“I should have known the two of you would disobey my instructions.”

Harry winced and turned around guiltily to meet Snape’s disapproving gaze. As usual, he’d managed to enter the room without making a sound, defeating Draco and Harry’s plans to jump up from the floor and away from the chess game they were engaged in when Snape returned home.

Snape strolled over and examined the chessboard. He tutted. “My word, Draco. He’s thrashing you.”

Draco scowled while Harry smiled to himself. It was still a little strange to him whenever Snape actually paid him a compliment, but it became a little less foreign with every passing day.

Snape waved his wand over the two of them, and a piece of parchment appeared from thin air. He read it with pursed lips before nodding. “You appear to both be healing well. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Draco said, rolling his ankle for effect.

“And you, Harry?”

“Fine.” The sharp pain of the fractured rib and the Skele-Gro had simply dulled to a slight tenderness.

“Good.” Snape joined his hands together. “Those boys have been… taken care of.”

  Ominous. 

“What did you do?” Draco asked eagerly. “Did you curse them? Oh, did you poison them?”

Snape frowned. “You do realise everything you’ve listed is illegal, particularly when it comes to a group of Muggles.”

“But did you do it?”

“Plausible deniability, Draco,” Snape drawled. “Do not incriminate yourself.”

Draco’s eyes gleamed. Harry stared between the two of them nervously. He didn’t think Snape had just murdered a group of Muggle teenagers, but that phrasing shook Harry’s confidence a little…

“Now, shall we order dinner? I have a series of menus the two of you can choose from if you follow me.”

Snape swept from the room. Feeling a surge of excitement, Harry leapt out of bed, ignoring the slight lingering prickle of pain in his side, and would have sprinted downstairs if not for the slow, exacting pace Snape was taking ahead of him on the staircase. He shot Harry a disapproving look, clearly having sensed Harry’s urge to run into the kitchen. Harry thought he had the right to be excited, though. He had never been allowed in on the food when the Dursleys ordered in. He didn’t even get leftovers, like he sometimes would with regular meals, because Dudley would go to great lengths to finish up everything just to spite Harry.

Eventually, they reached the kitchen, where Snape started digging through a drawer and retrieved a series of menus. He laid them out on the table. “Does Indian sound appealing to the two of you?"

“It sounds lovely, Severus,” Draco said with a nod. He didn’t look too put-out by their change of evening plans. Harry assumed it was because he was happy he didn’t have to enter a Muggle-infested restaurant anymore.

“Harry?” Snape arched an eyebrow. “Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry said with a shrug.

“Decide what you two would like, then,” Snape said, setting the menu onto the kitchen table. Draco immediately began to rattle off names. Harry stared at the different dishes, but didn’t have a clue where to start.

After a few moments, Harry awkwardly looked up at Snape and cleared his throat. “Er - do you have any suggestions?”

Mercifully, Snape didn’t comment, other than to point a finger towards one of the meals. “Chicken tikka masala tends to be well-liked.”

“Okay.”

“Do Muggles have poppadoms, Severus?” Draco asked.

“If a food isn’t somehow enchanted, it’s safe to assume Muggles have it,” Snape said. He flicked his wrist, and their order began to write itself on a notepad.

“The only stuff I’ve come across that Muggles wouldn’t know are things like chocolate frogs, honestly,” Harry chimed in, “and even Muggles have food shaped like animals. The only difference is that theirs don’t move.”

“But what’s the point, then?” Draco asked, looking rather disappointed.

“Does there have to be a point?” Harry asked. “Like you can get chocolate bunnies in the Muggle world at Easter. What’s not to love? Who cares if it can’t move?”

“Set the table, you two,” Snape said loudly, cutting off Draco’s brewing retort. “I’ll head around the corner to pick up the food.”

Harry and Draco spent the duration of the time Snape was away debating the inherent point of chocolate frogs and bunnies with far more vim and vigour than the topic probably required. Still, it was very light-hearted bickering. Harry was starting to realise that he just enjoyed arguing with Draco about things, even if it drove Snape spare.

For his sake, though, both of them did cut it off when the front door swung open as Snape returned with their food.

