a savage and impatient exclamation but he looked contrite a scant moment later. “I will not pretend to be blameless, but…his behavior seems….out of character, perhaps.” He gazed into the depths of his teacup.

Minerva regarded him closely before nodding tightly. “I was afraid of this. After last year, especially, but I had so hoped….” She shook her head and began again in a brisk tone. “Does Albus know?”

“Does he know?” He laughed bitterly. “Albus is half the problem. I took several actions at his behest and now I fear that they may not have been the most advisable.”

“Oh dear.” Minerva looked upset, but she did not protest his assessment. Severus was probably right. He was a very astute young man, he always had been. And Albus was at times more than a little highhanded. “Will you advise me if you find out anything that I need to know?” She asked with a small sigh.

“I will.” he promised. “Perhaps we could even arrange a trade?” He smiled grimly. “I will keep you updated, if you tell me if the boy does anything of…concern.”

Her eyebrows arched high over widened eyes. “Oh my, Severus. I should almost think you care about him.”

His look was unexpectedly guilty. It was a certain flash in the eyes left over from his youth. It had taken her four years to notice it, but it had served her well ever since. “Why you do! but…” she trailed off and examined him more closely. “Over the summer then?” she asked gently. He scowled but his head tilted almost imperceptibly in assent. “Your secret is safe with me,” she assured him.

“I will keep you informed.”

She offered him her hand. He smiled briefly, a self-mocking smile and one that was uncertain. But he found that he was unwilling to examine any good fortune too closely lest it evaporate like Leprechaun gold, and grasped her offered hand in his own.

---

Draco glanced at the Gryffindor table as he took his seat in the Great Hall at breakfast. It was mostly a habitual maneuver and he barely noticed it anymore. He did notice, however, that Harry seemed to be missing. He absently made a note to pay attention and see if the brunette wizard showed up later in the meal. Quite unnoticed by Draco, however, was the scowl that Pansy Parkinson gave him.

---

Sunday morning, a time that was far too filled with uneasy feelings about unfinished school work to be properly enjoyed as part of the weekend, but not late enough in the day for those feelings to inspire a panicked frenzy of essay-writing and text-reading. Of course, Draco Malfoy did not panic. Actually, he usually had most of his homework done before Sunday, although today he had a bit more to complete than usual. This was due to the trip into Hogsmeade village yesterday, which had cut into his habitual work time. It was depressing, he knew, but sometimes there just wasn’t that much else to do in a castle set in the Scottish wilderness in the middle of winter. Besides, Sundays Draco wrote home to his mother.

---

Dear Mother,

It has been some time since last I wrote to you, and in my defense I can only offer the fatigues of school. I hope you will forgive me for not finding the time to write sooner. I hope that this missive finds you well and that your life is proceeding smoothly. Things here have been a bit unsettled, as I am sure that you have heard. I find myself missing the peace of the summer time. My assignments have much to do with this longing, although not as much as you suspect, I am certain.

In answer to the questions that you asked in your last letter, I will tell you that all of my friends are doing well…

Lucius sneered and dropped the letter back onto the delicate antique table in his wife’s sitting room. Narcissa’s voice drew his attention. “I am surprised to see you here, husband. You have been remarkably busy lately.”

“And I shall continue to be busy, I fear,” he replied smoothly. “My work is yet unfinished.”

“Of course,” Narcissa nodded. “It is a poor wife and witch I should be if I did not realize the importance of your work and support you in it.”

“No one could accuse you of being a poor witch, my wife. Though I could wish that you would not coddle and hamper our son as you do. I have hopes that he will join me in my work when the proper time comes.” Lucius frowned at her.

“My days are long and lonely, Lucius. Surely you do not begrudge me what little contact I am able to maintain with my only child?” She laid a slight emphasis on the words only child that, to Lucius’s ears, held a hint of reproach and accusation.

“He will never be able to focus on learning the things he must if you continue to distract him.”

“I do not believe that we write so often that I am as distracting as you say. And in any event you seem to forget that before I was your wife I was Narcissa Black. There are plenty of things that I can teach my son.”

“Provided you do not forget what is appropriate,” Lucius sneered and strode out of the room, squeezing past her to get to the door.

Narcissa waited a moment to ensure that he had truly left before she sighed a tiny sigh of relief and victory and crossed to the table Lucius had been standing at. As she had feared, the table held Draco’s most recent letter and it was entirely likely that Lucius had seen it, given their conversation. However, on a more positive note, Lucius had clearly not read it that closely, also given their conversation.

Narcissa gave a small smirk as she considered exactly how much truth there was to the statement that she could teach her son many things. And Lucius had only the vaguest ideas about most of them. There was, for example, any number of spells which the Black family had traditionally reserved to itself, being passed on personally from Black to Black. Draco, as her son, was eligible to learn whichever of those spells she wished to teach him. And she was not obligated to tell anyone else about them. In particular, she could think of a few privacy charms that would not go amiss. Unless she was very much mistaken, Draco’s last letter had, in fact, contained a request for advice. Not knowing the whole situation, however, made it difficult to give practical or useful advice. The charms that Narcissa was thinking of would allow her to get the full story from her son without the information falling into anyone else’s hands.

Her smirk grew as she considered exactly how to pass this knowledge on to Draco. The simplest method would be by owl, but that was not particularly secure. Perhaps a brief visit to Severus Snape was in order?

---

“Hey guys!” Neville whispered, placing his bag on the floor beside the seat he dropped into. He nodded at Draco, who was perched gracefully in the seat just across the library table. “Where’s Harry? I thought for sure I’d be the last one here.”

Ron and Hermione shared a look that spoke volumes. “He ought to be here by now,” Hermione said, pressing her lips into a pale, thin line.

“He disappeared again earlier,” Ron commented. “If he’s not here soon I’ll go and have a look for him.” The redhead frowned and shared another significant look with his girlfriend. Unspoken words passed between them and she nodded.

“In the meantime, shall we begin?” Draco canted his head to the side and rested a hand on the cover of his charms text. This time all three Gryffindors exchanged glances and Neville replied in a hesitant and uneasy affirmative.

Ten minutes later, Harry rushed in, ducking away from Madame Pince’s glares and sliding into the empty chair at the end of the table. “Sorry I’m late. I went for a walk and lost track of time,” he offered. None of his fellow students looked like they believed him.

“Quite all right,” Draco said mildly. “I don’t suppose you have your notes on counter-charms handy?”

“Sure,” Harry breathed, reaching into his bag and pulling out his notes.

“Good. Goyle fell asleep on mine and they are now entirely illegible.” Draco’s expression was a mixture of both a sneer and a grimace.

“Why do you hang around with them, anyway?” Neville asked after making an appropriate noise of sympathetic dismay.

Malfoy shrugged. “We’ve always been together. Our fathers introduced us when we were young.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

Neville ducked his head and looked at his notes again. There was a faint red tinge on his cheeks. Clearly he wanted to say more but did not dare.

Draco studied him a moment and then, without giving any sign that he realized that the entire table was watching him, he shrugged again. “They never have been very good conversationalists, though.”

Neville looked up at him and gave him a small smile and a nod of acknowledgement.

Draco nodded back and turned slightly to quiz Ron.