The High Inquisitor
When Harry returns to the dorm after having washed up for bed, he discovers the other boys discussing ways of getting back at Umbridge on his behalf and can’t help but feel a surge of fondness for them. He settles down next to Draco on his bed and listens as Seamus finishes off what sounds like a very elaborate, but also reckless prank involving chocolate frogs with transfigured fangs… Blaise whacks the Irish boy in the face with his pillow to shut him up finally and everyone else snickers.
”What?” Seamus demands.
”Like you know how to transfigure chocolate fangs! If you don’t have anything useful to say, shut up!”
”Fine”, Seamus bristles. ”You come up with something then!”
”We could transfigure her into a chocolate frog”, Crabbe grunts.
”And then eat it”, Goyle adds eagerly.
”Ehm… how about… no…” Draco says slowly, frowning uncomfortably at the two boys as they shrug in unison and go back to wolfing down the crumpets and biscuits they’d managed to sneak into their pockets at dinner.
”Harry, you said she collects decorative plates?” Blaise says suddenly. ”With kittens on them?”
”Yeah”, Harry says. ”She has at least fifty of them on her walls.”
”How about…” Blaise says quietly and the others instinctively lean eagerly. ”We break into her office and switch the plates, so that instead of mewling kittens, she’ll be surrounded by croaking toads…”
The boys all exchange excited looks (except for Crabbe and Goyle who don’t seem to be listening to the discussion anymore), beaming at each other; not only is the idea hilarious, it’s also quite doable! Everyone turns to Harry for some sort of final say, and he grins widely and nods.
”How are we going to get into her office without her noticing?” Seamus says.
”We’ll need a distraction”, Harry says.
”One that can’t be traced back to any of us”, Blaise adds with a nod. ”I might have an idea…”
”What?” Draco asks eagerly.
”I’ll let you know later, if it works out…” the other boy says cryptically.
”Oh, come on!”
”Later”, Blaise insists stubbornly.
Despite it being a nightmare night, Harry doesn’t wake up once during the night, but his sleep is still plagued by unsettling images and by the time Draco shakes him awake the next morning, he feels unrested and oddly weighted down.
The heavy feeling lifts somewhat when they reach ground level and the clear sky can be seen through the many windows they pass on their way to the Great Hall. By the time they settle down at the Slytherin table for breakfast and the enchanted ceiling spreads out beautifully blue over their heads, the feeling has almost completely lifted and Harry feels almost light.
”Want to go for a fly after breakfast?” he asks Draco eagerly.
”I think the Quidditch pitch is booked this morning”, Draco says, smirking slightly for some reason and Harry frowns, but opens his mouth to say it doesn’t matter, they can fly somewhere else, but Draco cuts him off, his smirk widening. ”But we can watch the other team practise…”
”What?” Harry frowns. ”Why would we—?”
Draco shrugs with obviously faked nonchalance. ”It would be a shame to waste such a beautiful day indoors—”
”Yeah, I know, that’s why I asked you if you wanted to—”
”And it might be fun”, Draco interrupts him for a third again and Harry bristles.
Then a thought strikes him and he scowls suspisciously at the blonde. His suspiscions only grow stronger when he glances over at Blaise and Pansy sitting across the table from them, only to discover a matching set of smirks on their faces.
”Which team has got the pitch booked?” he asks.
”Ehm… Gryffindor, I think…” Draco says with feigned uncertainty, his grey eyes glittering.
”What’s going on?” Harry demands.
”Nothing”, Draco lies, his smirk widening to a grin. ”Only, it might be strategically sound to check out their new Keeper, is all…”
”Strategically sound — hang on — who’s Gryffindor’s new Keeper?”
Draco finally turns to meet Harry’s gaze and his grin shrinks sligthly, but not entirely.
”It’s Ron, isn’t it?” Harry says.
”Maybe…”
”Draco”, Harry says, with a frustrated sigh. ”No. We are not going to mess with Ron—”
”Who said anything about messing with anyon—?”
”Stop it”, Harry snaps. ”You’re not fooling me!”
Draco’s smirk finally falls and turns into a pout.
