Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
Charlie and Harry snog quite heavily towards the end in this chapter. The scene fades to black, and you may interpret that however you want, but do try to keep in mind that Harry is only sixteen, won't you?

Also, Snape finally makes an appearance here.
Chapter 3

—CHAPTER 3—

Harry hated that he was about to do this — really, he did, but asking Dumbledore about what to do about Derek's kids felt wrong and off. And he was a bit prejudiced against Slytherins. It was something Harry had come to realise over the summer, and it wasn't something he liked admitting, but that didn't make it less true. Then there was the fact that other than telling Harry about the Prophecy after Sirius died, Dumbledore had gone straight back to ignoring him again. It hurt a bit, but mostly annoyed him. He had more pressing thoughts and worries at the moment, though.

Harry sucked in a deep breath. Raising his hand, he knocked once and then waited. He didn't have to wait long before the door was yanked open, or for Snape to glare darkly down at him.

"Potter," he sneered. Harry cringed.

"Snape—"

"No."

"But, Snape—!" The door slammed closed just as Harry said, "Dammit, help me, Snape, you're my only hope!" It wasn't until after he'd said it that he realised why it felt both familiar and wrong to say that.

The door was opened again. Snape was smirking now instead, an eyebrow raised. "I suggest, Princess Potter, that you use the Force, then."

Harry cleared his throat. He could feel himself flushing. "It came out wrong," he muttered.

"Somehow I very much doubt that, Potter," Snape drawled. The dangerous glint in his eyes stopped Harry from asking why – or bloody how – Snape knew about something so Muggle as Star Wars.

"Um, yeah," Harry said lamely. "I was just going to ask about, um. I think that Lucius Malfoy had a brother or something, and that he was a squib, and that he had a Muggle girlfriend who had two kids with him." Harry said it very fast, almost tripping the words over his tongue in his rush to get them out.

Snape's eyes darkened. His gaze was fixed on something above and to the left of Harry's head.

Harry wet his lips. "I thought about asking the Headmaster, but I don't think he'd do the right thing."

"And you believe I will?" Snape murmured quietly.

"You're Slytherin," Harry said, "And the Headmaster's got rose-tinted glasses." Snape looked sharply at him. Harry squirmed but didn't say anything more about Dumbledore.

"Are you quite certain?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, no. But it feels like I am, and, well. There's just something about them that screams 'Malfoy'."

"Indeed." Snape raised an eyebrow, then wanted to know, "And just how did you happen upon these illegitimate Malfoys, Potter?"

"Well…" Harry hesitated, very sure he didn't want Snape to know that he was unhinged enough to need a psychologist. "I don't really know for sure, that they are. Not yet. But I've got some of their blood. Their dad gave it to me after I explained, 'cause I read about this potion, and—"

Snape's eyebrows arched. "Potter," he murmured warningly.

Harry blithely ignored it. Harry wasn't sure where Snape kept his wand, but suddenly Snape had it in his hand, tapping it almost nonchalantly against his hooked nose. Harry gulped. "That's, um. I mean… I, um. I needed someone to talk to?"

Snape appeared almost gleeful. "You went to a psychologist."

Harry started. "Yeah," he muttered. "Too much stuff in my head. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I dunno…it just… It all went really well until his son got a Hogwarts letter. Then, my fake ID wasn't that effective anymore."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You manufactured falsified identification papers?"

A bit confused, Harry shrugged. "Yeah, so? It's needed for everything in the Muggle world, you know, and I really didn't want him to know who I was. Or anyone to know I'd been to see him."

"Is that so."

Another shrug. "I used to do it all the time when I was a kid."

"I'm sure. Now, move."

"Snape—"

"Move!" Harry jumped out of the way. Snape smirked. "The potions laboratory is in the basement, is it not?"

—x—

Harry had mostly stood back while Snape prepared the potion. He didn't think he'd ever seen Snape brew potions before. Actually, he was pretty certain he'd never seen the man do it before. Harry would've remembered. Watching Snape brew made Harry, sort of, understand why he hated watching Harry, or Neville for that matter, botch up their potions. To Snape, it must look like they were torturing their potions, butchering ingredients left and right, whipping and beating the bubbling potions in their cauldrons instead of stirring.

