As was his usual wont, Ted stared sightlessly at the morning cuppa Andy had set before him. He was not a morning person.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Ted,” Andromeda chided. “Drink your tea and join the living.”

“Hmm?” Ted grunted and then snuffled. “Oh yes. Present, Dear. Are we waiting breakfast for Nym then?”

While she busied herself with a fresh pot of tea, Ted sipped his already cold cup. He blearily eyed the owl winging its way toward the open kitchen window.

"Mail's here," he announced.

"Oh good," Andromeda said, joining him at the table with the fresh pot. She vanished his cold tea and spelled the pot to pour him a fresh cup as the owl flew in and dropped a stack of post on the table. Andromeda was ready with a knut and a treat, and the owl hooted its thanks before turning and flapping up and away.

Ted pulled the morning edition of the Prophet from the stack, and left Andromeda to deal with the rest. He sat back after a sip of hot tea, and snapped the paper open, his eyes accosted by the blaring headlines.

“Oh Andy, Dear..." he began.,just as his wife turned and said:

"Here's something for you, Dear..."

He nodded at her to go first, not sure how she'd take his news.

"It's from Hogwarts,” she said, handing him the scrolled piece of parchment addressed to him. He folded the paper up and took the scroll from her.

He opened it and quickly scanned the contents with some surprise, his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly open..

"What? What is it?” Andromeda questioned with a frown.

Ted gave a small laugh and said, "Well. Didn't expect that."

"What is it?" his wife asked, exasperation making her voice raspy. She knew her husband of thirty years did like to spin out his tales.

"It's from none other than Albus Dumbledore. He's offering me the position of Muggle Studies Professor for the new school year!"

"He what?" Andromeda yelped in surprise, snatching the parchment from his hands and reading through it herself.

She lifted her eyes to his, widened in surprise, and they stared at one another a moment before both burst into laughter.

"Me? A professor?” Ted chuckled. "Why would he think of me?"

"Well, why not?, " Andromeda asked. "You do have teaching experience, Dear. You teach Muggles. You have a better idea about teaching Muggle ways, a hands-on idea, than most, after all."

Ted considered her words, although he wasn't exactly sure if a Muggle upbringing and a stint giving woodworking lessons to Muggles qualified him as a professor of anything.

"I think you should consider it, Dear," his wife said. " It will give you something more to do than waiting round for carpentry commissions.”

Ted scowled and shook his head. Andromeda sat across from him, and wove her fingers through his.

"And," she pointed out, " You could still make pieces while teaching, you wouldn't have to give it up entirely. Maybe you could incorporate it into a lesson. You know, have them carve something with their own two hands, no magic, as a term project."

Ted looked at his wife. He made good money from his commissions, and she, as a wizarding portraitist did well too, they weren't hurting for money, but did she want him to be steadily employed? Have a full time job? He knew that although she'd always defended him and his choices, her family had always scoffed. Them throwing her out of the family had been the best thing that could have happened to Ted, no matter how selfish it made him seem. She had married him despite everyone’s objections, and had never complained, but...did she want him to have a respectable wizarding job?

Was that what she was saying?

She looked up from perusing the mail, his silence causing her to frown a bit, but then her expression softened and she said, "Only if you want to, Dear. I'm happy as we are, and will be happy no matter what you choose to do. It's your decision, my love."

Ted smiled and lifted her hand. He gave her knuckles a light brush of his lips. "Maybe Dumbledore should hire the woman with all the ideas instead."

With a final squeeze of fingers, Ted said, "I'll think about it, Andy.

He turned his attention back to the paper, opening it to the front page. He skimmed the headlines and accompanying article, cleared his throat and said, "Andy."

She stopped absently stirring her tea, the clinking of the spoon against the china suddenly silenced. She asked, “Something interesting today?”

"Erm, you might want to see this.” He held up the paper for her to see. “Seems your sister and brother-in-law have been arrested."

“What? No!” she blurted out, snatching the paper from him. He watched her eyes grow impossibly wider as she quickly read the article. Once done, she crunched the offending paper between her fists, her mouth forming a little ‘O.’

“It was bound to happen sooner or later, Dear,” He said gently, reaching for her hand again, “Malfoy always was a bit dodgy, you know that. Seems his money couldn't save him this time."