”No”, Harry says again. ”I want you to leave Ron alone!”
”You’re no fun…” the blonde mutters. ”The rest of the team are going. And it wasn’t my idea, you know. Flint—”
”I don’t care. You’re not going”, Harry says firmly.
”Why?” Draco demands.
”Because it’s mean and I don’t like that you enjoy it so much”, Harry says plainly. ”Makes me think you’re a mean person, and I don’t like that.”
”It was Flint’s idea, not mine”, Draco mumbles, glaring at his porridge.
”Yeah, and I would never date Flint — because he’s mean!”
A tense silence stretches out, but after a while Draco mutters a fine and lets go of his spoon. It clatters into his porridge bowl and a few drops of milk hits Harry in the face. He grimaces and wipes them away, but doesn’t say anything about it.
When they leave the Great Hall, he asks Draco again if he wants to go for a fly, but the blonde sniffs haughtily and says they have too much homework to do. Swallowing a sigh and throwing the blue sky outside the windows a final look of longing, Harry grudgingly agrees to spend the day in the library instead.
He could go flying by himself, of course. But he rather not risk his and Draco’s tiff turn into a proper argument.
As it is, Draco doesn’t speak to him all day, which is equal parts annoying and heartbreaking, but at least they get most of their homework done… and Harry has learned by now that if he sticks close to the blonde, but keeps a low profile and just lets him stew in quiet, he will cool down eventually. And he does this time too.
By the time they make their way from the Great Hall to the Common Room after dinner the tension has completely left the other boy’s shoulders and brow, and as soon as they settle down in one of the sofas in front of the fireplace, he drapes his arm around Harry’s shoulders and cuddles close, nudging the side of Harry’s face with his nose.
”Sorry for being… you know…” he murmurs quietly.
Harry immediately turns his face towards the other boy, their noses bumping together, and he gives him a small smile of reassurance before he leans in for a kiss.
It was meant to be quick and chaste, but Draco nestles his fingers in his hair and eagerly deepens it, their lips vibrating against each other as they both moan quietly. Draco gives Harry’s hair a gentle tug that sends a jolt through him and, conscious of their whereabouts, Harry finally breaks the kiss before it gets too heated.
”You’re not still jealous, are you?” he asks in an undertone once they pull apart and then watches warily as the blonde’s eyes immediately shutter. ”You have no reason to be, Draco. None, whatsoever.”
The frown on the other boy’s face softens sligthly, but he still doesn’t say anything.
”Draco?” Harry prompts. ”You believe me, don’t you?”
”Yeah”, the blonde says immediately, but Harry can’t help but notice a glint of doubt in his eyes.
”Draco…”
”Yeah, I believe you”, the other boy says again, looking down with a sigh. ”I do, I just… I can’t help it, okay? It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s him… I don’t trust him…”
”But… Draco, Ron and I haven’t even said two words to each other since school started—!”
”I know.”
”And I won’t”, Harry says. ”I won’t even say hello to him, if you don’t want me to. I don’t care. I just want you to be happy…”
Draco looks up at him again, his grey eyes shining like silver as they bore into Harry’s own.
”I promise…” Harry adds earnestly.
”All right”, Draco says decisively. ”Then I’ll ignore him too. I won’t tease him or make fun of him, or his family, again — unless he starts it…”
Harry sighs.
Guess that will have to do, he thinks and smiles wryly.
He nods. Deal.
With most of their homework finished already, Harry and Draco enjoys a lazy Sunday with their friends until their evening Quidditch practise.
Flint seems unusually chipper when they gather around him and Harry can only imagine how Ron’s first practise with the Gryffindor team had gone for their Captain to be in such a cheerful mood… but it can’t have been pretty, Harry thinks and he resolutely avoids looking at Draco for the duration of Flint’s pep talk, because he doesn’t want to see the blonde come to the same conclusion, and react to it.
It’s not that Harry doubts Draco’s sincerity when he promised to stop teasing the Gryffindor, but he also doesn’t expect him to stop delighting in the redhead’s misfortunes any time soon and he meant what he said the day before… He really hates it when Draco’s being mean.