So it wasn't that Snape followed the instructions to the letter – because he didn't, he substituted and changed and adapted the potion left, right and centre – or that he knew the instructions by heart – because he didn't, exactly; he read it through once carefully then more or less ignored what the instructions told him to do and replaced it with something that Harry suspected Snape made up as he went along – it was that Snape was a Potions Master, and he made it look as simple as opening a book. But the potion in his cauldron ended up exactly like the text in the book said it should look like. And Harry felt pretty bloody certain Snape hadn't followed a single bloody step of the instructions. And that was pretty fucking marvellous, Harry grudgingly admitted – but only to himself! But it was bloody annoying, too, because it showed just how hopeless and pathetic Harry truly was at potions. Harry wasn't sure if Snape had done it on purpose, but, well, he certainly wouldn't put it past the man.

Harry had added the drops of blood, Snape had done something with the potions – Harry wasn't sure he actually wanted to know where the man had got Lucius Malfoy's blood from – Harry wasn't sure what, and then they had waited. Well, Snape had waited. Harry had cleaned up after Snape.

"So if the potions turn purple they're related?" Harry wondered. Snape nodded.

Harry sighed. The potion was purple in both of the jars, one each for Derek's kids. "Both of them. You know, I was gonna ask Charlie to set up some wards and stuff on their house, but…"

"It will hardly suffice and be far from adequate. Are their looks recognisable?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I think so. I mean, once you get it into your head that they're related to Malfoy you can't stop seeing signs of it. But I don't really know what their biological father looked like, either. The girl, Beka, has got the silver eyes, I think, and she's rather pale, but she's got freckles and brown hair, I think." She had been wearing a blue wig on the photograph. Somewhere along the line of seeing Derek he'd picked up the habit of rambling. It was like, once he started talking, he couldn't stop until he'd said everything that was on his mind, relevant or not. "No pointy features. I'm guessing she looks like her mum, or…her father. And Tom, he's a blonde. Not like Malfoy, but still blonde. He's got grey-green eyes. Rather tanned. His nose kinda looks like Draco Malfoy's, but not really. Really wants to be a wizard." He looked up to see that Snape's black eyes were fastened on him with an uncomfortable intensity. Er…Snape?" Snape's eyebrows twitched. For some reason, it prompted Harry to add, "Professor."

"Potter, Potter," Snape drawled. He held out a vial of a black, glittering potion to Harry.

Harry gave Snape a startled glance before gingerly reaching out and taking hold of the vial. "What is it?"

Snape smirked. "If you intend to venture into Dark Arts, Potter, then try not to kill yourself," he drawled.

Harry blinked several times, his eyes going back and forth from Snape to the small vial. "…so the nausea—"

"Indeed. Drink it." When Harry hesitated, he added smoothly, "Of course, I am sure there are several who would be most interested in knowing why you chose to see a Muggle psychologist."

Harry almost choked in his haste to drink it all down, all under Snape's mocking, smug eyes.

—x—

"Um, Derek?"

Derek blinked, then looked away from Snape to give Harry a weak smile. "Yes, Harry?"

"This is one of the Professors at Hogwarts. Professor Snape. We…we have a problem. About the father."

Derek suddenly looked very tired. "I surmised as much. You looked very strange when you asked about the come in." He stepped back and held the door open for them. "Alec is in the kitchen, we can talk there."

Snape stared at Harry and Harry forced himself not to look away, but he didn't feel the tell-tale signs of someone probing his mind as he'd half expected. Then again, this was Snape. Harry'd never felt him probe his mind outside of those Occlumency lessons. Hadn't he gone over this with Derek? About breaking trust, and raping someone's mind? Harry shook the thoughts away. Instead, he forced himself to think about Alec, Derek and the kids, because he reckoned that was probably what Snape was curious about. It was just, when he'd told Snape about Derek and his family, Derek's sexual orientation hadn't exactly been first and foremost on his mind.

"Alec's his boyfriend," Harry muttered.

"I see. How wonderfully queer for you, Potter," Snape murmured as he pushed past Harry.

Harry scowled.

—x—

The wards had taken longer than Harry'd first thought to set up. Then again, he'd realised as he watched Snape ward the flat, and the building, that he hadn't had much of an idea how one went about warding something. Watching Snape do it had made it look easy. Snape had muttered Latin incantations for hours as he walked around, pointing and waving his wand in curious gestures and motions. He'd never lost the thread, or stumbled. He'd just done it. Like it was a two-piece jigsaw puzzle.