To Harry’s immense delight, the chicken tikka masala was incredibly enjoyable. He paired it with the poppadoms Draco thought Muggles didn’t have, as well as naan and pilau rice, all of which Harry thought he couldn’t get enough of. Harry made a concentrated effort to stuff himself, since the food was just so good. Snape, in his usual state of obsessiveness over Harry’s eating habits, watched all of this approvingly. He even offered up some of his chicken vindaloo to Harry when he saw him looking at it with interest. Harry was initially reluctant, since he didn’t want to basically steal off Snape’s plate, but the man was very insistent. In the end, one comment blew past all of Harry’s reservations.

“It may simply be too spicy for you,” Snape said. “You probably can’t manage.”

Harry scoffed indignantly and scooped a bit onto his spoon, pride wounded. “I can handle it!”

Harry, as it turned out, could not handle it. Eyes watering, he immediately downed an entire glass of water, feeling as though he’d just eaten actual lava. Snape observed all of this with obvious amusement, then proceeded to eat a mouthful without so much as flinching.

“How do you eat that and just not react at all?” Harry demanded. “I feel like my mouth’s on fire!”

“You adjust over time. At any rate, I enjoy the burn.”

Harry, with a newly-developed respect for Snape’s heat tolerance, returned to his milder curry. Draco observed him haughtily over his lamb bhuna, which, he said loftily, Harry would not be allowed to try any of because he obviously had the spice palette of a toddler. Harry glowered at him, retorted that Draco had the sharing capabilities of a toddler, and proceeded to hog the rest of the garlic naan.

The following morning, the usual Prophet owl that arrived at breakfast to bring Snape the paper was accompanied by a second, very familiar owl.

“Hedwig!” Harry said happily as she landed to one side of him. He unattached the letter on her ankle, instantly recognising Ron’s spidery handwriting on the envelope, and ran a finger over her feathers. “I missed you.”

Snape frowned at him. “I notice she’s been rather absent this last month? Why exactly is that?”

“Er - well, since Ron’s been in Egypt and Hermione’s been in France, it takes her longer to get places,” Harry lied. He thought it wasn’t smart to mention that he’d just sent Hedwig away to stay with Ron, since he hadn’t trusted her safety around Snape and Draco in that first, horrid week. Snape didn’t comment, but judging by the downward twist of his lips, he knew something wasn’t quite right. Harry placed the letter from Ron in his pocket, ready to read a little later.

“Now, you two need to finish packing your trunks today,” Snape said. “It’s only two days until term starts, and your robes are everywhere, Draco! We’ll all be leaving for Diagon Alley rather early tomorrow morning, and I don’t want to come back here to pick up misplaced belongings.”

With a jolt, Harry realised that Snape was right. There were only two more days of the holidays. What had seemed like a great stretch of time at Spinner’s End back at the start of August had actually started slipping away quicker than he could have realised…

And as much as Harry loved Hogwarts, a slight air of anxiousness settled over him as Snape continued to chide Draco for his scattered things. Harry tried his very hardest not to think too much about the new, positive dynamic between him, Snape and Draco, but there was no way to avoid it now - Harry really liked the change. Spinner’s End Snape was far preferable to Hogwarts Snape, and the same applied to Draco. They’d reached a tentative equilibrium in just the last few days, really, and things felt really comfortable. Harry didn’t want things to start shifting.

But there was no way around it; Hogwarts would change things. Would Snape and Draco revert back to their usual selves? Would Harry? Did everything they’d built these last few weeks just dissolve when they all returned to school?

And the letter burning in his pocket was a stark reminder of that. Because of the self-imposed lack of communication with his friends, Harry hadn’t dedicated much time towards thinking about what Ron and Hermione would have to say about his new relationships with Snape and Draco, mainly because Harry himself was still trying to get his head around it all.

And Snape was his unofficial guardian from now on. Harry was actually going to be living with him for the foreseeable future. What would they think of that?