Jokes are one thing. Harry is the first person to laugh when Draco does one of his spot-on impersonations or makes an on-point sarcastic comment. But when it’s nasty and cruel, it’s just not funny. Not remotely.
Besides (and Harry would never tell Draco this outright, but…) those are the times when the blonde bears an uncanny resemblance to his father and if it is one thing Harry hates, it’s Lucius Malfoy — if Draco were to turn into his father…
But he won’t, Harry thinks firmly. I won’t let him.
Finally, after a gruelling four hours of training, Flint calls a halt to the practise and the team trots back to the castle in exhausted silence. Harry and Draco collapse into their respective beds as soon as they get to the dorm and Harry feels his eyelids droop the minute his head hits the pillow, only half aware of Draco in the other bed grunting about how he’s fallen out of love with Quidditch…
”…Chaser is so much harder than being a Seeker…”
”Mmm…” Harry mumbles, turning his face into his pillow.
And before he can tell Draco yes, when the blonde demands to know if he’s even listening to him, he’s already drifted off into a fitfull sleep.
*
It’s with sore muscles but a feeling of deep satisfaction and accomplishment that Harry drags himself out of bed the next morning and he readily returns Draco’s knowing smile as he stretches languidly before changing into his uniform.
The Great Hall is in its usual Monday lull when they sit down for breakfast, but it’s broken in their section of the Slytherin table at least, when Draco slams down his copy of the Prophet and lets out an outraged gasp.
”What?” Harry and Pansy echo each other worriedly, both watching the blonde warily as he glares down at the paper.
”Is it about Harry?” Blaise asks in an undertone and cranes hid neck to read the headline on the front page.
Draco shakes his head and leans back, allowing them all to see the front page better.
MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM
DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR!
”Oh, lovely…” Pansy murmurs coolly.
The others exchange uncomfortable looks, but no-one says anything else. The last remnants of sleepiness has been stomped out of the group, but the mood around the table is far from uplifting. If anything, Harry feels like someone has put a blanket soaked with ice-cold water over his shoulders, weighing him down and chilling him to the bone at the same time.
When Blaise had made comments about Umbridge and her methods being out of Dumbledore’s hands, it hadn’t seemed real to Harry — it had just been another one of the bitter, cynical exaggerations that the other boy was prone to making, but now… well, now it’s more than real. It’s official.
”Well…” Draco mumbles finally, flattening the paper with slightly shaky hands. ”Doesn’t matter… you’ve sat your detentions, Harry. And none of us are going to get in her bad books again, so… doesn’t matter…”
”But we’re still on for the — ehm — interior decorating scheme, right?” Seamus whispers.
”Don’t be stupid”, Draco hisses. ”We can’t risk that now!”
”Oh, come on… we’ll be really careful, she’ll never know it was us—!”
”She might suspect Harry”, Draco counters.
”Not if he’s where she can see him, while the rest of us carry out the prank”, Blaise says lightly, with a small shrug that suggests he doesn’t care either way.
”I’m not getting into trouble again, just so you can have all the fun and carry out the prank without me”, Harry says.
”Obviously, that’s not what I meant”, Blaise shoots back. ”If you’re both in her office, we can hardly do anything to her plates that are also in her office, now can we?”
”There’s no point arguing about it”, Draco says. ”Because we’re all going to keep our heads down from now on! It says here that the Ministry has passed new legislation that gives them, and her, almost complete control over Hogwarts — if she got away with using a blood quill before, then I do not want to find out what she’s allowed to do to anyone who messes with her, on that level, now — we are not doing it! And before you say anything else, it’s not just our own expulsion we’d be risking, because listen to this… ’The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure they are coming up to scratch’… what do you think she would do to the Head of House of the group of students that vandalised her office?”
”She wouldn’t sack Professor Snape over a prank…” Seamus says, but he glances around at the others uncertainly.
”Do you want to risk it?” Draco counters. ”He’s the only professor who isn’t biased towards us slytherins, and who stands up to the other teachers for us, do you really want to lose him as Head of House—?”