It made Harry want to be impressed of Snape, and that wasn't a feeling he was either comfortable or familiar with. Because Harry'd read up a bit on warding. He'd had to give up after a couple of pages, because it had all gone right over his head. So Harry knew it was bloody difficult and exhausting.

It didn't make any sense that Snape'd be sitting opposite of him, calmly eating his falafel or whatever it was, looking as if the most exhausting thing he'd done all day was get dressed.

"How much, exactly, have you told them?"

Snape's voice drew Harry back to the present. He shrugged. "Derek read a lot when he came in contact with the Wizarding World, so I guess he knows more about it than I do. He's really clever, you know. I wish I'd known someone like him when I got my Hogwarts letter." Harry told this mostly to the chips on his plate. Things like that came out much easier if he wasn't actually looking at Snape, or whoever else he might be talking to.

They were sitting outside, in a park eating takeaway. The whole business was surreal.

Having takeaway with Snape.

"Potter."

Harry looked up. Snape appeared to be amused, his demeanour relaxed. Harry'd never seen Snape act like a Muggle before, so he hadn't really got how much it suited the man. Snape was wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt, a leather jacket over that. He looked…relaxed. He didn't startle around cars and busses the way Charlie did. Snape really looked at home around Muggle in some weird way. It thoroughly trashed Harry's image of Snape. Rather, trashed it further. The last couple of days with Snape… Well, they'd been different.

"The prophecy?"

"Oh. No. I'm not an idiot, Snape. Yeah, he's my psychologist, but most of the time he just sits back, and expects me to do the talking. He doesn't really say all that much, you know? He just helps me work through my mind and lead myself to the right conclusions." Harry hesitated.

"Yes?"

"Sometimes I want to tell him about it," Harry confessed, toying with the chips on his plate. "It's like, when I tell him about what's wrong or when we try to work through my issues, everything stops being my problem. It's like he carries the weight. I wish I could tell him about the prophecy."

Snape looked at him for a moment or two, then he said, "Eat your chips, Potter."

Harry sighed. "Yeah." But he could hear Derek inside his head, explaining to him about responsibility and consequences in a way no one had ever bothered to do before. For a while, he'd hated how much sense Derek made, but then, well.

Then he'd accepted it, and moved on. So it was with his heart in his throat that he cautiously ventured, "Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Potter?"

"I'm sorry. For looking in the Pensive. I'm sorry. I didn't know…better. I…Dumbledore let me watch his, he…left it out, too, and afterwards it was like he'd left it out 'cause he wanted me to look in it without him there. He didn't… No one ever taught me it was wrong. I'm sorry."

Snape's eyes were dark and cold. Harry'd no idea what was going through the man's head right then. His stomach was churning with nerves. He knew he'd done the right thing, he just wasn't sure if Snape thought he'd done the right thing, or if he'd shout and curse at him.

After a long while, Snape finally said, "Very well."

For some reason, Harry felt weak with relief and almost giddy with happiness.

—x—

"Charlie?"

"Harry?"

Harry smiled. "Could you help me out? I need to shrink my trunk, and—"

"Sure."

Harry's heart beat a little faster.

"Great!" He headed back upstairs, Charlie in tow. "Why are you here so often? It feels like you're here more than I am."

Charlie chuckled. "Holiday. Couldn't take it all out at once, though, so it's spread out all summer. This is the last of it, really."

The door leading to his room was wide open, and Harry gave a heavy sigh, feeling the hard lump in his heart grow a little bit bigger again, as he walked in. His trunk was where he left it, but someone had tried to open it. He wasn't sure who did it, or why, or even when it'd started, but someone was going through – or trying to – his stuff what felt like every other day.

It hurt.

There wasn't anyone but him, Lupin, Snape, Hermione and some of the Weasleys who even stayed at Grimmauld Place this summer. Sure, the Order came and went, but they never really went anywhere except for the kitchen and the sitting room. He knew it wasn't either Snape or Lupin. He'd asked Lupin, and Snape had found him staring at his trunk with a shuttered expression on his face once. That time, his trunk had been upside-down and his belongings thrown across the room, as if whoever it was who'd done it had been looking for something, and then become angry when they couldn't find it. The doors to the wardrobe had been thrown open, his clothes scattered on the floor. Snape had, in that quiet voice of his that was way more terrifying than his shout, told him to use a locking charm.