"B- but my sister," Andromeda said faintly. "What about their son? H-he's just a boy."

"I don't know, Dear.” Ted answered. He needed to distract his wife from the turmoil discussion of her family always caused. He blurted out, “Perhaps Dora will know something. Where is that girl anyway? Bit late, isn't she?"

This proved to be the distraction he hoped, as Andy stood and said, "Yes, yes, she is. I…hope this doesn't have any repercussions for her career, Ted. I mean...they can't hold this against her, can they? She can't help who her family is. After all, they didn’t hold Bella against her."

"If there were to be anything said, I'm sure Alastor would defend her, Andy.” Ted reminded her “And that bloke Kingsley she works with. She said he’s an up and comer and they are pretty good friends according to her. He would definitely put in a word for her.

"Of course they would.” His wife shook her head and said, “I don’t know why I’m borrowing problems. I'll start breakfast. Nym can eat when she gets here."

Ted picked up the crushed paper, smoothing it out and continued reading where he left off, while she puttered about the kitchen. After a few moments of companionable silence, Ted heard the clatter of Dora’s entrance as Andromeda’s crup, Big Tony, joyfully announced her entrance with ear piercing yips.

"Oi! Big Tony, you bloody mongrel! Lying in the doorway!" they heard her exclaim. She came into the kitchen, talking as she did "Oh good, breakfast. I'm bloody starving, I am. Bit of excitement last night and all!"

She took her seat at the table, bringing her knee into the chair and sitting on her foot, a habit Andy hated, but that she had never been able to break. Ted smiled to himself and said, "Sounds like. Were you involved?"

"Well, I was in the Department doing some paperwork when they brought him in, but not directly involved. He put up quite the fuss at not finding the accommodations as posh as he'd like. What a brat. Nothing like that poor Potter sprog. He was nice, polite, and seemed rather happy to be there."

She shook her head and added, "Bit embarrassed to admit I'm related to him, I am."

Ted looked at Andromeda, who looked back in confusion, and said to their daughter "Lucius kicked up a fuss. No surprise there, but what about your aunt? I can't picture my prim and proper sister…"

"Well, I didn't see them, did I? The Ministry took them directly to holding cells, as slippery as he is." she said, "I'm talking about my pointy little ponce of a cousin."

Ted felt more than a little sick at what Dora was saying. “They arrested a child? That doesn’t seem right, even for Fudge.”

He looked at Dora doubtfully, and she rolled her eyes. "Even old Fudgey isn't that bad, Dad. No, they brought the brat in under the Family and Children Department, to their facility ‘til they can decide who they are going to impose him on."

Andromeda plonked a plate of toast in front of her daughter, her lips thinned in irritation. She spelled Nym’s cup full and turned back to the hob.

Nym took an unladylike gulp of the tea and added, "It ain't Malfoy Manor, he let them know about it, nasty little bugger."

"Nym," Andy said chidingly, "he's just a child."

“It must have been all very frightening to him.” Ted added. “He’s only— what, twelve, maybe thirteen?”

"About that, I think," Andy said thoughtfully.

"Well, he's year mates with the Potter boy, from what Charity Burbage said.” Nym reached for a slice of toast and pulled off part of the crust. ” When she told him he'd be sharing a dorm with Potter for the time being, he said he wasn't sharing a room with a filthy Mudblood loving Gryffindor, the prat. Potter didn’t say a word, just sat down. He glared at dear little cousin Draco enough to let him know what he thought of his insults, but that was all.” Nym had smashed the crust into a tight ball and she popped it in her mouth with deftly practised fingers.

“Needless to say, two of Burbage’s crew disabused him of that notion right quick alright.” Nym continued as she took another piece of crust off the bread. “He didn't go happy, sneering at everyone, cursing. Potter, he was just calm as anything, like I said, seemed happy to be there.”

"But why was the Boy Who Lived there?" Ted asked. "I thought he lived with relatives of his mum, or something like that.”

Dora shrugged as she popped the crust in her mouth and began spooning out some scramble that Andy had put on the table. She shovelled some into her mouth and said, "Dunno, Dad, he was already there when I went on shift."

