Severus stood on the porch, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a tumbler of rum as he stared blankly across his property, the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon. Two days. It had been two days since the horrid Occlumency session with Malfoy. He’d avoided the boys since then, having been completely thrown by Malfoy’s emotional outburst.

He knew he’d been completely out of line when he returned from the Death Eater meeting. He never should have said Potter and Malfoy were to blame. It was a terrible lie said in the midst of pain. He hadn’t expected the boys to be awake and to confront him upon his return. He was used to dealing with meeting aftermath on his own. Piling it on top of everything else just had him far too stressed out and it had come out that night, and during the Occlumency lesson he never should have done. Calm and trust were required on both sides in Occlumency, and he hadn’t ensured either of those things. It had simply been another way for him to release his stress and anger.

He'd been unfair towards Potter and Malfoy before, but this felt different, seemingly for all of them. They’d been together for just over two weeks, but something seemed to have changed, whether they really recognized it or not.

He was feeling immense guilt at telling Potter and Malfoy his torture was their fault, especially after Malfoy’s tearful speech in the library. He already knew they blamed themselves and believed they deserved their abuse, but to have it yelled at him with such hopelessness…

He took a large sip of his drink as the last sunrays disappeared, leaving the land in darkness broken only by slivers of moonlight and magical orbs of light that floated around the property.

He needed to undo what he’d done, no matter how difficult or uncomfortable. He couldn’t allow the boys to believe his lie and that they deserved to be abused so horrifically. He needed to do better, be better than all the others Potter and Malfoy had tried to rely on only to be failed tremendously and repeatedly.

He threw back the remaining alcohol and banished the glass to the kitchen. He steeled himself for an awkward conversation and went back inside.

“Potter! Malfoy!” he called, keeping his tone as neutral as possible. He heard doors and then guarded faces at the top of the stairs. “To the library. We must have a discussion.”

He headed up the stairs and followed the teens to the library. He sat in his usual wingback while Potter and Malfoy sat stiffly in armchairs, staring at him with what he recognized to be hurt and fear. The sight pulled at him as he remembered the ease that had come to exist between all of them during the last week. It had been an almost comfortable acceptance of each other’s presence and even help or understanding. No deep strides had been made in addressing Potter’s and Malfoy’s abuse, but some acknowledgements had been made. It had been his first step in getting them to understand they had been abused. Now, he had clearly destroyed any minute progress that had been made.

He gazed at them, resting his chin on his hand as he tried to figure out where to start. This type of conversation was not one of his strengths. He decided to, for once, just swallow his pride and put himself back at their age in a similar situation. He decided to do what he had always hoped anyone would do for him, but never did. He was sure it was something Potter and Malfoy had never received either.

“I want to apologize for my words and actions these past couple of days.”

He held Potter’s and Malfoy’s dumbfounded stared steadily. He knew he was right. Neither boy had ever heard an apology for being treated badly. Why would they when everyone who mistreated them believed they deserved it and convinced them of the same thing? He himself was one of those people. This was not the first time he’d mistreated Potter or Malfoy. He’d mistreated them for years and had believed they deserved it. However, this was the first time he was acknowledging it and admitting he was wrong, both to the boys and to himself.

The stunned silence rang out for a while as they all tried to understand what was happening, what was changing. As expected, Potter and Malfoy held an air of disbelief, hesitant to accept something so unknown coming from someone so hated.

“I was unnecessarily…harsh and what I said was not true,” Severus continued. It was difficult to say such things, to apologize and admit fault, especially to teenagers, but he had to. They couldn’t continue as they had been, not if they were to work and live together for another month. “Neither of you are to blame for anything that has happened, to you or anyone else.”

He watched their faces twist with obvious confusion.

“But—” Potter started, but he held up a hand to interrupt the thought and leaned forward, holding both sets of eyes intently.

“None of it is your fault,” he said firmly. “Potter, your uncle should not have touched you, and, Malfoy, your father should not have touched you. It does not matter what you did or didn’t do. It was not your fault and it was wrong of me to say you were to blame for anything.”

“But you don’t want us here,” Malfoy said quickly to avoid being stopped.

“Voldemort wants us,” Potter added.

“Yes, he does,” Severus agreed.

“We shouldn’t have left,” Malfoy said.

“Yes, you should have,” Severus countered.

“But we shouldn’t be here,” Potter tried to argue.

“Yes, you should be,” Severus said. “There is nowhere safer for both of you.”

“But you—” Potter said, he and Malfoy frowning deeply.