Charlie had helped him with that. So it wasn't Charlie. Charlie just wanted to have it off with him, not steal what little Harry actually owned.

"Thanks, Charlie, for the anti-theft spells," he said quietly. Nothing was missing, so it had obviously done the trick, but his trunk was now indigo instead of brown.

Charlie looked just as pained as Harry felt, and uncomfortable. "Harry—"

Harry waved him off. "Don't." Because if it wasn't Charlie, and it wasn't Snape or Lupin… There weren't all that many people left to choose from.

After Harry closed the trunk, all it took was a simple wave of Charlie's wand, and it shrank down to the size of a matchbox. His broom was bundled up in a cloth and Harry realised it would look strange for him to walk round with it, but it wasn't like he had a choice, because he wasn't about to mess with the magical properties on the broom just to shrink it because it was a bit ungainly.

"You're going back to school tomorrow, right?" Charlie asked, out of the blue. Harry could feel his eyes on his neck.

"Yeah." Harry frowned, bent over the bed to make sure the cloth stayed on the broom, and didn't suddenly slip off, by tying it in place with strings.

"D'you want to go out with me tonight?" Charlie asked frankly. Harry felt his face heat up, even as he quirked a small smile over his shoulder. Grinning, Charlie appeared in front of him, seating himself next to Harry's fumbling hands on the bed. "Lovely. We'll go eat somewhere, I think."

"…sounds nice," Harry mumbled, pushing his broom out of the way and sat down next to Charlie. Charlie wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry smiled and shifted closer. "Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"How long after you figured you were, um, gay, did it take until, well. Until you felt comfortable with it?" It was the one question he'd never really asked Derek.

"At the time, it felt like forever. Looking back, it went in by a flash. A couple of months, I think. There wasn't really a rush, you know? It was just wank material."

"Oh, yeah." Harry laughed. "Definitely."

"Wank a lot, do we?"

Harry grinned cheekily. "What can I say, I'm sixteen."

"Yeah. Just figuring out what sex is altogether, aren't you?"

"Not so scary any more," Harry said.

Charlie kissed him. "Yeah, no rush."

—x—

Having not had anything specific in mind, they had taken a walk while they were looking for somewhere to eat. It was…very nice, Harry decided.

It was more than nice, really. Charlie smiled at him.

"What?" Harry wondered.

"Nothing." Charlie reached out and ran a hand through Harry's messy hair. "You hungry yet?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Why? Have you seen something you like, then?"

"Italian, I think," Charlie answered.

"Safe choice," Harry agreed. Charlie chuckled. "Pizza or pasta, now, that's a hard one," he joked. "Or lasagne… Oh."

"What?"

Harry patted his stomach. "Lasagne is so good. Yeah, definitely Italian."

"I don't know, Harry," Charlie teased. "I think I want Japanese, instead. I've changed my mind."

Harry shook his head. "Uh-uh, can't do that. Once you've said—"

Charlie kissed him. Right there, in the middle of the street among all those Muggles. It wasn't a long kiss, or even a proper snog, just a quick peck. It still warmed Harry down to his toes. "Ever told you how bloody brilliant you are, mate?" Charlie asked as he grabbed Harry's hand.

Harry shrugged. "No. Never." He tightened the grip he had of Charlie's hand as he let himself be led towards the restaurant.

—x—

The food had been excellent, almost too delicious, really, as had the dessert. They'd walked back to Grimmauld – the long route rather than the short. Harry'd chosen it merely because he was feeling giddy and deliriously happy, and just a little because Charlie had taken hold of his hand in the middle of the park. The park had been just a few hundred metres or so away from the restaurant, so Harry had of course taken advantage of that almost immediately.

It was the first time since he was a kid he'd actually held someone's hand for longer than a few minutes. It wasn't as awkward as he remembered it to be, and the tingles down his spine were very welcome this time round. And that was why they were taking the long way home, strolling leisurely rather than walking briskly.

Harry suspected Charlie had cast some kind of spell on them, because the Muggles didn't seem to notice them. It was a bit disconcerting at times, but also very pleasant.