”Of course we don’t”, Blaise says. ”Don’t be so dramatic. Seamus is right (must be a blue moon), no seriously, even if we were to get caught, there’s no way the Ministry could justify firing a professor who’s worked at Hogwarts for over a decade, providing excellent results for the most part, just because a handful of the students in his house were caught performing an essentially harmless prank.”
”We are not doing it”, Draco bites out stubbornly.
Blaise simply rolls his eyes, but doesn’t press his point and no-one else bothers fighting the blonde on it either, however Seamus looks torn between disappointment and pride whenever he glances sideways at Blaise, obviously surprised and thrilled that the other boy had sided with him.
Harry had consciously not taken a side, because as much as he’d loved the idea of getting back at Umbridge for those awful evenings and for the words now permanently scratched into the back of his hand, he does see Draco’s point… and if he were to be involved in an elaborate prank on the High Inquisitor, and get caught, then he’d be breaking not only his promise to his dads and Professor Snape to stay out of trouble, but his promise to Draco too… it wouldn’t be worth it, he tells himself firmly.
Although, if they don’t get caught —
”Bastard”, Draco hisses suddenly next to him and Harry flinches, believing for a second that the blonde had somehow managed to read his mind, but when he looks over he’s relieved to see the other boy’s eyes are fixed on the paper again.
”What?” he says. ”More bad news?”
Draco gives his head a small shake, without tearing his eyes away from the article on the front page, his face twisting into a rather ugly scowl.
”What then?” Harry mutters. ”They’re putting Filch in charge of punishments? He’ll get his thumb screws back finally?”
”No”, Draco says shortly, his lips never even twitching. ”It’s just… my father…”
”What?” Harry exclaims, mind whirring to a stop suddenly.
”Here…” Draco mutters and shoves the paper away from him as if it was something dirty and smelly.
Harry skims the article until the words Lucius Malfoy jumps out at him and reads the following paragraph more carefully.
”… ’I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation’, said Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire Mansion last night. ’Many of us with our children’s best interest at heart’”, Harry snorts derisively. ”’Have been concerned about some of Dumbledore’s eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.’… among those eccentric decisions are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin…”
Harry stops reading abruptly and shoves the paper away as well. It’s immediately snatched up Pansy, who bends over it eagerly, Daphne and Blaise both craning their necks to read the article over her shoulders.
”Why does he always have to…” Draco trails off with a frustrated sigh, but a sheen of hurt is clearly visible in his eyes and Harry’s chest twinges at the sight.
”Did you ever tell them?” Harry asks carefully.
”What?” Draco frowns.
”About my detentions”, Harry clarifies. ”Because if you didn’t, then he’s no way of knowing — not that I’m sticking up for him or anything, I’m just saying—!”
”It wouldn’t have made a difference, he doesn’t care!” Draco snarls. ”He only cares about himself and his — his — standing!”
”Okay…” Harry says softly.
”Come on”, Pansy says, just as softly. ”We’d better get going if we’re going to make it to Divination on time, we don’t want to be late in case she’s inspecting Trewlawny…”
It’s with a mixture of curiosity and dread that Harry trudges up the stairs to the North Tower with the others, wondering what Umbridge’s inspection of Trelawny might be like if she was indeed going to sit in on Divination, because obviously the subject is a joke and Trelawny herself even more so, the random predictions that she likes to throw at the students always missing the mark and all of them taking the mick out of her without her even realising it… but in a weird way, Harry has almost learned to, not quite enjoy Divination, but it’s an easy enough class really, when you think about it, and he’d hate to lose the ’O’, as well as the opportunity for midday naps, just because Umbridge doesn’t think Trelawny is up to par…
But when they enter the classroom, Toad Face is nowhere to be seen, and the lesson trickles by in much the same way as Divination usually does, Trelawny warning Daphne about her already-dead grandfather’s declining health and then predicting Harry’s demise as a final (and predictable) party trick, before the bell rings and they shuffle out of the classroom again.
With their next lesson being Double Potions with the Gryffindors, literally as far away from the North Tower as possible unless you count the greenhouses or Hagrid’s hut, they don’t get even a minute’s break between lessons, but have to head straight to the dungeons and even so they have to walk quite briskly the whole way to make it on time.