“Would be in the exact same position whether you were here or not,” Severus said. “I am a spy and I will always be in danger.”

He could see the inner battle the two teens were having. He didn’t expect them accept what he was saying in the moment, but he was satisfied they were at least listening. They would work on the acceptance.

“Mr. Malfoy, you expressed some concerns the other day,” Severus said, deciding to shift the conversation slightly.

Malfoy flushed lightly at the mention of his outburst.

“You are not going to die, nor are you going to fall into the Dark Lord’s hands,” Severus said.

“But…I can’t learn Occlumency in five days,” Malfoy said quietly.

“We will do what we can, but, I can assure you, you will remain safe,” Severus told him. He could only assume he’d made the decision after Malfoy’s outburst. He was surprised at himself, at his willingness to do so. He resolved to keep it to himself until that day to avoid Malfoy’s doubts and Dumbledore’s arguments.

Malfoy clearly didn’t believe him, but chose not to respond further.

“Potter, we will begin your Occlumency as well, though neither of you will have a real practical lesson for a few days to give you time to learn about the concept and practice,” Severus said, emphasizing ‘real’ so Malfoy knew what they’d done the other day had not been right. “You had another vision of my meetings?”

Potter nodded.

“Was the pain the same?” Severus asked.

“Not as bad,” Potter said quietly.

“But bad?” Severus said, raising an eyebrow. He knew the Gryffindor likely had a high pain tolerance and commonly played down how much pain he was actually in. He sighed when Potter shrugged. “I will find something to help with that.”

Potter’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you acting like you care?”

“Who says I am acting?” Severus said, understanding their hesitation.

“You hate me,” Potter said.

“Us,” Malfoy added.

Severus found it amusing how in sync the two boys could be when focused on a common issue. He really believed they could get along if they allowed themselves. He considered what they had said. He had hated these two more than any others. Did he still?

“It would seem some things have changed,” he said, only to receive looks of distress.

“They can’t have,” Malfoy said, shaking his head.

“Why not?” Severus asked even though he knew why they were struggling. It was odd to him as well, no longer hating his most despised students. However, he couldn’t just ignore what he’d learned, especially knowing he barely knew anything in reality. It was becoming clear that he truly did not know Potter or Malfoy, not like he thought.

“It’s only been two weeks and there’s nothing different,” Potter said.

“Yes, but I think we can agree that I have learned a fair bit about the two of you that has…dispelled many of my prior assumptions,” Severus said. “I cannot ignore what’s been done to you.”

“Everyone else has,” Potter said quickly.

Severus felt his face fall and gave them a gentle look at the sad truth of Potter’s retort. They had been ignored in favour of assumptions. If he looked back, would there be moments when he ignored the truth even though there were signs? How had they all allowed themselves to fall into such ignorance?

“I will no longer,” Severus said softly.

Potter and Malfoy clearly had no idea what to think or say, so they stayed silent with their faces full of confusion. Helping them would be a long process.

“I think we could all use some rest after the stress of the last couple days,” Severus said, noticing the circles under both boys’ eyes. “Get to bed.”

Potter and Malfoy said nothing, just got to their feet and left. Severus watched them go with a sigh, unsure if he’d be able to keep up the unofficial truce. He knew what they needed, but he still wasn’t sure he could be what they needed or if he even wanted to be. He’d told them the truth that he no longer hated them, but he still didn’t like them. They were still children and he had no desire to take care of anyone or have anyone dependent on him. He couldn’t return them to abuse, but he didn’t actually want to be responsible for them either.

He ran a hand through his hair with his own confusion and anxiety before going to bed himself.

Harry watched as Snape waved his wand over Malfoy’s shoulder, waiting for his own examination. It had been an odd couple of days, well, an odd several days.

Since the night Snape had viciously yelled at them and then the night Snape apologized, none of them seemed to know how to act. Snape had been…different, calmer and more tolerant or accepting. Malfoy had grown silent, his face constantly tight, and Harry figured it was because he was going back to Malfoy Manor the next day already. Harry didn’t know how to feel about anything himself. It had only been three weeks so he struggled with the idea that anything could have changed, considering how intense the hatred had always been between the three of them. He knew things hadn’t changed that much. He still didn’t like the Slytherins, but he couldn’t help but acknowledge that that’s all it seemed to be: dislike, not pure hatred.