“Nymphadora!" Andy admonished, "I like to think we raised you better than to talk with your mouth full! Honestly, you are picking up some terrible habits from all those Auror friends of yours!"

Ted and Dora looked at one another in amusement. Dora swallowed her mouthful, swiped her hand across her lips and grinned, “Sorry, Mum."

"So both Draco and the Potter boy will be held there at the Ministry til...?" Ted asked his daughter, who had gobbled down her breakfast and was feeding some of her toast to the crup. "

“Yeah, Dad," she said, ”Charity explained it all. They hold them there til they find suitable relatives, or if no relatives, suitable homes from a list of applicants who are willing to take on brat to look after. There's a whole process, you know, they review applications, do interviews, home visit, make a decision based on all that. Merlin help the poor bastards who take on Malfoy's little darling."

She brushed her hands off on her trousers, stood up, giving a huge yawn and said, "Right, off to bed. I'm knackered."

She left the kitchen, Big Tony trotting after her sniffing the air interestedly.

The silence left behind from their daughter’s leaving was punctuated by cutlery across stoneware. Ted sipped more of his tea, thinking about how sad it was that Andy didn’t have any kind of relationship with her family. They’d always wanted more children, and her having the nephew around might have eased the pain of all those failed pregnancies. He had so wanted to ease her pain from the life she had been denied all those years, and here was a possible way to help a child and his wife. He ran a blunt finger around the rim of his cup.

Not that it would be easy to bring a child whose parents were like that into their house, but he just couldn’t see letting some other family take him in. Malfoy Sr was a nasty piece of work and no doubt had enemies galore. And then there was also the possibility of the child being further influenced by the darkness his parents had surrounded him with. Ted was sure, just like the boy’s father, that not all Death Eaters had been caught. He would hate to see one of them get the boy.

He took another sip of his tea and opened his mouth to voice his concerns when Andy said, “I know what you’re thinking, and no, Ted. I will not subject any of us to that.”

“But Andy, the boy is alone. He’s probably confused and hurting.” Ted said. “I’m sure it would be difficult for all of us, but he’s family to you.”

“And to him that would mean nothing,” Andy replied as she stood, snatched up her plate and vanished what was left of her meal into the compost pile outside. She then turned to the sink to set the dishes to wash. “No I won’t do it, Ted. I can’t.”

Ted said nothing as she whisked herself out of the room. He knew they’d revisit the topic. Andy was a compassionate woman. He would be able to talk her around if he approached her the right way. He’d done it when she had baulked at Dora becoming an Auror, he’d do it again.

***

Draco sat on his bed, the surprisingly comfortable bed, which he'd already made, and looked over disgustedly at the lump that was Potter. All he could see of him was a tangle of unruly black hair, burrowed as he was into the blankets. It annoyed Draco. He was accustomed to rising early, Mother insisted, no layabouts in the Manor, and if he were up, so should Potter be. He stood, went over to his bed, raised his foot and soundly kicked the bed frame.

"Oi, you uncivilised lout! Get up, Potter!" he shouted.

"Mmm..fug off, Malfoy" came the mumbled reply.

Harder this time, Draco again aimed a kick to the other boy's bed frame and sneered, "Of course you'd resort to foul language, Potter. To be expected of your ilk."

That got a reaction. Potter threw his bedclothes off and scrabbled on the nightstand for his glasses.

"My ilk", he said around a yawn, " that's rich coming from you. I'm sure Mummy Dearest didn't teach you any of the curse words you pitched at Professor Burbage and that Auror girl last night."

"You will not speak of my mother in any form, Potter!", Draco spat, outraged. "At least I have a mother!"

The other boy was on his feet and in Draco's face faster than the Slytherin could react, and he braced himself for a blow.

Instead of the expected punch, Potter, looking smug, said, " Sure about that, Malfoy? Then why are you here?"

Draco swallowed hard, and tried to keep himself from dissolving into the tears that had been threatening since last night.

He raised his hands and pushed Potter back a few steps saying grimly. "It's all a misunderstanding, is all. I'll be out of here and back with my family soon enough, Potter. Where will you go? Why are you here?”

