"You need to chop the acacia roots smaller than that, Harry," Draco instructed, peering over the other's shoulder. It had been three days since the nightmare incident, and now they were in Severus's potions lab, chopping acacia roots and grinding various other herbs for several different drafts and elixirs.

"Why? I think they're small enough." Harry frowned down at the pile of purple and white roots.

"Honestly, Snape, how'd you ever graduate first year without knowing how to chop up roots?" the Slytherin rolled his eyes.

"I had Hermione help me," Harry admitted with a sly smile.

"Oh? And you have the nerve to accuse me of cheating?" Draco said, waving a finger scoldingly. "Naughty boy, having your obsessed schoolwork friend do all your potions labs. What would your father say?"

"I don't know. And I don't want to find out either, so shut up about it, okay, Draco? He's already on my arse as it is, if he learns that Hermione helped me pass most of my labs, he'll probably change all my grades to zeroes and make me repeat the year."

"Yup. That sounds like Uncle Sev, all right," agreed Malfoy, chuckling. Then he took the knife from Harry and began to chop the roots finer. "There! See? That's what you want them to look like. Got it?"

"Yes, Professor Malfoy," Harry whined. "Sorry I didn't grow up with a Potions Master as my godfather so I know all this stuff."

"Oh, don't use that old excuse. You can learn now, Hopeless, you're not brain dead. Least I don't think you are."

"Very funny. Then again, who would know better, considering the fact that you hang around the gorilla and his uncle."

"Crabbe and Goyle aren't really that dumb," allowed Draco. "They're just . . .um . . ."

"Mentally challenged?" Harry supplied. "Automatons? Apes trapped in a human body? Pigs on two legs? Think maybe they got hit in the head with a shovel at birth?"

"Stop! Please!" Draco was laughing so hard he nearly fell off his stool. "No more, Snape!" When he could stop laughing, he sat up and wiped his eyes. "You know, you have a real sarcastic mouth on you, Harry. Almost as sharp-tongued as a Slytherin."

"Wonder where I get that from, huh?" Harry asked, straight-faced. He took the knife back from Draco and resumed chopping the roots finer. "Seriously, though, why do you hang around them? For kicks? So they make anything you say sound bloody brilliant? Because I'm guessing it's not for their stimulating conversation."

"No. Although they're not that bad once you get to know them. Gregory actually can hold a conversation about something other than food every once in awhile. Crabbe, though, is ruled by his gullet, and he talks nonstop of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And I told you before, I didn't choose to hang around them, my father made me."

"How come?"

"Because he was friends with their fathers. You know what Death Eaters are?"

Harry shook his head. "No, not really. What is it, some kind of secret society?"

"Mmm, guess you could say that. The Death Eaters are a large group of wizards, mostly purebloods, who are dedicated to He-Who-Must-Not- Be-Named's cause. They follow him and his teachings, and all of them are mean as vipers. My father is one of their leading members. Crabbe and Goyle Senior are longtime members too, and Father decided I needed someone else to play with that had . . .the right connections."

Harry made a sympathetic face. "I almost feel sorry for you. I don't understand something, Draco. What's the big deal if you're a purebood over a Muggleborn? Or a half-blood, like my dad?"

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Everything, if you're a Death Eater's son, like me. It's all about money and connections and power. The pureblood families were once the elite of the wizarding world, like the nobility, if you will. We could trace our ancestry back centuries, to Merlin, and some of us beyond that, if we wanted, though Merlin's generally considered far enough. Being a pureblood means that you have the utmost respect for magic and blood ties, and you will do almost anything to preserve that purity. We follow the old traditions, like bonding house elves, and we only marry others with pureblood status. And we have an obligation to, uh, produce heirs, and raise them as befits our heritage and our Name."

Harry looked at Draco askance. "But that sounds so . . .so medieval. Do they do arranged marriages and all that?"

"Oh, yes. Matter of fact, I'm already precontracted to marry Pansy Parkinson," Draco said with a grimace. "I can't stand the silly goose, but what I want doesn't matter. Purebloods marry for alliance, like medieval nobility used to, and Father needed Nathan Parkinson's mercantile connections. So he drew up a contract when I was born promising me to Pansy and that was that. For them, anyway."

"Do you have to marry her?" Harry asked, horrified.

"Probably not now, that Father's in Azkaban and I'm considered tainted by virtue of adoption by a half-blood who hates the Dark Lord. I don't think old man Parkinson would give me water if I was on fire now, much less his daughter, thank Merlin!" Draco smirked. "That's one great thing about being Severus's ward, no more having to pucker up to the Bulldog Queen. I used to have to kiss her and dance with her at the holiday parties my parents threw, and it was so revolting!"

Harry gagged. "That's . . .ugh. . . that's gross. I almost feel sorry for you, Malfoy."

