Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Easy as Falling off a Log
Chapter 12 - Easy as Falling off a Log

 

Tonks begins to think she shouldn’t have insisted on staying for dinner, given the awkward atmosphere. She is still trying to process all the events of the last half hour.

                Seeing a little Mini-Snape running up to Regulus, Snape crying on Lucius’s shoulders, seeing Lucius comforting someone. It is all so… bizarre. Did she enter an alternate universe the moment they stepped foot onto the grounds?

                As it is Lucius’s home, he takes his usual seat at the head of the table. Draco, the sourpuss, sits on one side and Narcissa on the other, facing each other. Next to her is Tonks’ mother, then her father.

                Dora sits opposite her father, leaving a space between her and Draco. However, she might have to shuffle down one seat or two when Snape, Regulus, and Mini-Snape come down.

                As they entered the dining room, Lucius had warned her not to divulge anything she had seen with Snape upstairs, or he would end her career. She has no doubt he would carry out that threat; he certainly has enough political pull to do so. She should be bristling at the threat, but she cannot unsee what she saw upstairs.

                Snape had been her teacher for seven miserable, Potion-filled years. The man had no sense of humour, as demonstrated by the month-long detention she completed after being caught mimicking him, greasy black hair and all, using her Metamorphmagus abilities. Snape makes other people cry. Many students caved under pressure from Snape, running from class in tears: Snape was not a kind man.

                Yet, upstairs, she had seen the man at his most vulnerable. It was not as satisfying as she thought it would be. Seeing Snape exposed emotionally has demolished one of the many sacred laws of the universe - like Chudley Cannons would always lose the league. Like Leprechaun’s gold always disappears or like expecting a Goblin not to screw someone over when it comes to making a profit. Like thinking Snape is incapable of emotion.

                His own daughter made him cry. Tonks holds back a snort at the thought that the little girl has undoubtedly learned from the best, and karma has now bitten Snape on his arse.

                Then, seeing Lucius, the man who has to be one of the most ruthless wizards she has ever heard of, comforting Snape like an actual human being. Her mother has never said anything good about Lucius Malfoy, having gone to school with the wizard. From the way her mother told it, Lucius is just as incapable of emotion as Snape. Lucius showed vulnerability in a completely different way; even if she did spread this information, she doubted anyone would believe her.

                So, she is waiting for Regulus, Snape, and his daughter to come down. The conversation has been stilted since the scene in the foyer. Draco has been sending scowls towards Tonks the whole time - one of the reasons she snuck away, using the need for the facilities as an excuse.

                The spoiled little brat better be careful she doesn’t hex his face to stay that way.

                The temperature seems to drop a little more when the missing trio enters the dining room. Regulus comes in, holding the girl’s hand. It is peculiar that Snape’s not the one holding her hand. Mini-Snape must have had a proper falling out with her father.

                His dirty little secret, she had called herself before running off.

                Snape had never indicated that he had a daughter. Tonks judged her to be eight, maybe nine years old. She would have been a toddler while Tonks was still in school. Trying to imagine Snape changing nappies, on feeding duties or walking into the classroom with spit upon his pristine black robes, she has to hold back another snort of amusement. Lucius is still watching her coldly. She doesn’t want to start an incident, not when this evening means too much to her mother.

                Snape stops at the seat next to Draco, placing his hands on the back of the chair.

                “My apologies for the… interruption earlier. We had not meant to intrude on the proceedings between family members,” Snape declares.

Then, stiffly gesturing towards his daughter, Mini-Snape, with the same sullen expression, though more endearing - as Snape the elder sometimes sported - announces, “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Holly.”

He says nothing more, waiting for Regulus to seat Holly in the chair Tonks has obligingly shuffled from. Regulus carefully pushes Holly’s chair back before he or Snape sits down.

“Holly, darling,” Narcissa speaks up, “this is my sister, Andromeda, and her husband, Edward. The lovely lady sitting next to you is their daughter, Nymphadora.”

“Hello, darling,” Andromeda greets warmly.

Her father, Ted, gives her a small, equally warm smile and a slight nod.

“Wotcher,” Tonks says in a friendly manner, ignoring her first name for the time being.

Holly buries her head in Regulus’ side, who gives an awkward chuckle, “She’s feeling a little shy.”

                Tonks reminds herself to interrogate Regulus the first chance she gets. He’s known Snape’s daughter for ages, but has never mentioned her. Not once. She’s getting freaky vibes from the whole situation.

                “I’m sorry about being a brat. Before,” the girl whispers while the table is silent. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

                Tonks doesn’t miss the looks of… something inexplicable Lucius and Narcissa exchange: the Malfoys would never be so crass about showing their emotions.

                “You’re never a brat, darling,” Narcissa assures her calmly. “But your apology is appreciated.”

                Holly nods at the table, refusing to look up at anyone.

                The food appears now that everyone else has arrived.

                The conversation is stilted at first but slowly smooths along. Andromeda tells amusing anecdotes from her profession as a Healer, while Ted speaks about various laws and loopholes. Lucius would probably have made a good solicitor; he certainly knows enough about the law to manipulate it. He even entertains them with stories regarding Fudge: for someone who has him in his pocket, he certainly likes to put him down quite a lot. Not that Fudge has much sensibility.          

Tonks, instead, turns her attention to the still withdrawn Holly.

                “I’m an Auror,” she introduces the topic lightly. “Do you know what that is?”

                Holly shakes her head, her eyes still on her plate. Regulus nudges the girl slightly, encouraging her to eat.

 

ooOoo

 

Regulus appreciates Nimmy trying to engage Holly, who is still feeling raw from her emotional meltdown from earlier.

                It took him fifteen minutes to get her to calm down from her crying jag. She is a fragile little girl, still feeling the death of her grandmother and the fear that she might lose Harry too.

                He has already decided to stay behind once dinner is over instead of leaving with the Tonks. It would not surprise him to find that Tonks has camped out in his kitchen, waiting for him to return.

                “I’m like the police,” Nimmy is explaining. “I catch bad people.”

                Holly gives a listless nod.

                Turning to Severus on his other side, Regulus decides on the neutral topic of the upcoming Quidditch teams at Hogwarts. As a Chaser from his school days, he still speaks to Severus about the school teams every so often.

                Severus is slow to take to the topic to begin with, but with a bit of push from Draco, he starts to show more enthusiasm.

                “Derrick and Bole have now graduated, so we require two new Beaters,” Severus announces.

                “Crabbe and Goyle wanted to try out for the positions,” Draco adds before continuing in a more uncertain tone, “Doubt that will happen now.”

                Regulus doesn’t ask why. Crabbe and Goyle Senior were among those who betrayed the Dark Lord in June. They were preparing to flee if they hadn’t done so already. Lucius would know more since Regulus had not exchanged a single owl with them for over a decade.

                “There are still other good candidates for the position,” Severus comments, slowly cutting up his roasted lamb.

                While Severus did not have the prowess as a Quidditch player, he is still an avid fan.

                Regulus is about to ask who is going to take over as Quidditch Captain when he feels Holly leaning into his other side.

                Turning around, he sees Nimmy changing her nose to a pig snout and hair purple to entertain Holly. However, she isn’t entertained. Instead, she presses herself against Regulus to cringe away.

                Nimmy is a little put out by this. Usually, this trick is found amusing - indeed, the Weasley children were tickled at seeing it. The Auror quickly changes her features back to normal.

                Regulus pats Holly reassuringly, explaining to her about Nimmy’s powers in more detail, which calms her down but doesn’t make her feel comfortable. Changing hair colour is quite different from turning her facial features.

                Turning back to Severus, he sees his friend looking at them with a clenched jaw.

                “So, I was about to ask,” Regulus clears his throat, “who are you picking as Quidditch Captain?”

                “Montague,” Severus answers shortly, turning back to his food.

                Regulus nods. Though he has been out of touch with several former classmates, and for a good reason, he remembers Montague’s father had played Chaser for a few years and most likely passed on the same skills to his son.

                He knows this is not the dinner Narcissa or Andromeda envisioned. Both had anticipated a certain level of awkwardness. There was certainly an expectation of uncomfortable silences, of biting their tongues. Instead, they witness some drama. Regulus sympathises with Severus’s thought of protecting his daughter from the unsavoury element of becoming a target to Voldemort and his ilk. Yet, it is unfair for him to think that by hiding Holly away, he would accomplish that. All he’s managed to do is make her believe she is unwanted. She is a bright young girl, having already researched the first war. Between Harry’s letters, conversations with him and her grandmother, and her reading in Lucius’ library, she has already figured out the dangers of the war at the moment.