Draco knew he'd hit a nerve there. Potter's face looked stricken for a moment, before he hitched up a half smile and said lamely, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Not really," Draco said drily, and hastily changed the subject. "Are they going to feed us? The Weasel’s father said meals were provided." "

“Don't call Ron that," Potter said belligerently.

"Calm down, Potty," Draco sneered. "No offence to your beau."

"Beau." Potter sneered back. "Big words from you, considering you don't have your two thug boyfriends around to defend you. Wanna see how fast I can make you cry?"

"Go on then!" Draco snapped back, "We'll see who's crying first!"

They stood glaring at one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Draco was in his duelling stance, and he noticed Potter’s fists were clenched at his sides.

With more relief than he wanted to admit feeling, they heard Professor Burbage call out from the common area.

"Morning, boys! Time to rise and shine!" She called in a sickeningly cheery voice. They both rolled their eyes in a brief moment of solidarity, and backed away from each other. Draco smoothed the counterpane on his bed again, to make sure it was perfect.

Potter pulled his trunk out and rooted around in it, grabbing his toiletries and heading off to the adjoining bathroom. When Burbage didn't enter, Draco sat on his bed, unsure of what to do. He could hear Potter splashing about, and Burbage, apparently across the hall now, calling out to someone else in that same cheery voice.

He didn't really want to fight with Potter, truth was, the Gryffindor was the only familiar thing here, sad as that was. Draco was counting on him to be a guide of sorts, of what to do. He'd never before found himself on his own like this with neither family or friends whose social cues he could follow. It was all so dreadfully unsettling and surreal, and Draco simply did not know what to do.

Potter emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a hideous oversized jumper, and jeans so worn they were practically threadbare, and began to make his bed. Draco watched him warily, and resisted the urge to disparage Potter's wardrobe. It wouldn't do to rile him further; not only was Draco afraid Potter might actually strike him, he needed to at least be civil so that Potter would be, not a friend, never a friend, but an ally for the time Draco had to spend here until Mother and Father came to take him back to their world.

Potter finished with his bed and glanced at Draco. He was still sitting on his own bed, waiting for a cue as to where to go from here. Potter's look of amusement made Draco grit his teeth, but he said nothing. After a moment, Potter shook his head and said, "Come on, we'll get some breakfast."

Draco stood and waited for Potter to lead the way. Potter opened the door and said over his shoulder, "You know, if you'd have shut your gob for a minute last night when they were explaining things to you, instead of screaming the place down like a banshee, you'd know what to do."

It was too much for Draco and so he retorted, “Oh, did I disturb your beauty sleep, Potter? It wouldn't have helped anyway.”

Potter stepped through the doorway without a rebuttal. Draco goaded, “You know you could take more pride in your appearance, Potter. Do you ever comb that rat's nest on your head?"

"Oh, stop! You'll turn my head with all those compliments," the other boy snarked back."C"mon, Prince Charming, I'm starving."

Draco followed Potter to what appeared to be a dining hall, with tables and chairs set around the room. He paused for a moment, looking around, seeing nothing to indicate any food was forthcoming. He followed Potter to one of the tables, and said, "Is there...a waiter... or something?"

Potter gave him a look of disdain and said, "Sit, you knob. It's like Hogwarts. Sit down and breakfast appears. The elves send it up from the kitchens. How do you think Ministry workers have their lunch everyday?"

"Right," Draco muttered, taking a seat. Like Hogwarts indeed; a small spread of breakfast food appeared as soon as he'd sat, along with plates, cups, and cutlery.

Potter immediately helped himself, loading his plate and tucking in as if he hadn't eaten in a year.

"Cretin, ' Draco said under his breath as he selected eggs, sausage, and toast for himself.

"Starving cretin," Potter snickered between bites of bacon.

Draco just sighed in disgust and began eating his own breakfast.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before curiosity got the better of Draco, and he asked quietly, "Why are you here, Potter? I thought Dumbledore placed you with relatives when you were an infant?"

Potter paused in his gobbling and eyed Draco with a frown."Why would I tell you anything, Malfoy? Why would I give you ammunition to make next school year as pleasant as you've made the first two?"