It weighed on Harry, he had to admit. He found himself becoming rather quiet and withdrawn as he packed his belongings, which had scattered far and wide across Snape’s house, much like Draco’s. As his trunk filled, he couldn’t help but feel like packing was writing the end to a chapter he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to end, and wasn’t that a complete shock?

Packing was a rather time-consuming activity, especially with Snape strictly supervising and Draco constantly being around some corner or other, asking Harry a question or accusing him of stealing some article of clothing or book. None of this was particularly conducive to allowing Harry private time to read his mail, so he didn’t manage to get a moment alone to open Ron’s letter until just after lunch.

  Harry,

You must actually have the worst luck in the world! Living with Snape and Malfoy? That sounds completely miserable. Good luck with that, I’m so glad I’m not you right now.

   And yes, I’ve heard all about Malfoy and his parents. I was saving this news for when we meet up again, but my dad was actually on the team that raided their house so I’ve got loads of details! It’s absolutely mad! I’ll give you the summary now, though.

   You know how the Malfoys are all Dark, and Dad’s been trying for years to get Lucius Malfoy on something, but he just couldn’t prove anything. Anyway, he was really on the warpath this time because of everything that happened with Ginny and that diary. After we found out about that trapdoor to the basement and told him, he managed to get another search of Malfoy Manor authorised, and they actually found something this time! It was some sort of separate hidden room in the basement, Dad was the one to discover it and everything. The whole place was absolutely stuffed with Dark artefacts, stuff that could net you decades in Azkaban.

  Problem was, one of the Malfoys - my bet’s on Mr Malfoy - used this Dark spell to try and destroy the evidence. I think it was called Find Fynd Fiendfyre? It’s hard to spell, I’d never heard of it before this. Dad didn’t want to go too much into it, but it’s super bad. It burned their house to the ground and destroyed most of the evidence, but there was still some dodgy stuff that survived the fire that the Ministry got them on, and they both got time for casting the actual spell, since no one would fess up to it.

  I think it’s karma for all the Malfoys! After what Mr Malfoy did to Ginny, he deserves to be locked up for way longer than twenty years. He might be, too - Dad’s heard rumours in the Ministry that they might be trying Lucius Malfoy for all the stuff he did as a Death Eater that he claimed he was forced to do originally. It shouldn’t be too long before it gets announced in the papers. 

  Our Malfoy will finally have to get off his high horse now, won’t he? The Ministry’s seized all the Malfoy assets and money that survived the fire, so he’s even poorer than I am! The next time he tries to make fun of my family or my robes, I’ll be ready to get right back at him. You can use it against him too whenever you get this letter, especially if he’s being as much of a massive git as you’re saying. I might send this with Errol instead of Hedwig, since you want her to stay here, but I don’t think he could survive the flight. Anyway, let's make sure Malfoy pays for everything he’s done.

  Best of luck with those two! I hope you can keep your temper. It would make your life a hell of a lot harder if you blew Snape up like that aunt of yours, even if it would be pretty funny to see him floating around like a balloon.

  Best,

  Ron

Harry put the letter down next to him and sighed. Normally, mail from his friends never failed to cheer him up, but this one had just had the complete opposite effect.

So, Dark magic and artefacts. That was why the Malfoys had gone to prison….

Harry really didn’t like Lucius Malfoy in particular, and thought he did deserve to be in Azkaban. He was even happy that Mr Weasley had been the one to catch them. Harry just couldn’t take the sort of vindictive pleasure in Draco’s misery that Ron was expecting him to take, though. Just weeks earlier, if he’d received this letter, Harry would have been absolutely gloating, he knew.

But, despite all of his determination for things to remain the same, they just hadn’t. He’d personally witnessed how broken up Draco was over his parents’ imprisonment, and being happy about some sort of Malfoy family downfall was just impossible when you’d witnessed their son crying because his life as he knew it was forever changed. Even if Draco’s parents deserved punishment, he was a victim in all of this. It really tamped down the urge to dance around and celebrate.