                Severus should have explained it all to her beforehand. Planning to stay behind after dinner, he will tell Holly as much as he safely can regarding the current war. She will understand. Even Harry has been worried about the same thing as Severus - that once people find out the connection between Harry and Holly, the young lad is confident it is not something that will stay hidden for long: Holly will be in danger.

                The rest of dinner passes quickly, thankfully. Holly clings to Regulus the whole time whilst they see the Tonks family at the carriages. Regulus spends another hour with Holly, safely secured in her room, explaining the danger they are all in and why her father thought it best to keep people in the dark about her existence.

                As he leaves, he hopes he hasn’t divulged so much as to give her nightmares.

 

ooOoo

Tonks waits for Regulus, almost patiently, the following day, whilst Molly bustles around with breakfast things. She offered to help, but after sending the butter knives flying all over the place, Molly banished her from the table to sit like a recalcitrant child, with her hands flat on the surface. Not moving and not touching anything.

                Last night, her mother convinced her to wait until morning to accost Regulus, though Tonks knows Andromeda is curious too.

                “Wotcher, Regulus,” Tonks greets the second her cousin walks into the kitchen.

                Regulus does not express any surprise that Tonks is there waiting for him.

                “After breakfast,” he announces in a firm voice, much to the curiosity of the others around them.

                Tonks, very kindly, allows Regulus to have his second cup of coffee with his breakfast before starting any conversation.

                “You know, my parents and I were amazed by the hospitality at Malfoy Manor last night,” Tonks mentions casually.

                Harry and his friends all perk up like little meerkats as they turn to her with a curious look.

                Ron snorts, asking with eagerness, “Was it full of dark objects and torture devices?”

                Tonks shakes her head, “Nothing like that. I insisted on inspecting the dungeons, and they were surprisingly clean.”

                “Well, they can’t leave evidence of their prisoners,” Ginny points out.

                Tonks is distracted from her following comment when she sees Harry exchange a look of meaning with Regulus. What is that about?

Keeping her voice casual still, she adds, “I didn’t get a chance to inspect Snape’s place, in any case. I’ve always been morbidly curious if he does sleep in a coffin. Suppose I’ll never find out.”

Curiously, everyone but Harry expresses surprise at this news.

“Snape lives at the Malfoys?” Ron chokes on his sausage. “Of course he does.”

“Are the Malfoy’s related to Professor Snape?” Hermione asks curiously, buttering her toast. “I mean, I already know Malfoy is Professor Snape’s godson, but they would have to be close family to him to live with them as well.”

“Abraxas, Draco’s grandfather, fostered Severus when he was sixteen,” Regulus explains in a voice that does not invite additional questions.

Tonks distracts everyone about the Quidditch grounds (which interest the Weasleys) and the library (which interests Hermione) while she carefully observes Harry and Regulus’s by-play missed by everyone else.

She already knows not to mention Holly. Not yet, at least. There’s something intriguing about the little girl. She stuck close to Regulus more than anyone, barely talking or eating. Unlike Snape, whose appearance did not indicate his earlier emotional breakdown, Holly’s eyes were red and slightly swollen.

                Harry does not contribute much to the conversation, choosing to remain a silent observer. He only perks up a little when Neville and Luna enter the kitchen.

                Ah, young love, she thinks. Harry is somewhat shy around the girl. He is comfortable with Luna in a way he isn’t with Hermione or Ginny, yet uncomfortable enough to be awkward about many other things. Harry might miss the looks of longing that Ginny throws at him, but Tonks catches them.

                Before Harry arrived at Headquarters, Tonks had spent a fair amount of time with the youngest Weasley, a feisty, confident girl in her own right. Ginny had told Tonks about her first year at Hogwarts, and the Auror thinks highly of the younger girl. It has taken her time, but with support from her family and multiple trips to a Mind-Healer abroad - courtesy of an unexpected windfall in the form of that Grand Prize Draw - Ginny Weasley had managed to put much of her trauma behind her. Ginny had also confessed her hero worship of Harry, and Hermione had advised her that Ginny was better off moving on rather than waiting for Harry to develop feelings for her.

                Sound advice from the bookworm, as Tonks agrees with it entirely. There’s no use in pining. Ginny’s heart might want Harry, but it looks like the boy’s heart has settled on Luna.

                Tonks has only known Luna for about a week, but she already likes the unique young Ravenclaw. Luna isn’t a complainer, but from comments from Harry and the others, and reading between the lines, Tonks has managed to understand that the young girl is often belittled and derided for her belief in creatures they don’t believe in, and also her father’s Quibbler business.

                Tonks has read occasional issues of The Quibbler, finding them hilarious. Luna might come across as someone with their head in the clouds, but she is oddly grounded. Where Hermione is logical, Luna is whimsical and creative but no less intelligent.

                Harry is very down-to-earth for a young celebrity. Not once had he asked to leave or made demands - not like some others with whom Tonks has had the ‘pleasure’ of crossing paths. Had Tonks still been of school age, she might have found herself part of the group she sees in front of her now. Except, they have had more purpose during their school years than she did and were all the more mature for it.

                “Ready, Nimmy?”

                Tonks is brought out her musings by Regulus, who has finished his breakfast and consumed enough coffee to keep him awake for the rest of the week and gives her an expectant look.

                “Absolutely,” she says. She trips on the leg of her chair as she moves away. “Oops.”

                Molly lets out an exasperated sigh, finally sitting down with her breakfast.

                Tonks follows Regulus out into one of the lesser-used rooms. After making sure it is unoccupied, he puts up the same Privacy and Silencing spells they use for an Order meeting.

                A grin of anticipation touches her lips. Finally, she is going to get answers.

                “Why can’t you leave it alone, Nimmy?” Regulus surprises Tonks with a disappointed look.

                “What?”

                “You’re here about Holly, right?”

                Tonks nods.

                “Is it any of your business? You were invited to Malfoy Manor because Andromeda and Narcissa want to be as close as they used to be when they were younger. I know how Lucius comes across. He’s never tried to hide it. But Severus and Holly are off-limits.”

                Tonks is stunned at Regulus’s words. She expected him to answer her questions, not tell her to back off.

                “What’s the big secret?” Tonks asks with a frown, a little annoyed at the lecture. “I never knew Snape had a daughter. How long have you known? Why doesn’t anyone else know? Why is he hiding her, and why was she upset with him last night?”

                Her hair cycles through many colours as she ignores everything he has said.

                “Nimmy!” he warns her. Then he sighs. “Severus has lost his spy position saving Harry. How do you think Voldemort will take it when he finds out about Severus’ daughter. Unlike the rest of the wizarding world, Severus is one of the few people who knew he wasn’t gone forever. He has spent years maintaining his cover in Hogwarts.”

                Tonks snorts. Snape was a shit teacher, and from the grumbling of the Weasleys, he’s not changed much. Having a child of his own hasn’t instilled any warm and fuzzy feelings in him. Perhaps that’s why he was such a bastard. It must be a burden for a man to know he couldn’t publicly acknowledge his daughter or spend much time with her.

                I’m no one. I’m just his dirty little secret. 

                That’s what Holly had said last night. Still, the Malfoys know her well enough, judging by how she was much more comfortable with them than with Snape. That could be explained by the fact that Snape spent more of the year at Hogwarts than with his daughter, so she would be more accustomed to spending time with Lucius and Narcissa.

                “What happened to her mother?” Tonks tries, hopefully.

                “Dead.”

                Regulus doesn’t give her more information. Like when the death occurred. Tonks would certainly like to know which witch had managed to… she stops her train of thought, her hair turning red. She did not want to think of a naked Snape. Too late.

                “Come on, Regulus,” Tonks growls. “This is juicy news. Snape has a little brat! Please, tell me she’s just like him and gives him the same shit he gives everyone else.”

                Regulus’ lips quirk into a smile.

                “They clash often enough.”

                Both their thoughts turn to last night. That was a pretty big fight.

                “You know she’ll be at Hogwarts before you know it, then the secret will be out. I might even take a year away from the Aurors and teach when she’s there,” Tonks comments idly. “I’d love to see them go at it. A teenage Mini-Snape against Daddy Snape. She was feisty.”

                Regulus lets out a startled chuckle, shaking his head at her.

                “Come on, let’s go,” he says, dispelling the Privacy and Silencing spells and opening the door, gesturing for Tonks to precede him.