Fair enough, Draco thought, but he needed to make sure Potter didn't talk about this either. Especially the mortifying way he'd conducted himself last night, screaming, as Potter had so kindly pointed out, like a banshee. Father had taught him that you had to give, but only just enough to be able to take what you wanted, and in this case, it was Potter's silence. If he could niggle the truth out of Potter, he could hold it over his head to keep his silence. In order to do that, he was prepared to give a little.

"Why would I tell anyone anything, you moron?" Draco asked. "Did you think I came here for summer hols?"

The other boy smirked, that amused expression again, which made Draco want to kick Potter under the table, but he resisted. Potter countered unexpectedly, "You first."

It was a real battle for Draco to keep from lunging at the other boy in frustration. Nothing was as it should be. Draco should have the upper hand here! Not only was he a Malfoy, but a Slytherin as well! Nobody out slithered a Slytherin! Certainly not some ragamuffin Gryffindor!

Fine, he decided, he'd have to give sooner than he planned is all, but he kept his eye on the prize of Potter's silence. He'd show a little, just a smidge, of humility, and wrongfoot Potter. "They...they arrested my parents. Weasley’s father conducted a raid, and found...some things, and so they arrested them, but....it's a misunderstanding..."

"You mean like a dark diary?" Potter said grimly. "That your father might put in a little girl’s school supplies?"

"I, well, yes, I mean something like that I suppose, but that was just a book..." Draco said, slightly confused. Even if his father had needed to get rid of something quickly, he was sure he would never do something to harm a pureblood child, even one of a blood traitor. Mother would never countenance that.

Potter slitted his eyes, looking hard at Draco, but then something in his expression shifted, and he sighed heavily. "It wasn't ..it..doesn't matter. It's destroyed now. I don't think your father even knew what it really...contained. Dumbledore took care of it."

Draco had no idea what Potter was on about, so he said, "See? A misunderstanding."

Potter was looking at him with an expression that bordered on pity, and Draco didn't like that, but Potter's next words kept him silent. "My relatives...they are Muggles, and they hate magic. It... it was too much for them to deal with...so, I'm to be put with people who appreciate magic. You know, a wizarding family. It happens."

‘Is that all? Draco thought with disappointment. Being away from that could only be better for Potter then, couldn't it?

"Well....that ...you'll be better off then, won't you?," Draco observed " with our kind?"

"Yeah", Potter replied, "I guess so."

Draco watched him play with his fork a moment, and said in exasperation, "I'd be thrilled if I were you, Potter. Muggles can't understand what it's like to be wizards. Even if they acknowledge and appreciate it...like it seems Granger"s parents do...they can't ever know what it's like to have magic, to be like us. I don't know how they even survive at all. It's not true Muggles are just like us. They can never be just like us. Magic makes us better. That's the whole problem with Muggles. You should be dancing with joy to be away from them, even if they are your relatives."

"Is that what your father taught you?" Potter asked, a scowl on his face. ”Is that why you strut around like you own the place? Because you're better than everybody else?"

"Yes," Draco said earnestly. "We are. You too. Half blood is still better than Muggle. Even being a mudb....Muggleborn is better."

Potter stood up abruptly, causing his chair to screech loudly on the terrazzo floor. His tone was disparaging and harsh as he said,"Spare me the magic is might crap, yeah, Malfoy? Magic makes us different, not better. After all, your pureblood arse is still here too. Seems to me magic didn’t help you there."

Draco also stood, pushing in his chair and sneered, "What, Potter? You telling me you'd rather not have magic?"

"No, Malfoy," the other boy said with a mirthless smile. "I'm saying magic can't do everything. It can't bring back my parents. Let's see if it brings back yours."

Potter’s unflinching glare and jutting chin made Draco want to kick the other boy as hard as he could. Obviously Potter's relatives had coloured his view.

Looking at Potter standing there with his atrocious hair and his horrible clothes dispelled some of Draco's ire. The Muggle relatives apparently were not only unable to deal with Potter's magic, they didn't seem to care for him properly either. Taking a deep breath, Draco offered and was surprised that he actually meant it, "I'm sorry about your parents, Potter.”

Perhaps if Potter had been raised by magical parents, things could have been different. They might have been friends.

With a wry sort of smile, Potter said, "One of the few things in my life not your fault, Malfoy, but....thanks."

After a brief internal struggle not to retort and start another argument, Draco nodded and asked, "Now what?"