That part about the Fiendfyre made Harry feel particularly uncomfortable. Draco’s house had burned down? That was awful! Harry generally didn’t pay much attention to Draco’s belongings, but after a morning full of packing, Harry had to admit it was quite weird that almost everything Draco owned could fit in his Hogwarts trunk…

In the same way that Harry, who’d barely had any belongings to call his own before he’d started at Hogwarts, could fit everything into his trunk. It was a startling parallel.

No wonder Snape had been so angry when he’d thought Harry had stolen the necklace that had belonged to Draco’s mother. That really was all Draco had of her, since everything else he’d ever owned had burned to a crisp…

And Harry really did understand why Ron was pleased. He knew perfectly well that Draco would have mocked Ron mercilessly if he was in Draco’s shoes without a moment of remorse, which Ron would never do without Draco starting it. He wasn’t trying to be cruel, Harry knew.

But Harry, troublingly enough, really wished that all of this hadn’t happened to Draco.

He angrily shoved the letter to one side and stormed from the room. He felt oddly torn between his best friend and his - well, whatever Draco was to him. And, once again, he’d just been violently reminded of how much things were going to change when he got back to school in ways he didn’t quite want to witness.

Harry spent the rest of the day in a terrible mood. He floated silently from room to room, retrieving his belongings and not speaking to anyone. He gave Snape entirely one word answers while they cooked together, and spent most of dinner gloomily pushing his food around his plate and not looking at anyone. He felt decidedly downcast.

“Right, that’s enough,” Snape said once Draco, who had finished eating far more quickly than Harry had, went back upstairs to continue packing. “Why are you in such a mood?”

“I’m not.”

“Well, if this is you in a good mood, I’d hate to see you annoyed,” Snape remarked.

“Am I not allowed to just be grumpy?” Harry asked exasperatedly.

“You aren’t generally prone to fits of purposeless adolescent moping,” Snape said, raising an eyebrow. “There’s always a reason with you. Tell me.”

Harry sighed and ate a tasteless bite of chicken to try and buy himself some time. “Just thinking about things.”

“What things?”

“Just… how it’s gonna be at school,” he said finally. That wasn’t entirely a lie, after all…

“Ah,” Snape said, lacing his fingers together. “I did wonder if you were going to bring that up.”

Harry sighed and stared hard at his plate.

“Let’s discuss it, then,” Snape said briskly. “The relationship we had at Hogwarts was… strained, to say the least.”

Understatement of the century, Harry thought, feeling rather disgruntled.

“I would like to assure you that my previous attempts to humiliate you will cease,” Snape said. “As we have discussed, my perceptions of you have changed, so there was never a risk of this happening again.”

“Okay,” Harry said slowly. Part of him still didn’t entirely believe Snape, but he wasn’t sure what either of them could do about that before school started up.

“Apart from that, I do not think it would be wise to behave as though we are anything more than a regular student and teacher,” Snape added. “We have spoken about how this arrangement would be a far more convenient one if it was largely withheld from the general public, so we ought not to give people the idea that we are particularly close. The Hogwarts staff will know, as I presume Weasley and Granger also shall, but outside of those parties we ought to limit the information.”

“Right,” Harry said with a nod. “Just… well, won’t people be suspicious of something if you suddenly stop picking on me?”

“You vastly overestimate how much your peers pay attention,” Snape drawled.

Harry cleared his throat rather awkwardly. “Er - okay, then.”

“If you must come up with some excuse to a particularly nosy classmate, feign ignorance or say you think that the Headmaster had a word with me, I suppose,” Snape said after a moment. “I doubt it will be a problem. My plan is to largely let you get on with things, so if you refrain from blowing things up or drastically ruining brews, we shouldn’t run into any issues.”

Harry nodded again, but didn’t speak. He had a slightly sarcastic comment about his Potions performance that he didn’t think it would be wise to voice, since he sensed Potions lessons were still tender and uncharted territory for the two of them.

Harry still wasn’t entirely sure what approach he was going to take when it came to Potions this year, actually. He automatically found it difficult, which meant he didn’t bother that much with homework he was bound to fail at anyway, especially since Snape refused to give him good marks when he hated Harry so much.