"How 'bout we try out the tumblers I gave you?" Charlie'd asked when they could see Grimmauld Place in the distance.

"I thought you said I wasn't legal yet?"

Charlie grinned. "Yeah, I did. But I am."

"True," Harry agreed with a small smile. Some of the boys in Gryffindor had started drinking, yeah. Harry'd mostly stayed away from it because he was afraid what he'd do if he became drunk. But if it were just him and Charlie? "Maybe just a sip?"

What could possibly happen?

—x—

It turned out a lot could possibly happen when you combined Harry Potter, Charlie Weasley and a bottle of whiskey. There had been an innocent game of cards that had not ended nearly as innocently. Well, not that they'd started playing strip poker or something like that, no. Just the ordinary kind. If there now was an 'ordinary kind' when Harry Potter was involved.

But whiskey, it turned out, made Harry rather impish.

"Harry," Charlie drawled.

"Yes?" Harry was proudly laying down his hand. Four nines, he had. A guaranteed win. He was feeling very pleased with himself. Especially because Charlie only had a full house. Harry smirked gleefully. The pile of toffees was his. Success!

"I have a full house."

"My hand is better." Harry was carefully unwrapping one of the toffees. "Mmmmm," he hummed, popping it in his mouth.

"Oh, really?"

Harry nodded.

"I have two nines here, Harry," Charlie pointed out. "How can you have four nines?"

Harry blinked. Charlie was tapping his own hand, where there were two nines, just like Charlie'd said. "Bugger."

"Finite Incantatem." Charlie pointed his wand at Harry's cards. Two of the nines shimmered, then transformed back into the two and three they'd been. "Cheating, are we?"

Harry shook his head. "No, no. M'just helping myself win better. Honest. I love toffees."

"Don't you know what they do to cheats, Harry?"

Harry's eyes were really wide. "M'not cheating!"

Charlie's grin was dangerous. "So you said."

When Charlie pounced, Harry didn't stand a chance. He did manage a rather embarrassing squeal, though, before Charlie tackled him to the ground.

"Cheats are stripped naked, Harry, coated in tar, then covered in feathers."

Harry shook his head. His glasses were threatening to slide off, so Charlie removed them entirely, setting the somewhere safe. "Didn't cheat." Harry's grin was playful. "Just made sure I'd win the toffees. They're so good," he breathed.

"Hmmm," Charlie said. "So I just strip you naked, then?"

Harry giggled. "Why d'you want to do that?"

Charlie raised an eyebrow.

"Ooooh!" Harry said. "I don't want that." He squirmed out from under Charlie and had almost made it to the door when Charlie caught up with him. Only this time Harry was prepared. He waved his wand, not really speaking an incantation or anything, but Charlie's hair still changed colour. His own did, too.

Blue.

Charlie laughed. With a flick of his own wand, their hair was restored. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders, turned him around, then pushed him down on the bed.

Harry landed with a bounce and started laughing. He was up on his knees, still bouncing, in a flash. He'd forgotten how much fun it could be to jump on beds. But then Charlie was there, on his knees too, and Charlie wasn't as interested in bouncing on the bed as Harry. Well, not that kind of bouncing, anyway. Charlie hugged Harry close and kissed him.

"Mmmm," Harry agreed. Kissing was rather nice. "Can we play more cards if I promise not to cheat?"

"We can play for kisses."

"I like kisses."

"So do I." After a longer, more intense kiss, Charlie added, "Why don't we just skip the cards completely, mate?"

Harry cocked his head to the side. He had rather liked the game of cards, to tell the truth. Of course, he rather liked kissing Charlie, too.

"Obviously, if you have to think about it, I'm not doing it right," Charlie declared.

"Paper, scissor, stone! C'mon." Harry shifted back and stretched out his hand. Bemused, Charlie did the same. "Okay? One, two three!"

Charlie did stone.

Harry crowed. "I win!" He wrapped his 'paper' round Charlie's 'stone'. "Ha!"

"And what did you win?"

Harry smirked, looking very pleased with himself. "I won, so I decide. And I decide that you should take your T-shirt off." He nodded, gesticulating with his hands that Charlie should get on with it.

With a roll of his eyes, Charlie tugged his T-shirt off. His head almost stuck in the opening, which his hair suffered for. Harry, though, seemed more interested in something a little bit south of Charlie's head.