Potter shrugged and said, "Yeah...I don't think, other than meals, there's much of a routine here. They said there's books and things in the common area. Too bad there isn't a telly. Be nice to be able to watch for a change, without my cousin hogging it all day. Not that I was ever actually allowed to, mind."

Draco frowned. "A what? What's a ‘telly?’"

Potter laughed and said, "Muggle magic, Malfoy. C'mon, let's go see if there's a chess set or something."

Professor Burbage turned up again as Draco and Potter were battling it out on the chess board.

"Go on, you coward! Take him!" Potter urged his piece. Draco was still trying to imagine the point of a box that was just one continuous moving picture, as Potter had described what a "telly" was. You couldn't even interact with it! What kind of magic was that?

"Well," Professor Burbage said, a pleased smile breaking across her face, "it's good to see you two getting along for a change. Found a common ground, have you? It's nicer with friends, isn't it?”

Draco glanced at the other boy, and he almost laughed at the other boy’s comical nonplussed expression. Potter said with amusement. "Sure, Professor,"

Draco stood up, cleared his throat and said, "I would like to apologise, Professor, for my appalling conduct last night. There is no excuse for my behaviour, or for the things I said. I hope you'll forgive me."

"Oh, no, my dear boy, there's nothing to forgive. It was a strange and stressful situation, of course you would be upset. No, no, don't worry, Draco. I'm just glad to see you're feeling better this morning," she told him reassuringly.

"Thank you, Professor", Draco said, and took his seat again avoiding Potter’s gaze.

"Well," she said, " I just came to see how you're both getting on. If you have any questions, or need anything, all you need do is ask." Draco desperately wanted to ask after his parents, but he wasn't about to do so in front of Potter, so remained silent, as did the other boy.

"No?" Professor Burbage smiled, "alright then, I'll leave you to your game."

"Thank you, Professor" they both intoned, and watched her go.

"Arse kisser," Potter laughed at him.

"At least I have manners, Potter," Draco snapped.

"Of course you do," the other boy laughed, "you're a proper little pureblood prince."

Draco wasn't going to let it rile him though, and replied, "You know, Potter, I think you'll find that conducting oneself with propriety, manners, and grace, instead of like an uncouth, mannerless street urchin, will get you farther in life."

"So will removing the stick from your arse," Potter laughed.

"Well, there is some hope for you, Potter, with any luck you'll be placed with a proper family who will have the patience to undo all your feral habits," Draco said with a pleasant smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Starting with teaching you how to comb your hair and dress properly."

Potter looked momentarily stricken, but then rallied and snarked "Ooh, you mean a rich pureblood family that will turn me into a prancing little ponce like you?"

"You could do worse than turn out like me, Potter," Draco felt as if a jolt of fire had just run through him.

"I doubt it, Malfoy," Potter snapped back, and they were glaring at each other again.

Further argument was averted when the Weasel's father strode in, a big smile splitting his face at seeing Potter.

"Mr Weasley," the other boy said, standing.

"Harry, Good morning, my boy. Draco. I see you've settled in."

Weasley’s tone wasn’t as warm as he greeted Draco.

"Mr Weasley," Draco murmured.

"Harry, I wonder if I might have a word with you," Weasley said, nodding at Draco. He led Potter off to the side of the room, but Draco found he could still hear them.

"Two things I wanted to let you know, Harry," the senior Weasel said. "First, I wanted to let you know that Molly and I will be applying straightaway for custody of you."

"That's wonderful, Mr Weasley," Potty replied, and Draco noted how pleased and relieved Potter sounded.

"Good," Weasel senior said. "Now, it's a bit of a process, you understand, there's an interview and a home visit and such..."

"But, you work for the Ministry," Potter pointed out, "I mean, they can hardly say no."

"Yes, but while I may be able to nudge the process along, it is a process nonetheless, and there are legalities to consider, rules to follow, but both Charity Burbage and Amelia Bones know that you usually spend holidays with us already, so that will help."

"Right," Potter said happily. "I understand."

“And more good news, I received a big bonus. When the process is complete, we will all be going to Egypt.” Weasley said, with a pride-filled smile. “You’ll get to meet Bill and Charlie then.”