"What d'you mean, almost? I had her hanging around me for the entire night, drooling all over me. Oh, Draco, you're so handsome! Oh, Draco, can you get me another glass of punch. Draco, darling, let's dance the mambo, shall we? And I had to be polite and escort her about and I hated it! She was so boring and she looked at me with this glazed expression, like she was a puppy and I had a dog biscuit."

Harry couldn't help it. He giggled uncontrollably.

Draco huffed. "Sure, you can laugh about it, Snape. And you thought it was all wonderful coming from a family like mine, huh? I've had to endure Pansy since I was five, and she hasn't changed much, believe me! Once, when we were seven, I tried to get her to leave me alone, told her she was a dumb girl or something, and I made her cry. She tattled, of course, and Father made me apologize to her on my knees . . .after he whipped me for disgracing the Malfoy name by being rude in public. And I'm not talking about three whacks with a spoon, either. I mean a whipping with a cane, till I was so sore I could hardly walk. Still think I lived a life of luxury, Snape?"

Harry shook his head, dumbfounded. That was the last thing he had expected Draco to say. "I never . . .was that what you meant, when you said Dad's punishment for using kin-sa-dor on me wasn't as bad?"

"Yes." Draco said tightly. "Compared to Father . . .Uncle Sev's punishment was . . .it hurt, but it wasn't brutal. And that wasn't the only time Father caned me. He . . .he had very strict ideas about how a son of his should behave and if I didn't follow his rules . . ."

Harry winced. "That's just . . .wrong. No parent should treat a kid like that. Then it's not punishment. It's abuse."

"Tell that to my father," said Malfoy bitterly.

"What about your mother? Did she agree with him?"

"Mother was as much a stickler for appearances as Father. She was a Black and she had as much pride as a Malfoy. She allowed Father to dictate to her about most things, one of those was discipline. I was a son, so he disciplined me, for the most part. If I'd been a girl, she would have. Which isn't to say that she didn't punish me if I happened to get out of line with her. But she wasn't so physical, she tended to ground me or take things away that I liked. Once or twice, she'd smack the backs of my legs with a switch, but nothing like Father."

Draco's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. He returned to chopping up another pile of roots with a vengeance and didn't speak for a few more minutes. Harry remained silent as well, unsure whether to reveal his own past with the Dursleys or not. It would seem he had misjudged the scion of Malfoy Manor.

After a few more minutes, Draco spoke up again. "What, you're not fainting dead away on the floor? Bet you thought I never got slapped in my life, didn't you? You thought I lived like some prince in a fairy tale, right?"

"Kind of. You did have money and you always acted like you were better than everyone." Harry said defensively.

"I was brought up to believe that. It was one of the first lessons Father ever taught me. That purebloods were better than anyone, especially Muggles and Mudbloods. And as a pureblood I was expected to behave with decorum and restraint and the proper degree of respect towards adults. Unless they were Mudbloods or Muggles, of course. Then it was all right to tell them off. Like I did with Granger that time."

Harry scowled. "That was cruel of you."

"She was annoying me. But I suppose it was. And I was lucky Uncle Sev didn't hear me say that. Otherwise he'd of washed out my mouth morning, noon, and night and made me write lines. That's what he did the first time I ever used that word in front of him, when I was staying at his house. I think I was all of eight and he'd been trying to get me to talk to an acquaintance of his with a half-blood child and I said I didn't associate with Mudbloods and those sorts of people. I tasted soap for two days once he got through with me, and I never used that word around him again."

"Looks like you were a cheeky brat, Malfoy," Harry teased gently.

"Oh, and you weren't? Yeah, right. I might've had everything I wanted, but it cost me. Father was on my back night and day, making sure I knew what bearing the Malfoy name entailed." Draco's expression grew dark. "In return for the Malfoy estate and fortune and prestige, I was to be his right hand, and stand in the circle of Death Eaters proudly. Together, we would bring back the rule and worship of the Dark Lord, father and son. That was my inheritance, Snape. To kneel at the feet of old Snake-Face and kiss his arse."

"But you defied him."

"Not openly. I'd have been dead if I had done that. Uncle Sev helped me, he was the one who convinced me that I wasn't bound to be the dark son, that I didn't have to walk the lefthand path into night. He told me to pretend, to dissemble, and then to follow my conscience. He taught me that prejudice was nothing but fear of one group by another because they were different. When Father taught me curses and hexes that killed, that were designed to torture and maim, Sev taught me counters and spells to heal. When Father made me disembowel a dog alive as my initiation into the outer circle of Death Eaters, Severus took me home afterwards and held me while I sicked up all over and told me I wasn't evil, even though what I'd done made me ill. He said I wasn't responsible for the sins of my father. He saved me, and I can never repay him. I'm my father's son and I bear his name and his blood, but where it matters, in here," he tapped his chest. "I'm nobody's son but Severus Snape's."