Their three weeks together had revealed a lot and he supposed Snape was right; they were things that couldn’t be ignored and did change things. He never could have imagined he’d share anything in common with Snape or Malfoy, especially not his…abuse. Both Snape and Malfoy knew about his life with the Dursleys, but hadn’t used it against him as he’d expected. While he hadn’t exactly been kind, Snape had…helped them, let them heal, taken them in. Dumbledore had told him to, but he was sure Snape wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want just because he was told, even by the headmaster. He just couldn’t understand it all and it had made for a very strange few weeks, but especially the last few days.

“What happened here?” Snape asked, tapping Malfoy’s cheek and regaining Harry’s attention who noticed the faint line on Malfoy’s face. He remembered noticing the cut the other day and had briefly wondered how it had happened. While waiting for Malfoy’s response, Snape removed the blonde’s sling and began prodding the shoulder.

Malfoy seemed to be taken by surprise at the professor’s touch and inquiry. “Uh, it’s nothing. It happened when I woke Potter the other night.”

Harry frowned. The only time Malfoy had woken him up was when he’d had the vision or dream of Snape being tortured. Had he done something to Malfoy? He didn’t remember and he definitely didn’t mean to.

“What happened?” Snape asked again, glancing at Harry.

“I…I don’t—” Harry stuttered, not wanting to get in trouble for hurting Malfoy.

“I don’t think it was intentional,” Malfoy said. “He was still mostly asleep. There was a rush of air and I felt a sting.”

“It could have been your Elemental Magic,” Snape said, looking at Harry again. “Outbursts will be common for the both of you until you learn control in your training.”

Harry couldn’t help but notice the tightening in Malfoy’s face again. The blonde wouldn’t get to train and was about to be handed directly to Voldemort. He could understand Malfoy’s worry and a small part of him was honestly worried for the blonde. Even though he’d gotten the Dursleys killed, he’d gotten lucky and didn’t have to return to his horrible life. Malfoy not only had to go back to his violent father, but also a dark wizard that would do Merlin only knew what to him.

“Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy, you are officially healed,” Snape said, stepping back from Malfoy and moving over to Harry.

“Bloody well took long enough,” Malfoy grumbled, rolling his shoulder and spinning his arm in large, slow circles.

“How has it been feeling, Potter?” Snape asked, crouching down to look at Harry’s leg.

“More annoying than anything,” Harry admitted.

Snape nodded and waved his wand over Harry’s cast. An image briefly appeared over the cast before Snape ended whatever spell it was. “You will be free of this cast tomorrow.”

“Thank Merlin,” Harry said, relieved. He’d never taken so long to heal from his uncle before.

Snape stood. “Up to the training room. We will have a session today.”

Harry stood on his crutch and began to leave the dining room. He stopped when he realized the others weren’t following. Curious, he turned to find Snape had gotten about halfway to the door, but had also stopped and was looking at Malfoy. The blonde hadn’t moved; he was still in his seat at the table.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy?” Snape said, making Malfoy raise his head.

“Sir, I go back to my father tomorrow,” Malfoy said, his voice and face hard. “There’s no point in me doing any kind of training.”

Harry could tell Malfoy was trying to hid his disappointment at not getting to explore his new magic. Once again, he could understand. It was disconcerting that he seemed to be understanding Malfoy more and more.

“Nonsense, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said. “You must learn to use your magic.”

“But—” Malfoy tried to argue.

“Come along,” Snape said and raised an eyebrow when Malfoy still didn’t move. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

A deep frown on his face, Malfoy got to his feet. Slightly confused himself, Harry led the way up to the third floor. There were only three rooms on the third floor: two that were locked and the huge magic training room. Harry and Malfoy walked to the center of the room and turned to face Snape.

“We will continue to work on the wandless aspect of your magic,” Snape said. “Last time, you were both able to find your cores, correct?”

Harry and Malfoy nodded.

“Today, you will work on moving your magic around, particularly to your hands,” Snape told them. “Do you require a seat, Potter?”

Harry shook his head. “No, sir, I’m fine.”

“Very well,” Snape said. “You will access your magic as before. When you have it, you will picture it moving and send it into your hands. I want you to try and hold your magic in your hands for a minute or two.”

Harry and Malfoy nodded again and immediately tried to follow Snape’s instructions. Balancing on his crutch, Harry shut his eyes and tried to fall into himself again. It took a bit of time, but he eventually found his magic. He took a moment to just feel it before pulling out his Elemental Magic specifically. It was stronger and would definitely be harder to direct. It was already jumping around at being recognized. He took a deep breath and tried to settle the magic, gathering what few Elemental strands there were to try and move them with more control. There was a resistance when he started to push his magic towards his hands and, when he pushed harder, his magic became erratic once again.