                Snape made the tacit request last night, once Holly was out of earshot, to keep the evening’s events to themselves.

                “Does Sirius know?” Tonks asks as the thought occurs to her. Then again, she realises in the same instant that Sirius would have spilled the beans much sooner if he did.

                “Does Sirius know what?” asks the wizard in question, as if materialising out of thin air. Regulus glares at her, even as she shoots him an apologetic look.

                “Something that is not your business,” Regulus says sternly. She is unsure who the tone is aimed to deter, Tonks or his brother.

                Sirius gives his brother a wounded look, and Tonks feels for him. She thinks Regulus is being a little harsh on Sirius. Hitting Harry (not that she condoned Sirius’s fight with Snape in any way) was an accident, but he regrets his actions. Perhaps Regulus is punishing Sirius more than he needs to.

                “I was just asking,” Sirius mutters, looking away.

               

ooOoo

 

Harry looks down at the shiny Prefect badge in his hand disbelievingly. Across from him, Hermione shrieks in excitement as her own badge falls into her hands. Flying around the table, she tackles him in an excited hug.

                “There was never a question that you were going to get the Prefect badge,” Ron says, but Harry can hear the disappointment in his friend’s voice.

                After Hermione lets go of him to owl her parents with the news, Luna, unabashedly and nonchalantly, kisses him on the lips in congratulations. His face burns as the twins catcall him.

                “Maybe we should have tried harder to become Prefects if we got treated like that,” Fred laments.

                “We definitely missed the opportunity there, brother,” George commiserates.   

                “Shut up,” Harry mumbles, still looking at the badge with a smile as Luna rests her head on his shoulder.

                “She would have been proud as well,” she whispers in his ear.

                “Yeah,” Harry says with a lump in his throat. “Oma would have been very proud.”

                Then she would have taken him and Holly out to celebrate.

                “Well done, Harry,” Sirius congratulates him in an artificial voice. Things have been awkward between them ever since he accidentally punched Harry, and with Regulus’ overprotectiveness, Sirius is not allowed to be alone with him.

                Harry knows this mainly due to Sirius calling him James, though he had already lost consciousness when this happened.

                “Your parents would have been proud,” Sirius continues, though he looks furtively towards the door as if expecting Regulus to burst through.

                “Thanks,” Harry nods, feeling sorry for Sirius. “Was my dad a Prefect as well? I know he was Head Boy.”

                “Nah,” the other responds, relaxing at Harry’s questions. He’s probably happy that Harry isn’t refusing to talk to him as well. “We were often in too much trouble for either James or myself to get the badge. McGonagall gave it to Remus because he was the most studious of us and less of a trouble-maker. I think Dumbledore gave it to him in the hope it would keep us in check.”

                Sirius and Lupin both laugh at the memory.

                “Didn’t work, though, did it?” Regulus comments in a deceptively soft voice, walking into the kitchen.

                Sirius glowers at his brother, whilst Lupin looks away shamefully.

                Harry knows they are thinking of the incident where they had hung Snape upside down, threatening to strip his clothes, after one of their OWL exams. The incident led to the end of the friendship between his mum and Snape.

                Regulus has divulged many of these details after Harry told the older wizard about Holly under the strictest confidence. Regulus only wanted to make Harry aware of the actual reasons why Snape hated the Potter name so much. Harry had felt sorry for his suffering at the hands of the Marauders but truthfully cannot forgive him for taking out his animosity on himself. He doesn’t bother to complain about the unfairness of it, however. Living with the Dursleys has beaten that question out of him. Petunia and Snape would get on well. They can both get together and have a good laugh about making Harry’s life even more miserable.

                He shakes himself out of his bitterness about his relatives, Snape, and the Marauders. They shouldn’t matter now. He is different from all of them. He has other priorities, like learning enough to survive another battle with Voldemort - because he knows that is inevitable, no matter what the Wizarding world believes - and making sure Holly is safe.

                He is happy that Snape has agreed to have Holly and Narcissa Malfoy stay in Headquarters during the school year. He hopes to spend Christmas with Holly for the first time since he has started Hogwarts. However, it will be the first Christmas without Iris for both of them. He’s determined to spend the winter holidays with Holly, no matter what, even if he has to take her away from Snape.

                “Congratulations on making Prefect,” Regulus says in a warmer voice, pulling Harry out of his thoughts.

                “Thanks,” Harry says with a smile.

                “Albus is waiting for you in the first Parlour,” Regulus informs him. “Come on. I’ll take you there.”

                 Harry blurts out the first question. “Am I in trouble?”

                Regulus laughs. “Guilty conscience, Harry?”

                “Blimey, Harry,” Ron shakes his head. “What do you reckon Dumbledore wants? Maybe he’s giving you the Quidditch Captaincy as well.”

                Harry hears the envy in Ron’s voice. He knows he wants to try out for the Keeper position this year.

                Standing up, he recalls the Mirror of Erised and Ron’s ambitions. His father had got the Head Boy badge in his Seventh year without getting a Prefect badge in his Fifth. If Ron worked hard, he could accomplish the same, and if he bags the Keeper position and does well, he could make Quidditch Captain next year as well, considering he lives and breathes Quidditch.

                “Dumbledore’s the Headmaster,” Ginny begins scathingly, “he wouldn’t come over to give Harry the badge himself. Even McGonagall wouldn’t do that. They’d send an owl post like they did for the Prefect badge.”

                Ron flushes as Harry stands up to follow Regulus.

                He throws his arm across his shoulders, pulling him for a one-armed embrace as they walk out of the kitchen. Harry is painfully aware of Sirius’s envious eyes following them out.

                “Do you know what this is about?” Harry questions, wracking his brain. Dumbledore has been busy with the Order and the school all summer, trying to hang onto his Ministry positions against the rising difficulties of Fudge’s denial. Harry has been reading the papers, which are full of speculations, and he can see the tide is slowly turning against them.

                Fudge is the wrong Minister for an impending war. He is too deep in the pockets of the likes of Lucius Malfoy, despite his change of allegiance.

Regulus knocks on the door and is bade to enter by Dumbledore’s calm voice, distracting Harry from his thoughts.

                Harry swallows nervously. He hopes Dumbledore isn’t here to tell him he has to go back to the Dursleys; his back twinges at the very thought of it. The Order tricked them into leaving by luring them out with the promise of an award for the garden or something like that. Harry knows he will have to pay the price when he returns, but he would rather not have to return so soon. Vernon and Petunia are like Jabberknolls; they remember every slight.

                “Take a seat,” Dumbledore gestures to one of the seats in front of him. The Headmaster looks serious, and the smile is brief, but Harry doesn’t feel that Dumbledore is upset. Not with him, at least. Still, he is assured when Regulus takes the other empty seat.

                “Regulus, if you please,” Dumbledores gives a slight nod.

                Regulus casts some Security spells, and Harry quickly realises that these are the same spells they use for the Order. In his head, he thinks of the twins, who will be disappointed that their Extendable Ears will become useless once more and wonders if they will play with the enchantments to adjust them to penetrate the Privacy spells.

                Dumbledore taps his wand on the tea set already placed on the table between them. The tea begins to pour itself.

                “Congratulations on receiving your Prefect badge,” Dumbledore begins, sitting back in his chair, a cup of tea in his hand.

                 Harry nods. “Thank you, sir.”

                “I must confess, however,” Dumbledore sighs, “that I almost gave the badge to your friend, Mr Weasley.”

                Harry freezes in the act of sipping his tea.

                “Sir?”

                He’s not sure how he feels about that.

                “Not because I did not think you were not capable of the responsibility,” Dumbledore assures him placidly. “I simply believed that, given all you have already gone through, the responsibility might have been too much.”

                Harry isn’t sure how to respond, so he sips from his cup.

                Dumbledore merely smiles. “Minerva and Regulus have convinced me that you will rise to the occasion, no matter what.”   

             “I will, sir,” Harry replies.

                Iris would have been pleased and proud that he was selected as Prefect. She has always encouraged him to be at his best, not hide his intelligence. He knows he and Hermione have the highest marks in their year for Gryffindor, though Hermione has the highest test scores overall for their year.

                “I believe in you,” Dumbledore continues to smile reassuringly.

                Harry nods. However, he wonders why he has been summoned in the first place. Surely, it’s not for Dumbledore to explain himself about giving him the Prefect badge.

Seeing Harry’s expression, Dumbledore’s smile fades.