But if things really were different now, maybe Harry should put in a bit more effort to at least get passable marks, even if he found Potions hard. After all, he didn’t particularly want to fail a subject his… well, guardian was teaching. Besides, Snape had a habit of noticing traits of Harry’s and determinedly wearing him down until they were fixed or addressed, and his poor performance in Potions could very well end up being one of them if Harry wasn’t careful. He really didn’t want to end up in some sort of Remedial Potions class.

Harry would probably give it more of a go than he usually did, at any rate.

“When we’re in public, I will switch back to Potter,” Snape added. “In private, such as in my study or quarters, first names are appropriate, but we should otherwise maintain a level of formality.”

“Right.” Harry thought about Snape’s wording for a moment and frowned. “Wait, your study? Your quarters? Since when am I allowed there?”

Snape’s eyebrows rose. “I do not plan to ignore you for an entire year. I do wish to check in on you from time to time, especially since we’re living in the same place.”

“Oh.” Harry hadn’t really thought about things from that angle, truth be told. He supposed that was another symptom of having the Dursleys for guardians. Harry largely pretended that they didn’t exist during the school year, and they certainly didn’t bother to write him letters…

But Snape was actually invested in Harry’s wellbeing, as odd as it was. He didn’t ignore Harry like his previous guardians had, so they actually could talk to each other. Harry supposed it would be a bit odd if the two of them wrote letters to each other like everyone else did when they were in such close proximity.

“You remember where my office is from the incident involving the flying car, I presume?” Snape asked.

Harry nodded, trying to hide his wince at the reminder of the Ford Anglia. “More or less.”

“My quarters are located through there. You may seek me out whenever you wish.”

“Really?” Harry asked. “What if you’re busy?”

“They I won’t answer the door, and you can come back at a different time,” Snape said simply.

Right. Harry supposed that made sense. He was still having a bit of a hard time imagining himself really going to Snape with issues, though. While Harry was a bit more willing to talk to Snape when prompted than he had been a few weeks ago, Harry didn’t tend to seek him out to talk. He was just used to dealing with things on his own. Besides, he’d be a bother.

“Does this alleviate some of your concerns, then?” Snape asked.

“Yeah, it does,” Harry said. “Thanks.”

“Eat up, then,” Snape ordered. Harry nodded and returned his attention to his meal, which was actually a great deal easier when he wasn’t so preoccupied with his worries.

“Another thing,” Snape added suddenly. “You’re able to buy all of your school supplies without my aid, I presume?”

Harry gave him a bemused look. “Yeah, obviously?”

“I simply wished to check, since you’ll be largely unsupervised tomorrow,” Snape said.

“I’ve got it,” Harry said again.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “Be sure to behave yourself. Do not leave Diagon Alley, don’t even look at Knockturn Alley, or you will face highly unpleasant consequences.”

“I wouldn’t anyway!” Harry said quickly. His ill-fated trip through the Floo network had thoroughly disabused him of any desire to explore there.

“And you’re to be polite with the Weasleys,” Snape added. “Ensure you mind them.”

“I will.” Harry smiled to himself a little. It was odd to see Snape going all… well, parental was the only word he could think of to describe it.

Snape frowned thoughtfully. “This has reminded me - what electives did you decide to take?”

“Care of Magical Creatures and Divination.”

Snape wrinkled his nose. “Divination? Really?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Harry demanded.

“I do not believe it is a subject that can be taught.” Snape flicked his wand, and Harry’s empty plate began to scrub itself in the sink.

“Well, I’m being taught it.” Harry cocked his head. “What’s Draco taking, then?”

“Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures. I believe the two of you will be sharing a class for the latter.”

“Huh.” Harry wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. His knowledge of how Draco behaved in lessons consisted of Draco in Potions, which had always been a particular brand of horrible…

How would Draco be in lessons now, away from Snape’s sharp reprimands and surrounded by a gaggle of vindictive Slytherins who were more than happy to support his every ill-mannered remark? If they even did that, of course… Harry hadn’t entirely forgotten the angry missive from Pansy Parkinson, as well as the apparent falling-out with Crabbe and Goyle that had been revealed in it.