He said that last with a proud lift to his head, like an eagle preening, Harry thought.

"Guess you aren't such a spoiled rich little prig after all, Draco."

"Took you this long to figure it out?" the blond sniffed. "Merlin, but you're slow, Snape. Must be a Gryffindor trait."

Harry flicked him on the arm with a finger. "But you're still a snob. I was almost a Slytherin, you know. The Hat nearly put me into your House."

Draco's eyebrows rose into his hair. "Do tell. Then what the hell are you doing in the House of the Lions?"

"I . . .uh, persuaded it to put me in Gryffindor."

"Why? Thought you were too good for the likes of us?" bristled Draco.

"No, it's because Slytherin has a reputation for being a Dark House. Voldemort came from there and I . . .I didn't want to be associated with him."

"Oh, pu-lease!" snarled an irate Draco. "Like the other three Houses didn't have their share of pureblood bigots who followed Voldemort too? We're blacklisted for having one member who was pure evil, but everyone overlooks the fact that Slytherin House alumni also hold various positions of authority in the community. There are Slytherin Healers, lawyers, judges, there was even a Slytherin Minister of Magic ten years back and Slytherin Headmasters of Hogwarts. Uncle Sev is one of old Voldy's bitterest enemies and he's Head of Slytherin House. People always are so quick to point the finger at us and sneer, saying that ambition and pride lead to evil, but they're wrong. Without ambition, what have you got? Nothing! You're a fat lump. Without pride, you're a doormat, and people walk all over you. I'd rather die than live like that. And we've got courage too, only it's not the obvious kind, like you Gryffindors. Ours is quiet, we keep to the shadows, but when you call us, we're there. And a promise made is a promise kept. Always."

"And what promises have you made, Draco?" Harry asked quietly.

"Only one. To never be like my father," answered the young wizard. "And that's one promise I mean to keep till I die, Harry. I'm not a traitor, I turned my back on the dark path, or else I'd never be here now. The manor protects its own, you know."

"I know," Harry said, and gave the other boy a tentative smile. "I'm glad you're on our side, Malfoy."

"Don't mention it."

"But you're still a major pain in the arse," Harry added, smirking.

"And you're still an insanely brave idiot, who needs somebody to watch your back constantly so you don't end up dead," returned the other.

"Oh really? And you think you're that somebody, Draco?"

"Hell, no. That's Uncle Sev's job, poor him. I'm the one who gets to stand on your other side and tell you what an idiot you are while fighting off the dark wizard trying to stomp your arse."

"What makes you think I need you to help me, Draco?"

"Because you're hopeless, Harry. And you need me, Merlin help you, Snape! You need me badly." The Slytherin said loftily, then swatted Harry on the back of the head.

"For what?"

"To keep your hero complex from killing you."

"I don't have a hero complex."

"No? What do you call facing a basilisk by yourself with an old sword then? Looks pretty heroic to me."

"It was the Sword of Godric Gryffindor and I had no choice!"

"Excuses, excuses! What about you, Weasley, and Granger going after the Sorcerer's Stone by yourselves? Three heroes and the last stand. You're lucky you didn't all die."

"Oh and like you'd of done any better?"

"I would've. I would have made sure I had back up, in case something went wrong. See, that's the difference between you and me, Harry. I don't rush in and pray for divine intervention. I make contingency plans, so if something goes wrong, I'm not screwed."

"You're bloody brilliant, Malfoy. What d'you want, a medal or a monument?"

"Both, since you asked."

"Arrogant prat."

"Heroic imbecile."

"Takes one to know one, Draco."

"Shut up, Harry!"

Harry laughed. Then he went back to grinding up parsley and something called senna. Some of the senna powder got on his hands and Draco saw.

"Careful, Snape. Don't get that in your mouth."

"Why? Is it poisonous?"

"No," sniggered the Slytherin. "Senna's a laxative, eat or drink too much of it and you'll be in the loo for hours."

"Oh. What kind of potion needs that?"

"Probably a Constipation Reliever, or an Irritable Bowel Soother, is my guess. Uncle Sev makes all kinds of healing potions, because you never know when you might need one."

Harry doubted he'd be needing that any time soon, but he carefully put the ground senna and parsley into small jars and labeled them. Funny, but he had actually had an interesting and somewhat amusing conversation with Draco. It was the first time he could remember getting along with the other apprentice, and he found that when Malfoy wasn't being an obnoxious brat, he rather liked him.

On my God! I can't believe I just thought that! Me, liking Draco! Help! I think I'm having an out of body experience. Who am I and what's happened to the real Harry? He darted a glance at Draco, wondering if the Slytherin wizard felt the same about him.