”Settle down”, Snape says smoothly as soon as everyone is seated.
He slides the door shut with a definitive click and then sweeps up the middle aisle of the classroom towards the teacher’s desk at the front, sending the moonstone essays to their rightful owners with a lazy flick of his wand as he goes. Harry eagerly pulls his closer and unrolls it. His heart lurching pleasantly as he spots the large, spiky ’E’ scrawled in the top right corner of the parchment.
”I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your O.W.Ls… this should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination”, Professor Snape says and swirls around the face them from behind his desk.
Harry’s heart pounds pridely in his chest and he glances at Draco quickly, sharing s small smile with him before focusing on the Potions Master once more. The man’s black eyes lock with his for a split second before darting away to glare over at the Gryffindors on the other side of the classroom instead, but Harry swears he saw flicker of a smirk on the man’s face.
”Some of you handed in acceptable essays and were graded accordingly, but the general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week’s essay on various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a ’D’ in the future…”
Next to Harry, Draco lets out a small scoff and whispers incredulously, ”Some people got a ’D’? Ha!”
Another smirk flickers onto Professor Snape’s face, but he studiously ignores looking over at the Slytherin side of the classroom. Instead, he pins Longbottom with a stern look and the chubby Gryffindor gulps.
”Today, you will be making a basic Antidote to most common poisons”, Professor Snape continues. ”The ingredients and instructions are on the board. Begin.”
”What did you get?” Harry asks Draco in an undertone as the classroom fills with idle chatter. ”You got an ’O’, didn’t you?”
The blonde simply smirks back, but there’s no mistaking the relief and pride that make his eyes glitter and Harry grins back, clapping him on the shoulder and allowing his hand to linger for just a second too long.
”What about you?” Draco mumbles, his cheeks pink with either embarassment or pleasure and he ducks his head slightly to hide it.
”I got an ’E’”, Harry says, smiling.
”Me too”, Blaise pipes up on the other side if Draco. ”I don’t get why though… My essay was bloody brilliant. I even added two extra inches on the reaction to hellebore—”
”Yeah”, Draco says, giving the other boy a surprised look. ”That part was brilliant—you should have got an ’O’—!”
”Well, it might be because it was too long”, Harry says with a shrug. ”Professor Snape is probably just making a point—guys, think about it… he gives you an ’O’ for a fourteen inch essay, when he’d clearly said he wanted twelve inches, and before you know it, Granger is handing in five feet homework assignments!”
Draco snorts and nods his head in agreement.
”Still…” Blaise says, sending a half-hearted glare at Professor Snape’s back as the man sweeps down the length of the classroom. ”See if I ever put in any extra effort ever again…”
”At least you got an ’E’ though”, Seamus mutters. ”I only an ’A’…”
Blaise gives the Irish boy a calculating look, then promptly tells him to go to the store cupboard and fetch their ingredients and leave the brewing to him. The other boy gives him a sour look, but pushes to his feet without further protest and stalks over to the open store cupboard.
Harry follows him to get the ingredients for his and Draco’s potion, smirking slightly as he overhear his Irish friend mutter to himself about uppity wankers and their pouty lips, before grabbing the bezoars right out of Lavender Brown’s hands.
”Hey!” The brunette girl says indignantly, but Seamus ignores her.
He does shoot Harry a glare when he snickers though, as does the Gryffindor girl, so Harry quickly grabs his last two ingredients and ducks out of the store cupboard again before they both bite his head off.
The rest of the Potions lesson passes by without incident, which is quite remarkable for a class with Longbottom as well as Crabbe and Goyle in it.
Even Professor Snape seems taken aback, going so far as to inspect Longbottom’s antidote an extra two times when he’d found nothing wrong with it the first time around, as if thinking it impossible that the boy had actually managed to follow intructions for once in his life — only to then decide that there is no possible way that he could have, and so promptly takes five points from Gryffindor with a pointed glare in Granger’s direction. The girl’s hair seems to get even frizzier as she draws herself up indignantly, but she doesn’t protest. Professor Snape seems to take this as confirmation of his suspicion that she’d secretly helped Longbottom and Thomas brew their potion and scowls deeply as he barks at them all, ”Class dismissed!”