“Stay calm,” he heard Snape say in a clam, quiet voice. “Do not force it. Let your magic flow naturally, but guide it.”

Harry listened and released his Elemental Magic. He let it flow as it wanted, but drew it close, guiding it in a loose circle around inside of him. Once it felt calmer and easier to interact with, he sent a gentle push at the magic to encourage it in a different direction. It stuttered and a few strands made to break away, but it eventually followed his push. He felt the magic travel through his body and soon felt a tingling in his hand, the one not gripping his crutch.

As soon as the magic trickled into his hand, it pulsed and rushed, wanting to be used and released. He tried to pull it back, feeling his control slipping rapidly. He felt panic rise at his lack of control and, from seemingly nowhere, the memory of the graveyard began to play in his mind. At the same time Voldemort cast the Cruciatus on him in the memory, he felt another painful pull in his chest. He gasped, clueless about what was happening and feeling weaker by the second. He forced his eyes open when he suddenly hit the floor and the pain in his chest grew.

“Both of you, stop!” Snape said loudly and Harry swung his eyes to Malfoy.

Malfoy’s hands were out, palms up, and they were glowing with multi-coloured strands swirling through his fingers. At Snape’s shout, the grey eyes also snapped open and widened at the sight of his own hands. Malfoy closed his hands into fists and Harry was instantly relieved of the pain in his chest. He drew in a deep, gasping breath, bringing a hand up to his chest, wondering what had just happened. Malfoy was staring at his hands with wild eyes touched with fear.

“Are you both alright?” Snape asked.

“What the hell happened?” Harry asked, both he and Malfoy looking at the professor.

“An aspect of Mr. Malfoy’s Aether Magic,” Snape said. “Being the type of magic it is, it can connect with any and all magical signatures and systems. When not specifically directed, it will connect with the strongest signature in the area and will direct that magic into Mr. Malfoy for use.”

“I…I was draining his magic?” Malfoy said, sounding horrified.

“Yes,” Snape said. “It would seem training together will not work until you both have more control.”

Malfoy was shaking his head. “All of this is a mistake.”

Harry frowned at the blonde’s words and watched Malfoy hurry from the room. What was that all about?

“Potter?”

Harry looked at Snape again to find the man holding out a hand, offering help. He hesitated for a moment, but then let the professor help him back to his feet. He got his crutch back under him.

“Alright, Potter?” Snape asked.

Harry nodded. It was as though his magic had replenished the second he was released from Malfoy’s magic. “What did he mean, a mistake?”

“It would seem Mr. Malfoy does not believe himself deserving of his magic,” Snape said, crossing his arms.

Harry’s forehead creased in confusion. “Why?”

“As you know, Aether Magic is also known as Celestial Magic,” Snape said and Harry nodded, remembering the man mention it before. “It is considered the magic of the gods due to its purity and connection to all magic.”

And, with that, Harry understood. Malfoy didn’t believe he could have such magic because he was a Malfoy. How could someone from a dark family destined to be a Death Eater possess such magic? He sighed, sympathizing slightly. He’d had his own doubts about his magic. He didn’t understand how he could have his magic either. He was nothing special or strong. He’d been weak all his life and was a pretty pathetic wizard. How could he have this rare, powerful magic?

He sighed again, wishing he could stop finding commonalities with his greatest rival.

Harry sat up in his bed, vigorously rubbing his face to push away his uncle’s evil sneer and the swinging belt. He shuddered as the ghost of the belt stung his back. Shoving his glasses on, he threw his blanket off and left his bed. He considered just curling up on the window seat, but decided he needed to be somewhere else. There wasn’t really anywhere he felt particularly comfortable, but the library was probably the closest, so he headed there. He tiptoed past Snape’s room and to the library, surprised to find one door cracked open.

He pushed it just far enough to slip in, but froze when he realized the library was not empty as it usually was when he visited in the dead of night. Harry gazed at Malfoy curled up across the library on the window seat, staring out at the moonlit grounds. The Slytherin had his knees bent and his hands tucked between his legs and abdomen. As he stared, Harry was positive he saw the moonlight glint off a tear on the other boy’s face. He was uncomfortable, having not expected anyone to be in the library and unsure how to approach an obviously upset Malfoy. He wasn’t sure he’d ever really seen this side of the Malfoy heir. Though, he supposed, that was probably by Malfoy’s design.