"You're, like, a total hunk," Harry murmured. He'd noticed that Charlie was rather broad in the shoulder department, of course he had. He'd just not translated that into muscles. Which Charlie had plenty of. His chest was really broad. "You've got more hair than me," Harry lamented. "I've just got one."

"One hair?" Harry nodded. "Why don't you show me?" Charlie leered. Harry was on to him at once.

"Aha! You're trying to cheat now, Charlie! Don't think I don't notice." Harry tapped the side of his nose.

"'Course not," Charlie agreed. He reached out with one hand, cupped Harry's chin and pulled him in for a kiss. "Again?"

Harry nodded. "One, two, three."

This time Harry did scissors, but Charlie did stone again. "Ooops," Harry said.

Charlie smoothed his hands down Harry's stomach. Harry's breath hitched, and suddenly it felt like something in his stomach, but lower, was on fire. "Off with this, I believe," Charlie whispered in his ear and began pulling Harry's T-shirt up.

Harry's breath hitched. "M'kay," he agreed. He helped Charlie get it off, then reached for Charlie. Harry ran his hands through Charlie's wild hair, tucking the longer fringe behind Charlie's ears. "You've got freckles on your ears," Harry whispered.

"I've got freckles everywhere, it feels like."

"Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think I want to play any more." Charlie's hands were still stroking Harry's chest. One of them found Harry's single chest hair and gave a little tug. Harry laughed. "Don't pull it out. S'the only one I've got. Not like you…" Harry move one hand down to Charlie's chest, letting his fingers run through the auburn curls.

"Hmmm," Charlie agreed. "So what shall we do instead?"

Harry pretended to think. "Snog?"

Charlie grinned. "Not a bad idea, now that you mention it."

"I know. S'brill, innit?" Harry tugged on Charlie's head, just enough so that Charlie's mouth was within reach.

—x—

If Harry was a bit paler than usual, and rather peaky, when he showed up on their doorstep, Derek chose not to comment on the fact and Harry felt immensely grateful.

"G'morning," he muttered.

"Good morning, Harry. Why don't you come inside?" Nodding sleepily, Harry followed Derek inside and only then slipped off the sunglasses Charlie had been…kind enough to conjure for him to replace them with his usual pair. He made a beeline for the sofa in Derek's sitting room. It was very comfy, soft and bloody wonderful. He made himself very much at home on it.

Harry heard Derek laugh. "Oh, Harry," he said.

"Tired," Harry mumbled. "Early."

It was only a little after half past seven, he knew that much because Charlie'd had to get up early. Something about Order business. Harry who had been having the most wonderful sleep in his life had been woken by a very vindictive Charlie. "If I've to be up, then so do you," Charlie'd told him.

"Charlie's mean to me," he complained to Derek, who only laughed at him again. Moments later, Harry felt a blanket being spread out over him. Harry burrowed deeper into the sofa, snuggling contently with the blanket.

—x—

Harry was woken almost exactly two hours later by Derek. "Hey, sleepy," Derek murmured at him.

"'Lo," Harry mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles. Derek made sure he was sitting up properly, then handed him a cuppa and a toast with honey.

"Tom has been very…ecstatic, this morning," Derek told him while Harry ate his breakfast. It wasn't much, but, well. He was hung-over. The almost plain toast and the chamomile tea was just enough, in his opinion.

Harry grinned crookedly. "Yeah, I was right ecstatic, too. My…relatives too, come to think of it. Not, you know, that I was going away to be a wizard. Just that I was…going away. Far away." Harry'd always secretly believed that the Dursleys had been more than a little disappointed that Harry'd actually survived the entire year. "They never cared."

"We care." Derek was sitting very still, his blue eyes uncharacteristically dull. "Our son is going away for an entire term into a magical world we can't follow him into. How are we supposed to feel?"

Harry couldn't answer that, so he just shrugged. "I dunno. I mean, I get that it's hard, of course I do, but…I can't relate, y'know? Anyway, it's why I'm never having kids."

Derek rolled his eyes. "I was firmly convinced I didn't want children until about month after Beka and Tom had moved in, Harry. I don't think Alec was more keen on the idea than I was, but if you have the chance, Harry, don't miss it."

Harry shrugged. "It's just not something I've ever thought about, you know?"