Draco was busy grinding marjoram and bicorn horn in a mortar, and so missed Harry's sidelong thoughtful glance. Though he wouldn't have been quite as astonished as Harry might have thought, since his opinion of the Potion Master's son was also altering. Slowly but surely, the rivals were becoming closer, and beginning to see similarities as well as differences in each other.

By the time the boys had finished all the grinding and pressing of the herbs Severus had listed, their hands and backs were sore and they were starving.

"Race you to the kitchen, Harry," challenged Draco. "Last one there gets to make the winner lunch."

"You're on," Harry said. He waved his wand and the lab was spotless, as per Snape's instructions. Then he and Draco went and crouched down in the corridor, like runners on blocks for a sprint.

"Ready. Set. GO!" Harry called, then took off at a dead sprint.

He might be small, but one thing he could do was run, since he'd been persecuted by Dudley and his gang since he was six, he got lots of practice. He blew down the corridor like a streak of blue fire.

Draco wasn't as quick at the start, but he had longer legs and he was determined to win, he soon caught up to Harry and matched him.

The two tore down the hall like twin dervishes, running hard. They were almost at the kitchen entrance when Severus suddenly appeared in front of them, he'd been heading to the kitchen for a snack after reading all afternoon in the library about childhood trauma and treatments, trying to find a way to rid Harry of his nightmares.

Neither Harry or Draco saw the professor until it was too late.

The two barreled into the tall wizard like express trains, knocking the startled Snape backwards onto the floor. They then tumbled headlong after him and all of them landed in an awkward muddle on the ground.

"Uh oh," Harry hissed, trying to untangle his foot from Draco's robes and not step on his father's hand. "Uh . . .sorry, Dad."

Severus turned his head and fixed his son with a glare that could have cut glass. "Harry Albus Snape, would you mind telling me just what the bloody hell you're doing running down the corridor like maniacs?"

"Umm . . .we were having a race," replied Draco, gingerly rubbing his knee, he'd bashed it into the floor when he had fallen. "Sorry, Uncle Sev. We, ah, didn't see you there."

"Obviously," Severus said, and the single word fairly dripped sarcasm. Concealing a wince, the Potions Master sat up gingerly and shifted Draco off his legs and Harry from his lap, though not before applying a swat to the Gryffindor's rear end, which was too tempting a target to resist.

"Hey!" Harry yelped. "It was an accident, Dad."

"Don't be such a baby. That didn't hurt." Draco snorted.

"How would you know?" muttered Harry irritably, rising cautiously to his feet. "I don't see your backside getting smacked." He shot a sulky look at his father, who was climbing to his feet. "How come you're not giving Draco a smack too? He fell on you and it was his idea besides."

"Oh?" Severus eyed the guilty party and Draco quickly backed away, covering his bottom. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to run in the house, Draco?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess. But we were having a contest and uh, the loser got to make the other one lunch." Draco said sheepishly.

"Really? Then, since you both lost, I think it only fair you make me lunch," Severus said silkily.

Both boys looked at one another ruefully. "Okay, Uncle Sev."

"Sure, Dad. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm not damaged permanently." He rubbed the small of his back, grimacing. "Well, what are you waiting for, Easter?"

Harry quickly turned to go into the kitchen, and Draco followed.

The blond wizard gave a startled cry as Snape's hand swatted his bottom as he went past. "What's the deal, Uncle Sev?"

"Now you're even," replied the professor, smirking.

Draco shot him a petulant glare before continuing on into the kitchen to make his godfather something to eat as he had ordered, making sure Harry wasn't looking before surreptitiously rubbing his backside.

Harry quickly put together a sandwich of ham, Swiss, lettuce and tomato with mayo, and Draco supplied crisps and a glass of lemonade, which Severus had made from the fresh lemons that grew in the orchard.

The boys levitated the food and drink to the table, where the professor was now seated, and then started making their own sandwiches as well. Soon all three were eating companionably, until Draco began to snicker uncontrollably.

Harry and Severus stared at him.

"What's so funny?" asked Harry.

"It's just . . .all three of us when we fell on top of each other . . .we must have looked like . . .a bunch of idiots . . .!" Draco managed to say before dissolving into helpless laughter.

"Too bad we didn't have a camera," Harry remarked insolently, then he too started to laugh.

Soon the two of them were holding their sides and howling.

Severus just looked at both of them, trying to maintain his facade of stern patriarch, but his lips twitched involuntarily into a smile. "Insolent little brats," he muttered. Well, at least they're getting along better now and not trying to pound the daylights out of each other, so that's one good thing, Sev, he reminded himself. It did his heart good to hear the boys laughing, since neither of them found much to laugh at previously, even if it was at the expense of his dignity and a rather sore backside. He chuckled softly, reluctantly, then resumed eating his sandwich, reflecting that laughter was better than shouting, and perhaps there was hope for his little family yet.