He shuffled awkwardly. “Are you okay?” he said eventually, breaking the silence of the library.

Malfoy’s head whipped around to look at him, the grey eyes shining, but instantly turning into a glare. “What the hell do you want?”

“I, uh, couldn’t sleep,” he said, choosing not to mention his nightmare. “Thought I’d come here for a little while.”

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, likely knowing a nightmare was the problem, before turning back to the window, the glare sliding from his face. “Yeah, me too,” he said quietly.

Harry stood at the door for a couple tense minutes before deciding to just sit. It didn’t seem like Malfoy wanted him to leave or anything, so he limped over to the closest poufy armchair and collapsed into it. He blew out a quiet, but deep breath. He couldn’t wait to finally get the cast off his leg the next day. He leaned back and stared at the empty fireplace, trying not to think about his nightmare even as it drifted to and from the front of his mind.

“I don’t want to go back.”

Harry looked over at Malfoy, surprised he had spoken. The Slytherin hadn’t moved, was still staring out the window, and it could almost convince Harry that the other boy hadn’t said a thing. Besides fighting, he and Malfoy had honestly hardly spoken in their three weeks together. To have the Slytherin say anything to him, let alone such an admission, was surprising and he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Maybe you can stay,” Harry said after a time, silently asking himself why he would even want Malfoy to stay.

“Dumbledore won’t allow it,” Malfoy said.

“He let me,” Harry pointed out. “Before my relatives died.”

“Yeah, because he likes you,” Malfoy said bitterly. “No one gives a damn about me.”

Harry couldn’t help but feel for Malfoy, knowing exactly how he felt. Growing up, he knew no one cared about him and, even now, besides a small handful, it still didn’t feel like anyone cared. No one had ever helped him with the Dursleys and, since entering the wizarding world, it felt like he was always left on his own. It was as though the world figured the Boy Who Lived didn’t need anyone. He gazed at Malfoy somewhat sadly, an expression he knew he’d never had around Malfoy, let alone for him. He didn’t know what to say. So, they sat in silence though, for the first time ever, it wasn’t tense.

Draco looked up as Dumbledore walked into the dining room. His stomach twisted, making him feel ill, and his heart began to pound in his ears. He looked across the table at Potter who had also stopped eating to look at the headmaster, remembering their interaction in the library last night. Admitting what he had to Potter and then having him as silent company had been strangely…comforting in the moment. He moved his gaze to Snape who hadn’t seemed to react to Dumbledore at all. The man was still sitting with his legs crossed and coffee in hand as he casually perused the Daily Prophet. He wasn’t sure he could say he’d enjoyed his three weeks with Snape and Potter, but it had certainly been better than his life at Malfoy Manor. He didn’t even want to think about what Lucius was going to do to him, let alone what Voldemort would do. Would he even get to go back to Hogwarts in September? Would he live that long?

“Good morning, my boys,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And happy birthday, Harry.”

“Oh,” Potter said, seeming to be surprised. “Right. Thanks.”

“I trust you have all had a productive few weeks together,” Dumbledore said.

Draco glanced at Snape again, seeing Potter do the same. They had no idea what to say. It hadn’t been overly productive. Too many other things had happened and they’d only just begun to be able to speak without fighting. Snape’s only response was to raise an eyebrow at Dumbledore over his paper.

“Right then, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said and Draco felt his stomach drop. “I believe you have been away from home long enough. Come along.”

Swallowing thickly, Draco slowly rose to his feet and began to circle the table. He’d only taken a couple steps when Snape finally spoke.

“Sit down, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said calmly, turning the page of the Prophet.

Draco froze, his eyes flicking between Snape and Dumbledore. The headmaster was giving Snape an odd look though he wasn’t sure it was seen since the Potions master was still behind his newspaper. Potter was also giving the two men his own look of confusion.

“Sir?” Draco said hesitantly, unsure what to do.

Snape lowered the paper and folded it, placing it on the table beside his empty plate. He looked directly at Draco who had no idea what to make of the strange expression in the man’s eyes.

“Were my instructions unclear in some way?” Snape said, his comment reminiscent of the way Draco was used to the man speaking to him, but the tone was completely different. He couldn’t identify the tone, but there was no anger or sarcasm or hatred or degradation.

Draco looked between the two adults again, torn. “I—”

“Sit down, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape repeated more firmly.

“Severus,” Dumbledore said, sounding disapproving. “Is there a problem?”