“I see you are aware that I have requested your presence for another reason,” the Headmaster exhales.

By the way Dumbledore places his cup of tea back on the table and leans forward, Harry suspects this will be a serious conversation.

He manages not to startle when Regulus, who has so far been silent, places his hand on his shoulder.

“Regulus tells me you have learned the art of Occlumency and are quite good at it,” Dumbledore begins.

“Yes, sir,” Harry nods. He always practices it before going to bed and even sometimes throughout the day when he is reading a particularly dry school text. “Oma taught me.”

Dumbledore gives a nod of his own.

“Would you mind, perhaps, if I verified for myself?”

Regulus squeezes his shoulder reassuringly.

“Go ahead,” Harry gives his permission.

Withdrawing his wand once more, Dumbledore looks into Harry’s eyes.

With a soft, “Legilimens,” he is in.

Harry’s mindscape is the same park where he first met Holly. It is empty, eerily so. Harry has a gentle breeze flowing through every so often, which causes the swings in his mind to sway gently, and the Merry-Go-Round to rattle. Leaves pick up from the ground and float gently around the slide; branches shift above.

It takes Harry almost a minute before he manages to detect Dumbledore’s presence in his mind. He detects an invisible manifestation near the gates at the edge of the park. As if trying to exit from the shield to access the rest of his memories. When he does, the mild breeze becomes a biting wind. Thunderstorms circle above; lightning resonates, and the skies become cloudier than before.

A clang echoes as the intruder becomes trapped inside the park. The wind blows him back towards the playground, where all the equipment goes berserk, thrashing violently. Eventually, the intruder gets knocked out of Harry’s mind by the swings knocking into him.

Harry rubs his scar, feeling it twinge as he comes back into the room, only to find Dumbledore smiling at him with a pleased look.

“Those are unique shields, Harry. Effective, nonetheless. You did well to get me out, but the goal is also to make sure no one enters in the first place. May I try once more?”

Harry takes a deep breath and nods his permission once more. He knows Dumbledore will try harder to get beyond the park gate, and he must stop him.

Legilimens.”

Harry fortifies his shields again, not allowing him more than a glimpse of the green park before he knocks Dumbledore back out.

“Eileen has trained you well,” Dumbledore praises.

Harry flushes at the compliment.

“Now, let’s get to why I asked you to be there,” Dumbledore clears his throat, tucking his wand back up his sleeve. “Do you remember, Harry, what the first question you asked me at the end of your first year?”

Harry remembers the question clearly. It was the only one Dumbeldore had refused to answer at the time.

“Why was Voldemort after me in the first place?” Harry dutifully repeats with a dry mouth.

Was he about to get his question answered?

Harry listens to Dumbledore with mounting dread. Sometimes getting answers answered is not always a good thing.

 

ooOoo

 

Holly is sitting in her room reading over her letters from Harry again. Artemis is sitting on the perch in the darkened corner of her room. Uncle Lucius added it in when the black owl spent more time with Holly than he did in the Owlery. 

                Holly doesn’t mind. Back at home, Holly had a similar perch for Hedwig. She desperately misses Harry and Hedwig, having seen neither of them for more than a minute or two the whole summer. Uncle Regulus comes over with a letter every time he visits, taking one away from Holly for Harry.

                After being told about the war, Holly is even more worried about Harry. He’s in danger. Some mad wizard is after him. The same one who is after… Mr Snape. In fact, the mad wizard will hurt everyone who stands in his way.

                She is beginning to wonder if she will ever see Harry again. She tells herself that exchanging letters via Regulus is better than not communicating at all.

           As mad as she was at Mr Snape the previous week about being taken from the care home, she knows she is lucky to stay in a huge house like this.

                She was angry at Mr Snape for hiding her away. Her Mamma used to do the same - as if she was ashamed of having a daughter. Holly doesn’t remember much about living with her mother, just being unwanted. Before Mamma died, Holly remembered her harsh words, the pain, the hunger, and the loneliness that only went away when she was with Oma and Harry.

                With her mind still clouded by these thoughts, she carefully puts Harry’s letter away. Looking at the clock, she wishes she could go outside. However, after last week's dinner, she learned her lesson. Mr Snape wants her out of the way -  then, she will stay out of the way.

                She pulls out a book Harry bought for her before his fourth year at Hogwarts. It was part of Roald Dahl’s collection: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. They read it together. Harry thought Roald Dahl was probably a wizard or a squib who changed some details and decided to publish the bizarre book in the muggle world. Reading about snozberries and gum that tastes like breakfast, lunch and dinner, Holly is inclined to believe that only magic could make stuff like that happen.

                She only gets to the part where Charlie finds the golden ticket when there’s a knock on her door.

                “Come in,” she calls absently, head still stuck in her book. She thinks it’s probably Mr Snape coming to tell her to stay in her room whilst Draco’s friends are visiting.

                “Hey, Holly.” It is instead Draco himself that greets her, entering her room cautiously. “My friends are here.”

                “It’s all right. I’ll stay in my room,” she replies, wanting to roll her eyes, still not looking up from her book though she isn’t reading it.

                “They’re outside. I thought I’d introduced you all to each other,” Draco explains, rubbing the back of his neck.

                Holly does look up at him then. She is unaware of how much she reminds Draco of her father at that moment.

                “Really?” She doesn’t know if she wants to meet Draco’s friends. They’re all going to be older than her…

                “Uncle Severus said it’s okay. If that’s what you were thinking,” Draco mutters, looking at her hopefully.

                “You really want me to meet them? Don’t you want to spend time with the older kids by yourself?”

                “Of course I want you to meet them,” Draco tells her plaintively. “Can I invite them in?”

                Holly nods cautiously, drawing her knees to her chest and pressing the book close to her. Draco, who hadn’t closed the door entirely, pulls it wider open to allow his friends to enter.

                “Everyone, this is Holly. Uncle Sev’s daughter,” Draco introduces proudly.

                Holly is surprised that he is allowed to tell them that. What made Mr Snape change his mind about hiding her away? They walk in, curiously looking around her room before settling their eyes on her.

                “Holly, these are my friends. This is Daphne and her sister Astoria,” Draco announces, pointing to two girls, similar in appearance, with dark hair and pale-skinned. The older one looks at Holly with cool eyes at first; the younger one seems more friendly. Both nod at her with polite smiles.

                “Theo,” Draco points at another boy. He is tall and skinny, also with dark hair. His skin is darker, as if he has been in the sun all summer.

                “Blaise.” The boy, naturally dark-skinned, gives her a warmer smile than any of the others that reaches his lovely brown eyes.

                “And finally, my girlfriend, Pansy,” Draco introduces the girl last, confidently taking her hand.

                “Hi,” Holly greets somewhat shyly, immediately reciprocating by most of them.

                “Draco’s taking us down to the Quidditch pitch,” Pansy says after an awkward moment of silence when no one else speaks. “Do you want to come with us?”

                “You really want me to hang out with you?” Holly asks uncertainly.

                 Blaise nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, come on! It’ll be fun!”

                Holly places her Willy Wonka book on the nightstand, then hops off the bed towards where she kicked off her shoes earlier. Feeling self-conscious, she sits down on the floor to put her shoes on then ties them up as they watch her inquisitively.

                Standing up, she looks at them expectantly, but when no one moves, she is the one to prompt, “Are we going to pitch?”

                “Oh? Yeah,” Draco flushes. “Let’s go.”

                He holds out his hand to hold hers.

                “I know the way,” Holly says derisively. She doesn’t need to hold Draco’s hand like a baby.

                “Right,” Draco mumbles as the rest snigger at him. He leads the way as Pansy takes his hand instead. Holly follows behind everyone slowly.

                Once out on the Quidditch pitch, Draco heads off towards the broom shed to pick out some brooms for his friends, and Pansy and Blaise go with him.

                Holly is now left with Theo and the two sisters looking at each other speculatively.

                “So, Professor Snape is your father?”

                Not wanting to answer that question, Holly shoots back one of her own, “You always call him Professor, even if you’re not at school?”

                Daphne and Theo give each other weird smiles.

                “It’s respectful,” Astoria answers when no one else does. “We like him. He’s a good teacher.”

                Not according to Harry, Holly can’t help but think. He’s horrible to him - and his friends.

         She looks towards the sky. It’s getting a little cloudy, but it seems to be good flying weather: the ground is dry, which is for the best.