“That sounds wonderful, Mr Weasely,” Harry said. “ I’m looking forward to it. It will be worth the wait.”

“That’s my boy.” Weasley said affectionately, "Now, I must run, there's much to do, and Molly is already in a kerfuffle. We'll be together before you know it."

"Thank you, Mr Weasley, " Potter said gratefully "Give Mrs Weasley my love."

"How convenient, Potter," Draco said when the old Weasel had gone, "You get to be with your little girlfriend."

"You sound jealous, Malfoy," Potter said, that annoying look of amusement back. Honestly, Draco wished he could wipe that smirk off Potter's mug permanently.

"You wish," Draco snapped back, and Potter just laughed.

***

Severus ushered Charity and Madam Bones into his newly renovated suite. The elves had spent most of the night and much of the morning making ready for Potter’s possible arrival. It was just too much. The lounge had been redone in mostly neutral tones, but with Albus’ taste in mind. Gone were the sleek, dark, ascetic chairs sitting just so in front of the fire. They had been replaced with light, fluffy chairs with pillows and tassels. Severus was not a pillow and tassel type. The perfectly functional, if ancient, stained, and slightly burnt rug, had been changed to a not quite garish ochre Persian one.

His library, which had comprised most of his suite of rooms, had been shifted to another chamber, now off to the east of a newly magicked hallway, where the books rested on perfectly functional, but almost Rococo shelves of elf design. They had even put his darker books under wards. How was a man in the midst of an intellectual frenzy supposed to easily access whatever arcane tome had been brought to mind with wards he had to dismantle to bring said tome to him?

He shuddered to think of what horror had been wrought in Potter’s room. The little ingrate had every wizarding amenity he needed to live with and more. The room was garishly festooned in his house colours with Gryffindor themed wallpaper and a hideous red and gold carpet. If Potter didn’t go blind in the first week, Severus would eat a hippogriff.

Severus allowed the ladies to be seated on the not quite new, squashy rust-coloured couch. He didn’t entertain. He could count on one hand how many times any of his colleagues had entered his chambers and taken a seat for a chat, more likely a shouting match.

He assumed the least offensive of seats, a light brown leather one that seemed too slick for safety.

Charity began, “I was sur—erm intrigued to see your name thrown in the hat for custody of Harry Potter, Severus.”

Severus couldn’t contain the glower that still lingered from yesterday’s meeting, but he slid his best The-Dark-Lord-Needs-Volunteers expression of neutral negativity onto his face and answered, “I was moved by my feeling of concern for the boy’s safety should less desirable parties express an interest in him.”

He felt his fingernails dig into the arm of his chair as an elf sent a tea tray onto the surface of the not quite new tea table that would, no doubt, end up in barked shins and stubbed toes until Severus could get used to having a bloody table in the walkway.

Once the niceties of tea were settled, with Severus playing mother, Charity began again, “I see. There are, of course, criteria that need to be met. Perhaps you might show me the room you’ve prepared for Harry, whilst Madam Bones makes note of any logistical needs for housing such a high profile child.”

Severus rose, waiting for Charity to place her tea on the delicate saucer it had come with. Once they were out of the room and walking down the hallway, she rounded on Severus. “What has got into you? You hate the boy.”

“Is this an official question, Charity?’ Severus hissed.

She shoved his shoulder with her palm, “It’s a friend asking friend what Albus Dumbledore has on you, and why you have obviously caved to his pressure.”

Severus sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as he took a deep breath. After gathering his thoughts he said, “I truly do think the boy is in danger, and not just from Dark wizards Charity. The Dark Lord bragged about his immortality, and I’ve seen his presence in this very school twice now.”

“But why you, Severus?” Charity asked again. “Why not Minerva or Filius? They both were duelling champions and they don’t have your past associations.”

Severus schooled his features to stone as he bit out, “That information about my activities during the war was divulged to you in the strictest of confidence. Albus thought you needed to know because of your own affiliations.”

Charity stepped back from him, smoothing her hands over her robes as she did. “Of course it is, Severus. And I would never divulge that after what you did for us… what you explained your role was. I am just concerned that your duties carried out under Albus’ command might not be in the best interest of a boy who is in a fragile emotional state.”