“Not at all, Albus,” Snape said so casually Draco could hardly believe the man was actively defying Albus Dumbledore.

“Then there is no reason to delay,” Dumbledore said and gestured at Draco again. “Come along, my boy.”

“Take your seat, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said, his tone a little stiffer. “He is not returning, Headmaster.”

Draco swung wide eyes to Snape, unable to believe what the man had just said. Was he serious? It was a dumb question because Snape was nothing if not serious about absolutely everything, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around the implications of what Snape was telling Dumbledore.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Severus,” the headmaster said, frowning as he clasped his hands in front of him.

“It is quite simple,” Snape said, clasping his own hands and resting his elbow on the edge of the table. “Mr. Malfoy will be staying here. I cannot allow him to return to his father.”

Draco knew he was gaping and saw his expression reflected in Potter’s face, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t believe what was happening.

“I do not think it wise,” Dumbledore said. “It would be very dangerous.”

Snape shrugged a shoulder, astonishing Draco with his calmness, though he was able to see a hardness in the dark eyes as they stared at the headmaster.

“The danger lies in sending him back,” Snape said. “I have seen and heard a fraction of what both Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy have been through at the hands of their respective caregivers, not to mention the threat of the Dark Lord should he get a hold of either of them. Now, Mr. Potter’s relatives are no longer a threat to him, but Lucius remains. I know what he is capable of and willing to do even to his own son. I will not allow Mr. Malfoy to return to such treatment, nor will I allow him to be handed over to the Dark Lord.”

Draco could feel tears burning behind his eyes. Was Snape…helping him? Protecting him? He’d never had anyone fight for him before.

“You will take Lucius Malfoy’s son even with your position?” Dumbledore said, referencing Snape’s delicate role as spy.

“He does not and will not know his son is here. He will believe his son simply ran away,” Snape said. “Shameful for him, but of no hardship to me.”

Draco couldn’t help the pang in his heart at the thought that his father—his parents—wouldn’t particularly care that he was gone except for the shame and trouble it would cause with Voldemort. Lucius would no longer have his prized child to offer up for Marking and that would make Voldemort furious. They already knew the madman was angry that Lucius couldn’t find Draco. There would be no care for the loss of Draco Malfoy, only for the Death Eater he was meant to become.

“Severus, this would only be a distraction for you,” Dumbledore said, somewhat coolly.

Draco glared slightly at the headmaster, but knew hurt was likely shining in his eyes at the implication he was in the way, a burden, a distraction. Glancing at Potter showed the same hurt in the green eyes. It was how they’d always been viewed…an irritation.

“I have managed these last three weeks,” Snape said. “They have been nothing of the sort.”

Draco’s and Potter’s heads swivelled to Snape, both gaping once again. Did Snape mean it? It hadn’t exactly been a smooth three weeks. Draco’s head was spinning at the surreal event unfolding, confused on how to feel.

“I cannot agree with this,” Dumbledore said, looking disappointed. “Any change in your relationship with these two will only cause more danger.”

“I am aware and I am not asking you to agree,” Snape said, “but the boys stay with me.”

Dumbledore and Snape stared steadily at each other for some time, fighting some silent battle. Eventually, Dumbledore inclined his head.

“Very well. We will speak more another time,” Dumbledore said. “Please bring Harry to headquarters when you come to today’s meeting. I believe he would likely enjoy spending his birthday with his friends.”

Snape just nodded and they all watched Dumbledore leave the dining room. They all remained quiet as they heard the Floo activate in the study. Once they were sure the headmaster was gone, Draco turned back to Snape with Potter, unsure what had just happened. He wasn’t going back? He wasn’t going to die at the hands of his father or Voldemort? Snape had just disobeyed Dumbledore for him? Draco watched nervously as Snape picked his Prophet back up and resumed reading as though nothing had happened.

“Sit, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said. “Both of you finish your breakfast, then I believe it is time you were relieved of your cast, Mr. Potter.”

Draco looked at Potter as though the Gryffindor would have some kind of clarity he didn’t, but Potter just gazed back at him and gave a tiny shrug. Draco slowly slid back into his seat and picked up his spoon. Overwhelmed, he fiddled with his spoon for a moment before dipping it in his oatmeal to resume eating as instructed, pleasantly surprised to find it had been warmed again for him. He glanced at Snape hidden behind the paper in wonder, amazed that it was Snape of all people that had stepped up to help him.

Prince Manor might never be home, but it was proving to be safe, and he was willing to accept that even if it was all he’d get.