"I know." Derek nudged his still hands. "Now, drink your tea, then we have to go.

Supressing a sigh, Harry did as he was told.

"Hi Harry!" Tom chirped in his ear, having come up behind him. 'Overexcited' just didn't cover it.

Harry winced. "Hullo, Tom. You ready?"

Tom gave a slow nod. "Yes, Harry. Dad, when are we going?"

—x—

"I take it there is a secret door, somewhere?"

Harry shook his head. "Um, no, Derek. It's actually a wall you can walk through. Right over there, see?" Harry pointed at the pillar between platforms nine and ten. Derek and Alec both nodded, Alec looking very sceptical. "Well, that's platform 9¾. You just walk through it. It's some kind of illusion, I think."

"So there really is no wall." Harry nodded. Alec pursed his lips. "I see. Very…Zelda."

Derek let out a soft laugh. "If you cannot bomb it, simply pass through it?"

Alec nodded, tiny smirk on his face.

Harry shook his head, a frown on his face. Derek had made him watch Star Wars, but Zelda? He wasn't really sure he knew what that was.

"Let's go then," Derek declared. "Alec, you take Tom and I'll go with Harry," he said. Alec met Derek's gaze and nodded, then he grabbed Tom's hand and walked, rather briskly for a Muggle and first-timer, straight ahead and through the wall. Derek shuddered.

Harry smiled and pushed the cart with Tom's trunk ahead, then reached out and grabbed Derek's arm. "I'm not sure if it's protected against tripping Muggles, so don't let go, or you'll be stuck out here."

When they came through, Tom was grinning brightly at him. "That was so cool, Harry!"

Harry merely smiled. "Wait until you see Hogwarts."

"You will look out for him." It wasn't exactly a question, more a request. So Harry nodded. It made both Derek and Alec relax somewhat.

The goodbye that followed wasn't exactly tearful, but it still left Harry aching and, for the first time in all his years, sad to go. Tom hugged his parents for the longest time before finally latching on to Harry's arm like a limpet. The boy didn't even let go when Harry received his own, much shorter, hug from Derek.

Harry bit hi lip "Who'll deal with me now, Derek?"

Derek's smile was strained. It was the first time Harry'd seen any type of affection between the men; Derek and Alec had each other's hands in an iron grip. "Write. In a journal. Or letters to me. I have learned that I am no more than an 'Owl' away."

That made Harry nod, and with a shy smile said, "Look out for a big white one, then. Her name's Hedwig."

"You have an owl?" Tom burst out.

"Oh, yes. The prettiest one you'll ever see. She's at Hogwarts already."

Tom smiled, then he looked distressed again. "Don't forget to say bye to Beka for me, right?"

"We won't," Alec promised.

Then they had to leave, as the final bell went off to warn of the train's departure.

—x—

Tom appeared somewhat awkward, his eyes misty and with a forlorn expression on his face. Harry sat down next to him and wrapped an arm round the boy's shoulder, feeling very awkward and out of place himself. "Once you get to Hogwarts, Tom, you'll be too busy with school and learning magic to be sad. Of course, you'll still miss your family, I'm sure, but it'll get easier."

"…but what if I get scared, Harry? What if I have a nightmare, and—"

"I'll look out for you, all right?" Harry gently squeezed Tom's shoulder. "No matter what House you end up in, I promise I'll always help you, okay? You can come to me, no matter what."

"…even if I'm Slytherin?" Tom wanted to know, just a hint of worry on his face.

"Yes, Tom, even Slytherin."

Tom nodded a little. "It's just…my Dad, Alec, he'd have been in Slytherin, definitely. Dad said so."

"And Derek? Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw?"

Tom giggled, but soon they were discussing what House Derek would've been sorted into.

—x—

Sitting alone and cut off from the rest of the Gryffindors, Harry watched attentively as Tom nervously walked up to the Hat. He had barely sat down and put it on when the Hat cried out, "SLYTHERIN," and Harry was hardly surprised.

It'd been Malfoy who'd said so years ago, after all. 'Malfoys always end up in Slytherin.'

He didn't see why he'd expected that to change. Yeah, Tom was a sweet and shy boy, but between Derek and Alec, Harry'd no doubt that there was more to Tom than met the eye.

And Tom was a Malfoy.


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