                Draco and the others take ages picking out brooms. Holly, feeling slightly overwhelmed, steps back from the others. They keep staring at her like she’s a monkey at the zoo, so she decides to show them a few tricks.

                She does a handstand, not looking at them. Then she does a cartwheel. Then another. Then another one, until she is several feet away from them.

                Draco comes up to her first, holding his broom in one hand and a rolled-up skipping rope in the other.

                “Thanks, Draco,” Holly smiles up at him. She should have brought up her own. She didn’t know there were skipping ropes in the broom shed.

                Draco smiles back at her, and they walk together towards the rest of the group. Blaise is carrying a box Holly knows contain all the Quidditch balls, while Pansy is holding out the rest of the brooms for the others to select.

                While tidying the bristles on his broom, Theo asks, “What was the thing you were doing?”

                “Cartwheels,” Holly answers shortly. “It’s part of my gymnastics.”

                “What’s gymnastics?” Astoria immediately intervenes, pronouncing the word carefully.

                “It’s just an exercise muggles do for agility and coordination,” Draco explains to them as if they are idiots.

                Holly hides a smile. Draco only knows that because of all Uncle Lucius's books from Waterstones.

                Then, the interest in gymnastics is taken over when Daphne offers a “girls against boys” challenge with a cold smile.

                Draco nods in agreement as he opens up the box, picking up the quaffle.

                “First one to a hundred,” he smirks.

                “What’s the bet?” Pansy queries.

                Draco shrugs. “Losers have to do a hundred skips on the rope,” 

                “What? Skips on what rope?” Blaise asks.

                Draco grins. “Show them, Holly,”

                Holly unravels the rope, knowing that Draco has been practising with the skipping rope in his room. She also knows Uncle Lucius has been practising in secret as well. Taking a step back, Holly demonstrates how to use it.

                “You know how to do that?” Daphne questions incredulously.

                “Like it’s hard,” Draco shrugs, but he doesn’t dare to look at Holly. She knows it took Draco time before he could coordinate properly, but she won’t embarrass him by telling his friends the truth.

                “Don’t you want to fly with us?” Astoria suddenly asks Holly, and Draco answers for her. 

                “She doesn’t like heights.”

                Holly ignores them as she continues silently with her skipping rope.

                They all mount their brooms and take off. Holly pauses with her skipping rope to watch. They line up in the centre, girls on one side and boys on the other. Then, Draco launches the quaffle high into the air. Everyone follows it with their eyes as it rises above them and then begins to fall.

                All three boys chase after the quaffle, whereas only Pansy dives beside the ball and the other two fly towards the goals. Their confidence that Pansy will get the quaffle first is not misplaced, as she grabs it before Blaise does. She flies with it, rushing past Theo, who swerves to chase after her.

                Pansy throws it towards Astoria, who catches it, flies back towards Pansy but throws it over her shoulder to her sister Daphne.

                Holly thinks this is much more fun to watch than Draco up in the air by himself.

                Much laughter and shouting are heard coming from the flyers. Holly smiles widely and claps as she watches them fly.

 

ooOoo

                Draco is distracted by Holly’s yells, having never heard her so animated. He smiles at the thought that he has managed to make her happy and wishes his friends had come over sooner. Daphne could be a bitch sometimes, and Theo could be creepy, but Blaise and Astoria were politer than the others; even Pansy can be catty, but for Draco’s sake, she would have made an effort.

                Missing a throw from Theo, distracted by Holly, he curses and dives after the quaffle before Daphne can reach it.

                Swerving on his broom, he throws the quaffle back to Blaise, who catches it and throws it towards the central goal. Astoria misses, and the boys are in the lead by twenty points.

                They are smirking widely twenty minutes later when they land. It was a close game, but Theo scored the winning goal, breaking the tie. The girls follow behind - Pansy scowling at the defeat, Daphne giving her usual unaffected shrug whilst Astoria shakes her head in disappointment.

                “You each owe me a hundred skips,” Draco glows.

                “How do we do it again?” Astoria asks unenthusiastically.

                “Holly will show you,” Draco tells them. “I’ll go get some extra ropes.”

                He flies off towards the broom shed again, not checking to see if Holly is indeed demonstrating once more.

                He is happy to have won, and his contentment will only increase when he sees the girls fall to the ground as they try to coordinate the jumping and swinging of the rope. Then, when they give up, he will effortlessly show them how it’s done. He can’t do a hundred in one go, but he can do thirty-seven.

                He grabs the remaining six ropes instead of picking up only three and flies back to the group. Dumping three of them on the ground next to the box, he throws the other three towards the girls, forcing them to bend to pick them up.

                They do so with a dirty look in his direction.

                Holly watches them with interest while Draco crosses his arms across his chest.

                “Go on, then,” he goads.

                He stands in front of Daphne whilst Theo watches Astoria, and Blaise is in front of Pansy – ready to count for them.

“Make sure they each do the full hundred. No cheating,” Draco crows, but the triumphant smirk falls from his face as each of the girls manages to use the skipping rope without the same fumbling and falling he did his first time. They stumble a little; none fall as Draco did.

Holly gives him a sideways look that he catches and grins at him. He looks away, finishing counting Daphne’s skips, who completes her set first.

“One hundred,” Theo counts. “You’re done, Tori.”

“This is fun,” Astoria pants as she continues swinging and jumping, earning a roll of eyes from Daphne, whilst Pansy throws her rope down as soon as Blaise tells her she’s done her hundred skips as well.

Blaise picks it up and looks at it curiously.

“Muggles just swing this rope for exercise?” he asks, interested.

Sensing he might get his entertainment from Blaise or Theo, Draco encourages, attempting to sound more knowledgeable than he is, “There are all sorts of muggle exercises.”

Casually, he adds, “Holly is muggle raised, so she knows some of them.”

Narcissa and Severus had taken Draco's friends aside when they came in through the Floo with their parents, explaining Holly’s existence quickly. No one knew that Severus had only found out about his daughter at the end of term or that she had only been living with them for the past several weeks.

They spun the story to make it seem like Holly spent time in the Muggle world growing up while professor Snape was at Hogwarts. Most knew that the Potions Master was half-blood. Purebloods are raised on knowing family lines and connections, so it was not like Severus could get away with making it seem like he was Pureblood. Apart from the fact that none of his students would dare question Professor Snape, even if he is their Head of House, Severus keeps enough of his life private to come across as enigmatic.

Holly doesn’t like to talk about Severus being her father. All efforts Draco has made to speak up on behalf of his godfather have gone to waste. Holly is simply unwilling to listen, though Draco is stubborn enough to keep trying.

However, they can’t bank on Holly, who can be unpredictable with other people, to keep quiet about her muggle background. Draco is keeping close to Holly to see what she says about her family so he can then report back to his parents and Severus, in order for them to spin the story around.

All the parents and Severus are locked up in his father’s study, discussing the way forward. The Crabbe and Goyle families had already fled within the first week of term ending. Lucius hadn’t told Draco much about it, having decided it was best for everyone to know as little as possible. Crabbe and Goyle might be from an old family line, but neither generation was brilliant: they are little more than muscle, so fleeing the country was their best option.

Draco wishes them well, wherever they are, and hopes to see them again one day. He’s always treated them like dumb little brothers he could boss around. He could lose Theo and Pansy soon as well, depending on the outcome of today’s meeting.

To Draco’s consternation, neither Blaise nor Theo falls on their faces when they have their turn at the skipping rope. They struggle, though not as severely as Draco did. He still shows off his skipping, given all the effort he put into learning it.

His father told him he was planning on including it in their lessons somehow - an idea from Regulus to use to improve footwork when duelling.

Draco decides not to pass this information on to his friends. An advantage is an advantage, after all.

Astoria and Blaise ask Holly to demonstrate her gymnastics again, eagerly trying to emulate them. When showing a backflip, Holly stumbles on the landing.

“Are you hurt?” Blaise asks gently, helping her back up.

“Yeah,” she grimaces. “My foot slipped.”

“Do you need help?” Draco presses.

Holly tells them she’s fine, so they continue, though Blaise or Astoria can’t do more than try cartwheels, and neither attempt to do any sort of flip.

Both Daphne and Theo altogether refuse to roll around on the ground, so Draco leads everyone up to his bedroom after half an hour. Holly trails at the back again, and Draco has to remind her she is still welcome to stay with the group. She stays with them, though she is hesitant about it.

Once there, Draco summons a House-Elf to bring drinks and food. The parents will be having lunch in his father’s study, and Draco has already emptied his study desk for the sandwiches the House-Elves send up for them.