Severus snorted inelegantly. “No doubt the boy is languishing in whatever hellscape the Ministry deems fit for teenage heroes. Whatever will he do without the accolades of his hungry public?”

“This! Severus, this is why I don’t think this placement is a good one. You’re supposed to be here to convince me, but you can’t contain your snarkiness about the boy for even one moment.” Charity whispered forcefully.

“Be that as it may,” Severus said through clenched teeth “I am what is best for the boy. I can protect him, and you needn’t worry about Albus interfering. I had him make a wand oath that any decisions about the boy, a possible war, or any other scenarios that might occur, are all under my control. The boy will be free of Albus’ machinations, as much as any of us allied against the Dark Lord are.”

Charity looked into Severus’ face, her eyes scanning his features. He met her gaze, for once openly. In the last twelve hours, he had become convinced that he was actually the best situation for the boy, Severus’ feelings on Potter be damned. Whatever she saw, she finally sighed, and said, “Very well, Severus, show me what horror Albus asked the elves to do for the boy.”

Charity’s whoop of laughter at the garish room aside, they returned to Madam Bones seated on the couch. She slid a notebook and a small quill into her briefcase as Severus ushered Charity to her seat.

The young professor said, “I am in mind to approve Severus for the guardianship, Amelia.”

Madam Bones’ gave a doubtful frown, “Mr Snape has answered all the questions to your satisfaction, Charity?”

“He has allayed any doubts I had about his request, Madam.” Charity’s ears coloured slightly as she spoke. Severus knew that to be a sign she was lying from the hours of poker they had played her first year as a professor.

“I will, of course, fill out any questionnaires you might have for your official documentation.” Severs supplied, his voice smooth and stress-free, no matter the roiling uncertainty he felt at the moment.

Madam Bones pulled out a sheaf of papers from a case she carried, holding them out to Severus, “I will expect these by tomorrow afternoon. You may deliver them by owl, if your duties here do not allow you to come to the Ministry. As head of this new venture, I’m sure you know that I am ultimately the last word on young Potter’s placement.”

She rose, as did Charity, “Mr Snape, thank you for your time. We have another appointment to get to. “

He escorted the two women out. Once done, Severus sank into a chair, his knees suddenly weak.

What had he agreed to do?

***

They’d fought all day over the issue of Andy’s nephew. It had been a both alternately cold and heated row. It was worse than the one they’d had over Ted’s support of Dora’s chosen profession. It was worse than the row they’d had their first year of marriage when Ted had stupidly said his mother’s cookery was much better than Andy’s. He hadn’t been sure at the time that they would survive as a couple as she flicked and swished all of his clothes out of closets and drawers, down the hall, and onto the outside entryway of their first flat in Diagon Alley.

He never once forgot that she was women’s duelling champion of their year and Bellatrix Black’s sister.

Ted had retreated to the bed, pointedly ignoring his wife who lay stiffly at his side. He was definitely not hiding from her behind the thick book of Mediaeval battle tactics and heraldry that his father had given him on one of his birthdays years and years ago. It had sat in the lounge drawing dust until this afternoon when Ted seized upon it for just this purpose.

It was an interesting book, if one liked reading about ancient battles and the flags the participants flew, and generally, Ted was not one of those so inclined. He turned a page, and Andy let out a soft sigh. He wouldn’t glance her way, that would be either a start to new hostilities, or a sign of his surrender. He hated to fight, most especially with her.

After a time and another page turn, and two more sighs, Andromeda said, “I’ve thought about what you said.


“Oh?” Ted let his eyes slip from the page and onto hers for a full moment

She turned her face away from him and sighed again. “Yes. I did listen to you, Dear and I hate to fight as much as you do. You know that.”


Ted let the book fall face up to his lap. “I know, Andy.”

“After tea, when I had some time to think, because you shut yourself in the shed with your bits of wood,” she said. “I came to realise that no matter who the boy’s parents were, he was in need of some comfort.”


Ted knew better than to prod her, so he waited with his hands folded over the small paunch that had grown over last winter. Andy turned her face to his “We can put our names in for my nephew..”

Ted couldn’t contain his smile. He knew she would come around eventually. His elation almost made him miss her last words. “As long as you take the position offered at Hogwarts.”

Well, fuck.