“If you’re at all concerned, I’d like to believe Draco will continue to behave himself at Hogwarts,” Snape chimed in, tracing the route of Harry’s thoughts.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“He knows he’ll have me to answer to if he doesn’t,” Snape said smoothly. “Feel free to tell me if he does anything untoward. I will happily, ah… mediate.”

As Harry wasn’t a snitch he certainly would not be taking Snape up on that, but he hoped Draco did stay in line. As much fun as lighthearted bickering could be, the more unpleasant, proper fights just weren’t enjoyable when Harry knew they had the capacity to be civil with one another.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and see if he’d like to do something with you? It’s your last evening together, after all.”

Snape phrased it as a suggestion, but Harry knew it was more of an order. He nodded and headed out of the kitchen, pleased to be feeling a great deal less ill-tempered than he had upon entry. While he was still a bit worried about how everything was going to turn out, Harry at least felt a little more reassured that things weren’t going to go too horribly wrong.

He walked into the bedroom rather cheerfully, and saw Draco was sitting on his bed. Harry smiled at him. “Fancy a game of chess?”

Draco didn’t respond immediately. Harry took a closer look at him and realised he was holding a letter. Ron’s letter.

“What are you doing, reading my mail?” Harry demanded irritably.

“Oh, that’s the problem here?” Draco said in a shaky voice. He crumpled up the letter in his fist and threw it to the ground. His face was stark and white, and Harry felt something in his stomach lurch unpleasantly as the contents of Ron’s letter came flooding back to him.

“You know, I really thought you were different now, Potter,” Draco hissed. “Clearly I was wrong. You just wanted to gossip about me with your stupid friends! This whole time, I thought -” Draco cut himself off and glared at Harry. “I should have known better than to trust a stupid Gryffindor like you!”

“Draco, I -”

“Shut up!” Draco hissed. His eyes were narrowed and stormy. “I don’t want to hear any of your fake excuses when you’ve just been having a right laugh about my problems with the Weasel. I bet you thought it was dead funny that I lost my parents, and my home -”

“I don’t!” Harry said desperately. “Draco, I asked him ages ago, I promise -”

“And what in Merlin’s name is this stuff about the trapdoor?” he demanded. “How did either of you hear about that?!”

All of Harry’s platitudes died on his tongue. He could not, under any circumstances, tell Draco about the Polyjuice! What was he supposed to say?

He winced and stared at Draco for a long time before attempting a response, mouth dry. “Look, it’s just a letter, don’t -”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Draco’s voice was cold with fury. “Have it your way, Potter. We don’t have a truce, we’re not friends, and I will never, ever trust you again. Don’t speak to me, don’t even look at me. You’re a right bellend, and I want nothing to do with you.”

He roughly shouldered past Harry and stormed out of the bedroom. Harry heard the bathroom door slam shut. He stared into the gloomy hallway, feeling a little bit like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him. Harry was all too familiar with the act of hiding how upset you were behind an exterior of anger, and that was what Draco had clearly been doing. He was hurt. There was no mistaking it, even if he was trying to seem highly aggrieved. Draco was genuinely upset by what he’d read in that letter…

Even though it was none of his bloody business. Despite how wretched and guilty he was feeling, Harry still thought he had the right to be a little irritated. That was his private mail, and Draco shouldn’t have been reading through it if he didn’t want to potentially come across things that could upset him.

But even as Harry tried to convince himself of that fact, he couldn’t stop the overwhelming feeling of regret. As much as he’d wanted to know what on earth was going on with Draco's family, he hadn’t wanted answers to come at the cost of their budding rapport. Harry didn’t dare try and explain himself, though. Draco seemed far too angry to listen to reason at the minute, and Harry was still slightly wary of the possibility of getting something lobbed at his head when Draco's temper got the best of him.

But Harry wasn’t even sure if a calm Draco would be able to get over this, based on that explosive reaction. He felt like he’d been holding something very precious but very fragile in his hands, and one mistake had broken it beyond repair. Harry just thought it was a right shame that he hadn’t realised the extent to which he cared about what he and Draco had until it was forcefully ripped from him with no opportunity for its return...