Holly cautiously sits on Draco’s bed, crossing her legs under her. Draco hands her a plate of sandwiches and places her orange juice on his nightstand, so it is still within reach. He doesn’t see his friends exchange looks behind him at his behaviour. He has never been this considerate before.

“What else did you learn in the Muggle world?” Pansy opens up the conversation.

Draco believes that the others probably think Severus had a muggle girlfriend or wife; otherwise, why else would his child have grown up there?

Holly doesn’t answer straight away, looking at Theo through narrowed eyes. Draco hides a grin behind his sandwich. She looks like a cute version of his godfather. He is not sure if he can ever get through a dressing down from Severus without thinking of how cute Holly is.

“I learned to mind my business,” Holly answers, returning to her sandwich.

Blaise and Astoria laugh at Pansy’s expression. Again, Holly’s blunt manner is reminiscent of their Head of House. In a way, Holly’s answers demonstrate what none of them expected but wanted to show: that Snape has raised his daughter. Her own recalcitrant behaviour works in their favour. Draco only wonders how his parents are handling the others.

 Astoria happily bites into her sandwich. “Professor Snape has been Head of Slytherin for years. He’s never mentioned he had a child before.”

“Why should he?” Holly shrugs.

They all exchange looks again.

“Draco, at least, only recently knows about you,” Theo goes on, giving her a calculating look.

“Yes,” Daphne agrees quietly. “Draco wasted no time telling anyone who would listen that Professor Snape was his godfather. There’s no way he could have kept quiet about you.”

Draco flushes as they all laugh at him.

“I can keep a secret,” he weakly defends himself.

They all give him disbelieving looks.

“You might not give up a secret, Draco, but you can never keep your mouth shut about knowing more than someone else,” Blaise chuckles.

Draco scowls at their words. He’s not like that at all.

“Besides, Professor Snape rarely goes home for the Christmas holidays,” Astoria pipes up, ignoring Draco.

Holly watches them all pull apart the mystery of her existence.

                Suddenly, with the innocent but insatiable curiosity typical of someone who has grown up in almost a completely different reality, Theo takes the lead.

              “What’s the muggle world like?” he queries, studying Holly carefully.

                Theo is the only Slytherin attending Muggle Studies at Hogwarts. His father is mostly absent from his life, leaving him to grow up with their House-Elves, while his mother died whilst he was still young. Left chiefly to his own devices, Theo tends to get lost in research and puzzles. He usually doesn’t like interacting with people but is fascinated by how the world works.

                “Crowded,” Holly answers dryly. She doesn’t elaborate any further, instead concentrating on her food.

                Once they have eaten and the dishes are taken away, the discussion turns to Hogwarts, particularly neutral topics like their upcoming OWLs. Astoria listens with half an ear as she examines Draco’s old school books he still keeps on his shelf.

Pansy looks over the junk Draco removed from his trunk a few days ago - loose sheaves of parchment, old wrappers from sweets and chocolates. A mashed-up but still edible cauldron cake. Several Potter Stinks badges. Wrapping paper from Christmas presents, broken quills.

“Do you have any more Chocolate Frogs?” Pansy asks.

Draco opens the drawer on his nightstand, bringing out his stash of chocolates to share. He throws a Chocolate Frog on the bed for Holly, helping himself to a Liquorice Wand.

As they consume those treats, Blaise suggests they play chess.

“I’ll play you a game,” Daphne offers, and they set up the board on Draco’s bed.

“Do you want to play Gobstones, Holly?” Astoria asks, picking up Draco’s set.

Holly nods and scrambles from the bed with a pleased smile. Draco has played Gobstones with her before, and she is surprisingly good at the game.

“Are you planning on keeping these forever?” Pansy holds up a Potter Stinks badge for all to see.

Draco smirks. He was pleased with himself for coming up with those badges.

 Blaise instead shakes his head. “Juvenile.”

“Ah, really, Pansy. Do you really want to get him started on that?” Theo bemoans.

Holly gives the badge a curious look. “What is it?”

Pansy throws it to the floor in front of Holly instead of placing it back on his desk like she originally intended.

“Draco’s obsession,” Astoria teases, looking up from her game.

Support Cedric Diggory. The REAL Hogwarts Champion, it reads.

“Who’s Cedric Diggory?”

“He was a boy in Hufflepuff,” Blaise answers sombrely when no one speaks up. “A part of the Triwizard Champion that was held at the school last year.”

“Oh, he’s the one who died, right?” Holly responds hesitantly.

Draco hides his surprise at her knowledge but then remembers Regulus probably explained all of that to her when he was there last time.

“Was he your friend?”

 Daphne answers for them all. “No.”

“It was nice of you to support him, though,” Holly continues.

“Press it,” Draco tells her, and Holly obligingly presses the centre of the badge.

Potter Stinks, it now reads.

Holly gives the badge a frown.

“Who is Potter?”

The group lets out a collective groan.

Astoria rolls her eyes. “Harry Potter.”

“Was he a Champion as well?” Holly queries, still studying the badge.

“Yes,” Draco grunts. The monosyllabic response is indicative of a clear dislike.

“You don’t like him?”

Daphne smirks. “Draco doesn’t.”

The boy in question glowers at her.

“Why?” Holly presses.

“He cheated his way into the tournament,” Draco mutters, recalcitrant.

“Actually, no. He didn’t,” Theo interjects in a mild tone that admits no further reply. They all fall silent. They know it was a cruel deception by the Dark Lord. No one delves into that subject, however.

Blaise lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Draco’s been obsessed with Harry Potter for years. Always used to show off how he’d be your friend first: didn’t you, Draco?”

Pansy laughs.

“Then, when Draco offered his hand to Potter, Potter refused to be friends with him,” Pansy continues.

“And that was the beginning of Draco’s obsession with Harry Potter,” Theo groans.

“He’s the Boy-Who-Lived, isn’t he?”  Holly continues to push. “Is he special?”

They all let out a collective groan again.

“Please, don’t tell us Holly is obsessed with him too?” Blaise moans, making Astoria giggle. “Must you corrupt the little one?”

“I barely talk about him,” Draco mumbles, his face still red.

“Then why did you make the badges?” Holly asks, still frowning.

“To bring him down a peg,” Draco snaps but regrets it instantly, though Holly doesn’t notice.

“Is he a bully?”

“He acts like he owns the castle,” Draco answers frustratedly.

“But has he ever hurt you? Personally?” Holly continues to question him.

Draco falls silent.

“He hexed me and my friends on the train,” he finally snarls.

“You did deserve it,” Astoria points out grimly. “Especially after what you said about Diggory.”

They all give him serious looks. Draco does tend to mouth off, but no one riles him up more than Potter.

If he has to be honest, Potter has never done anything to him personally other than rejecting him. He’s not going to admit it out loud, in any case.

“You’re the one bullying him, aren’t you?” Holly asks with a displeased tone.

Everyone has fallen silent as they watch. Draco still doesn’t answer.

Holly stands up, leaving her game of Gobstones.

“I’ve noticed, Draco, that you don’t know how to be kind,” she tells him sadly, a note of melancholy clashing with her childlike face.

She walks out without looking at any of them.

Draco is too distracted by censure to notice that she is limping, but Theo and Daphne do.

 Blaise shakes his head. “She’s not wrong, Draco,”

“Like any of you even know how to be kind either,” Draco growls at them defensively, crossing his arms on his chest.

                “Unlike you, we know how and when to keep quiet,” Theo responds derisively.

                “Aren’t you going to go after her?” Astoria asks pointedly.

                “She’s a grudge holder,” Draco confesses. “Just like her father. She won’t let me in the door.”

                “The adults are having their discussion,” Daphne says, moving away from the chess set.

                Sensing the severe nature of the conversation, they all look to Daphne. Blaise pushes himself away from the game, too. Pansy moves away from Draco’s desk.

                “We should have our own,” Daphne finishes, knowing she has their attention.

                “What did you want to talk about?” Draco asks warily.

                Daphne looks first at Blaise and Theo.

                “Theo and I didn’t get the Prefect badge,” Blaise opens the conversation. “That means you did.”

                None of them even entertain the thought that Crabbe or Goyle might have been offered the badge, even if they were in the country to accept them.

                “Yeah,” Draco smirks. He found it in his envelope a few days ago. “Why wouldn’t I?”

                “Because you don’t deserve it,” Blaise grumbles.

                Draco feels a wave of anger come over him.

                “Why don’t I?” he snaps.

                “You were only made Prefect because Snape’s your godfather,” Daphne points out coldly, voicing the thoughts of everyone but Pansy.  

                “No, that’s not true,” Pansy comes to his defence.

                “Like you didn’t get the job because you’re a teacher’s pet as well,” Blaise scorns.

                Blaise is usually more laid back than this, and Draco can’t help but wonder why he is so affected by who was appointed Prefect and who wasn’t.

                “I didn’t know you wanted the Prefect badge,” Draco mutters sullenly.

                “It’s not about the badge, Draco,” Blaise states. “It’s about how it’s used.”

                Draco gives him a look, “So?”

                They all exchange exasperated looks.

                “We all knew the Dark Lord would come back,” Theo begins in a careful voice. “He was the one we would all follow. Your father and mine were set to follow him once he returned. My father is older than yours, but yours has been leading the old families for years.”

                “Whatever changed your father’s mind has put us all in danger. Whether that danger is–” Theo raises his voice slightly as he sees Draco is about to argue with him, “worse or not than joining the Dark Lord, is debatable.”

                Draco clenches his jaw. “What are you saying?”

                “Your father is leading us away from the Dark Lord. We know enough about your family’s history to know that the Malfoys are survivors, and it’s the only reason our parents are following yours. If Lucius Malfoy is switching sides, it’s because he knows something more,” Theo concludes quietly.

                Draco gives them an even look. “What does this have to do with the Prefect badge?” he asks carefully.

                “Prefects are considered leaders,” Daphne says coolly. “Role models, even within Slytherin. A prefect’s job is to ensure the House behaves and must be above reproach outside the House.”

                “I can do that,” Draco snaps.

                They all look at Pansy, who is that year’s Prefect for the girls. If her father decides to let her stay.

                “I can, too,” she retorts snippily.

                “You only got the badge because you’re Snape’s favourite,” Blaise states firmly, looking at Draco. “Otherwise, considering your lower grades and the amount of trouble you’ve caused with Potter and his friends, the badge should have rightfully gone to Theo. Your badge,” he says, looking at Pansy, “should have gone to Tracy or Daphne.”

                “I earned that badge,” Pansy snarls.

                “You wish!” Daphne replies icily.

                Daphne and Tracy Davies have been friends for many years. Davis is more intelligent than Pansy, Draco admits, and her marks are better than Pansy’s as well. He cannot deny that, rightly, Davis should have been made Prefect for the girls. Yet, as a Half-blood, she would not have been followed as a leader, not with Pansy having the ear of the Purebloods.

                Davis might have earned the badge, but she is not the leader sort. Daphne, on the other hand, would be. She, unlike Davis, is ambitious and cunning, to the point that Draco is outclassed. No one messes with Daphne if they want to survive. The Greengrass family is formidable.

“I earned my badge as well,” Draco says stonily, refusing to let them make him feel otherwise. “Potter’s caused loads of problems too. I bet my Nimbus that he’s been made Prefect. And his pet Mudblood Granger, too.”

“Whether you want to admit it or not, Draco,” Blaise reveals, “Potter is a player in this war. A powerful one. You’re acting like a little brat by continuing this feud when you should be working with him instead.”

“I tried to work with him,” Draco blurts out. “I offered him my hand. He rejected me.”

The thought still stings him to this day. Potter made a big mistake snubbing him: no one rejects Draco.

Daphne scoffs at him.

“You’re being juvenile again,” she derides him. “This is a time of change.”

Draco forces a smirk on his face.

“According to the Daily Prophet, he’s nothing but a liar,” he says slyly.

“He’s not listening,” Astoria shakes her head.

“Be someone we’ll want to follow,” Daphne tells him frostily. “Not someone riding on daddy’s coattails.”

Draco flushes. He understands there will be a power vacuum within Slytherin. Just because his father and some followers have defected doesn’t mean that there aren’t others in the House, and outside it, loyal to the Dark Lord. Then again, no one else knows yet that Lucius is the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

“There’s that look,” Blaise smirks, shaking his head.

“What look?”

“The ‘I know something you don’t know’ look,” Theo says dryly.

He flushes again.

“Someone needs to go check on Holly,” Theo continues, looking at Daphne.

“I told you,” Draco sighs. “She’s not going to let anyone in, at least, not whilst she’s upset.”

“What if she’s hurt?”

“Why would she be hurt?” Draco frowns again.

“She was limping on her way out of here,” Daphne talks to him like he’s thick. “She probably hurt her foot while doing that flip.”

“She was fine,” Draco says confidently. “She would have said something if she was hurt.”

Blaise snorts as they all look at each other with a disbelieving expression.

“Well, she would…” Draco defends himself, but even he knows it’s all in vain.

“I’ve known her for five minutes, and I know she wouldn’t have told you a damn thing,” Daphne ridicules.

“Let’s go and check on her,” Blaise proposes, standing up and brushing the wrinkles from his clothes.

“All of us?” Pansy says.

“You can stay if you want,” Theo shrugs.

Despite what others believe, Holly isn’t hurt. Draco knows her well enough and knows that she would have told him if she was.

Pansy follows along, dragging her heels a little. Like his companion, she is still upset that she was told she’s not earned the Prefect badge. Draco reluctantly joins them.

Minutes later, he and his friends are outside Holly’s room.

“She’s mad at you,” Astoria informs him, stating the obvious, stopping Draco as he’s about to knock on the door. “I’ll do it.”

Astoria knocks importantly and calls out, “Holly? It’s me. Tori.”

There’s a silence that goes on long enough that Draco is about to smirk at Tori, feeling oddly elated that Holly is ignoring her as well.

“Come in,” her voice comes from the other side of the door, definitely hurting Draco’s ego.

A glower replaces the smirk.

Cautiously, they walk in as Astoria takes the lead. Holly is sitting under her covers, as comfortable and snug as if it’s bedtime, reading the same muggle book Draco had seen before he insisted she join them.

She gives them a wary look as they enter one by one, curiously taking in the room.

“We’ve come to check if you’re alright,” Astoria states. She has always been the gentlest of the Greengrasses.

“I’m fine,” Holly replies, looking at them guardedly.

“What about your foot?” Daphne asks in the warmest voice she has used thus far.

“It’s fine,” she answers dismissively, returning to her book.

An awkward silence falls, and Draco rushes to fill it. “I’m sorry. About before.”

He knows he has surprised his friends with his admission. He is usually too stubborn to apologise, but Holly has become important to him. If necessary, he is willing to put his arrogance aside to keep their already delicate relationship intact.

However, his words do not appease Holly.

“What are you apologising to me for?” she says scathingly, looking over her book at him.

                The others watch with silent interest.

                He holds back a scowl, sensing the turn of such a conversation. He will not apologise to Potter, but Holly doesn’t need to know that; the thought pops into his head.

                “I’ll apologise to Potter then,” Draco strives to shrug casually, but he can’t escape the little girl’s intense scrutiny.

                He is forcibly reminded of Severus once more when his godfather tries to determine if Draco is pulling a fast one on him.

                Her lips quirk into a smile that fools him for a second into thinking she believes him, but then she scoffs, “Liar.”

                He avoids looking at the others as he valiantly holds back a blush at being called out by a nine-year-old.

                He walks to the bed, wishing he knew what to say.

                “Are you going to stay mad at me forever?” he asks, seating himself next to her on the bed.

                “Only until you grow up,” she tells him with a brutal look.

                “You’ll be waiting for a hundred years for that,” Blaise jokes, throwing himself onto the foot of the bed.

                Everyone else joins around the bed as well. Holly has no chairs in her room, and Draco doesn’t think to summon a House-Elf to bring some. Besides, he likes the closeness of them crowding Holly’s bed -  which is big enough to accommodate all of them, even though Holly pulls her legs together, sitting cross-legged under the covers.

                Pansy sits next to Draco, practically draping herself across his lap.

                “Are you all in the same House?” Holly asks, closing her book once more. It appears to be a well-worn copy. Draco doesn’t really care about reading, regarding it only as something he has to do to pass his coursework. He plans on taking over his father’s estate one day. Malfoy’s are good at making money, though they have enough in their vault that even his great-grandchildren will never have to work. Still, he’s got to do something after he leaves Hogwarts.

                “Yes,” Pansy answers, looking at Holly around Draco’s chest. She plays with the hair on Draco’s nape and continues, “We were all Sorted there from the first day. You’ll probably be Sorted into Slytherin when your turn comes.”

                Holly shrugs, “Maybe.”

                “Why wouldn’t you be?” Pansy retorts with a frown. “Especially since Professor Snape is your father.”

                Draco is quick to shift the subject.

                “You’ll be at Hogwarts before you know it,” he assures her. “By the time you join your First year, the rest of us will be in our Seventh.”

                “Except for me,” Astoria pipes up. “I’ll be in my Fifth year, so I’ll still be around after this lot leave.”

                “We’ll still be there for your first year, though,” Draco insists. “We’ll show you the Common Room, the classrooms, and the Quidditch pitch. Even our favourite place on the grounds for when the weather’s nice enough to sit outside.”

                “The secret passages,” Blaise inserts enthusiastically.

                “The Merpeople in the Great Lake,”  Astoria adds.

                “Merpeople?” Holly perks up. “You’ve seen Mermaids, too? Like the Little Mermaid?”

                “What’s that?” Theo questions, voicing the query of the rest of the group.

                “It’s a film about a mermaid who wants to know what it’s like to be human, so she signs an agreement with a sea witch to turn her human and, in the end, she falls in love with a prince,” Holly explains eagerly.

                “A film?” Pansy queries the unfamiliar word.

                “It’s like moving pictures put together in a sequence with sound telling a story,” Theo clarifies for the benefit of the others and arousing awe at his in-depth knowledge.

                “Really? Muggles can do that?” Pansy questions sceptically.

                “Muggles have filled books with stuff you don’t understand,” Theo replies derisively.

                “Shut up!” Pansy cries at him, stymied by the humiliation he wants to subject her to.

                Daphne sighs. “Both of you, shut up.”

                Draco discreetly nudges Pansy before she can say more.

                “Merpeople in the Great Lake tend to stay within their own community,” Daphne explains. “Sometimes they come when they’re collecting something close to our windows. They never acknowledge they can see us.”

                 Blaise walks over to Holly’s nightstand, peering at the spine of the book resting there in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the title. “What are you reading?”

                “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” Holly holds up the book.

                “What is it about?” Theo also gives the book an interested look.

                “It’s about this boy, Charlie, who lives with his poor parents and grandparents,” Holly explains. “One day, he finds a golden ticket in a Willy Wonka Chocolate bar, one of five, and visits Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.” 

                Perhaps it is Holly’s simple delivery, but the plot doesn’t appeal to Draco at all. Plus, it’s a muggle book. He conveniently forgets the Muggle comics he bought - and read in one weekend. Batman and Joker’s story turned out to be less funny than he expected.

                Blaise and Theo still give the book a curious look.

                “May I see it?”

                Holly hesitantly hands it to Theo.

                While Theo opens it to the first page, Blaise peering curiously over his shoulder, Draco distracts Holly from her anxious hovering.

                “You’ve read that one load of times, haven’t you?” He has seen her with that book often.

                “It’s my favourite,” Holly tells him. “Ha – I got it as a gift. The whole box set of them.”

                 Blaise looks up from Theo’s shoulder. “Oh? There’s more?”

                Holly nods.

                “Can I see?”      

                Draco thinks Blaise is overdoing it with enthusiasm. The other boy can usually be hyperactive but never on muggle objects. Like all the Purebloods in this room, Blaise has never been exposed to the muggle world. Daphne might know a bit more because her best friend Davis is a half-blood, but Theo’s knowledge comes from books rather than practical experience.

                Holly hops out of bed to look through her wardrobe. Opening it, Draco sees she has used one of her shelves for books instead of clothes. He makes a mental note to tell his parents to add a bookshelf to her room.

                Draco notices she is still wearing her socks but is limping slightly and frowns at her back.

                “Are you sure your foot’s all right?”

                “It’s fine,” she dismisses his worries, turning around and carrying a box set of books, so Draco decides to not insist further on the matter.

                They’re all relatively thin books. There’s one missing, Draco sees as she puts them down on the bed before climbing back into it. The missing one must be the one that Theo is reading in earnest - he can get like that when he has a book in his hand and forget everything around him.

                They all clamber closer to take a look at the other titles.

                The BFG. The Witches. James and the Giant Peach. The Twits. George’s Marvellous Medicine. Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator. Matilda. To name a few.

                At Blaise’s prompting, Holly explains the plot for some of them, while Draco seems only able to cast a confused look at Daphne.

                “A muggle wrote these?” he asks incredulously.

                Holly nods innocently.

                “Bet that peach is giant because of the Engorgement Charm,” Pansy rationalises.

                “The Big Friendly Giant? Giants aren’t ever friendly.”

                “What year were they published?” Theo asks but flicks through his own book to find the answer.

                “Matilda must be about accidental magic,” Astoria adds excitedly.

                 Daphne shakes her head. “The marvellous medicine must be potions.”

                “These seem to be published between the sixties and eighties,” Blaise informs them, having flicked through each of them.

                “Think it might be a squib?” Pansy asks, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

                 “Or a washed-up mudblood,” Draco speaks without thinking, flipping through the one blatantly titled The Witches.

                Theo clears his throat to break the sudden silence, the meaning of which Draco does not immediately understand.

                “Holly, is your foot swollen?” He looks down at Holly’s leg, which is dangling off the bed.

                Draco, concerned, tries to manoeuvre himself around the back of Holly to see her foot on the other side of the bed.

                “Let me see your foot.”

                He looks at her to make her see he is serious but is surprised to see her glaring at him with a fire he has never seen directed at him.

                “What does mudblood mean?” she demands in a voice that tells Draco she already knows the bitter answer.

He understands the sudden silence and pales as he realises what he has just said.

                “Holly – it’s just a word,” he scrambles to explain.

                “What does it mean?”

                A glance at the others shows that none of them will come to his rescue. Even Pansy has physically distanced herself from him with a grimace. He is alone in this.

                “It means someone who – who – er – someone who has dirty blood,” Draco stutters his way through the explanation. “Because they’re not Pureblood.”

                “Pureblood like all of you,” she accuses in a hard voice, looking at each of them.

                “It’s just a word we use,” Pansy steps in to clarify, repeating what Draco has already said.

                He is focused on Holly, so he doesn’t see Daphne give Astoria a nod. Or see the younger girl slip out of the room.

“My mamma was a mudblood then,” Holly says in a flat voice.

                Draco reaches out a hand to her shoulder, trying to placate her, but she reacts violently, throwing herself out of reach, off the bed. She yelps as she suddenly puts her weight on her foot and stumbles to the floor, wincing in pain.

                Draco, and Theo, who is closest to her, jostle to get to her side.

                “Holly! Please, let me see your foot,” Draco begs, reaching for her again.

                “No. Don’t touch me. Leave!” she shrieks as she scrambles away from both. “Get out! I want you out of my room. All – all of you!”  

Theo backs off, raising his arms in a surrendering manner. He grabs Draco when the blond doesn’t immediately move to back away as well.

                “Come on,” he urges in a low voice, pulling him back.

                Draco doesn’t like the disappointment in Holly’s eyes - he doesn’t like seeing it directed at him.

                “Holly, I swear, I didn’t mean it,” he tries to explain desperately.

                “Get out,” she says tiredly once more, crawling back from them all.

                Blaise and Theo practically drag him away.

                “You just can’t help yourself,” Daphne exclaims frigidly once the door closes behind them.

                “Our role model,” Blaise scorns, earlier friendliness gone.

                “We may not have known that Holly’s mother was muggle-born, but you did,” Daphne continues coldly. “You should have been more careful with your words.”

                “Back off, Greengrass. Draco didn’t say anything wrong,” Pansy snipes. “What else would you call a mudblood?”

                “What else, indeed?”

                Draco swallows hard at the sound of Severus’s bland voice. He only uses that tone when he is trying very hard to suppress anger.

                Pansy pales as she looks up to see their Head of House. Though his face is expressionless, his eyes are glittering with suppressed rage. Looking past Severus, Draco sees his mother giving him a disappointed look. Draco turns his gaze away.

                “I hope you enjoyed your visit, children,” Narcissa speaks politely. “Your parents are waiting for you downstairs.”

                They all mutter a flat goodbye, apart from Pansy, who gives Draco a look of sympathy. No one gives him a second look as they leave, but Holly’s closed doors get multiple glances as they trudge away.

                Draco is left alone with his mother’s displeasure and godfather’s ire. In the face of this, it doesn’t even occur to him to think of Holly’s cuteness.

 

               


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