They don’t see Umbridge all day, but they hear rumours about her inspecting Trelawny when she was teaching the Fifth Year Gryffindors and that it hadn’t gone very well — for Trelawny. Harry can’t really bring himself to care, however. Sure, Divination is an easy enough subject and he’s happy for the ’O’ he’s guaranteed to get in his O.W.L.s for the trouble of having his untimely death predicted on a regular basis, but as much as Harry knows that Divination is all hokum, and he actually couldn’t care less if the lines in his palm or the tea leaves left in his cup spell out some terrible fate, he has noticed that it seems to bother Draco… in fact, it seems to bother the blonde more and more with each passing lesson, and for that reason Harry wishes Trelawny would give it a rest already — and if an inspection by Toad Face is what it takes for that to happen, then so be it!
He is however glad that he didn’t have to be around to see it. In fact, any amount of time spent away from Toad Face is time well spent… Harry is sure his nightmares will be infiltrated by bulging brown eyes and flabby cheeks any night now, but until then, he’ll try his best to forget about the woman’s existence…
Which is fine five days of the week, but the remaining two they have Defence on the schedule and Harry has no choice but to face her… it’s not fair, he thinks. DADA used to be my favourite subject!
But ever since Toad Face started teaching it, Harry would do anything to drop the subject entirely.
Even if Toad Face had managed to rattle Trelawny, she shows no sign of being pleased with herself when the Slytherins file inside the Defence classroom the next day. Even though she smiles widely at them from behind her desk, it clearly doesn’t reach her muddy brown eyes.
A few students have hopefully (or rather naïvely) left their wands out, but she immediately tells them all to put them away.
”Turn to page nineteen and proceed to read Chapter Two: Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation, please… there will be no need to talk…”
Harry swallows a sigh and slams his copy of Defensive Magical Theory down on the desk and flicks the pages to chapter two. At this rate, DADA is getting awfully close to being as dull as History of Magic —
”Yes, Mister Potter?”
Harry looks up in surprise. Umbridge is watching him with narrowed eyes, her plump cheeks lax around her frown.
”Nothing”, Harry says. ”I didn’t say anything. Ma’am.”
”I suppose you too have an opinion on Wilbert Slinkhard’s view on counter-jinxes?” she says, rather shrilly.
”What?” Harry says, frowning.
”You know, I seriously despair”, Umbridge says loudly, sweeping her rather manic eyes across the stunned class. ”Of the level of incompetence and recklessness that you… poor children… have been subjected to so far in this class! With the exception of Professor Quirrell, who at least seems to have kept to an age-appropriate curriculum, the teachers that you have had so far have been nothing short of dangerous—!”
”Yeah…” Harry whispers in an undetone to Draco and Blaise. ”Quirrell was great, except for the little matter of having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head—”
”MISTER POTTER!” Umbridge shouts shrilly.
”What?” Harry says loudly.
”I’m sorry to interrupt your little social gathering! Whatever you just said to Mister Malfoy and Mister Zabini must have been awfully important… in fact, it seems to have been something so important, that it couldn’t wait until after the lesson, so why don’t you stand up and tell the whole class what’s on your mind, Mister Potter?”
Harry simply glares back.
”No?” Umbridge says and blinks innocently at him.
”No”, Harry bites out.
”Oh dear… we really are regressing, aren’t we… Let’s try that again!”
”I didn’t say anything!” Harry all but shouts in exasperation. ”Ma’am.”
As if suddenly pulled by an invisible rope, Umbridge lurches forward and takes several tottering steps towards Harry’s desk and he cringes back warily as she pins him with a furious look, eyes popping out to such an extent he almost expects them to come flying out of their sockets, like Moody’s magical eye did when Barty Crouch Junior began to transform back and his real eye pushed the magical one out of his skull… Harry flashes back to that moment and remembers the sound the glass eye made as it clattered to the floor and rolled over to him, swivelling uselessly at his feet —
”Mister Potter”, Umbridge all but hisses in his face and Harry blinks the memory away again, meeting the woman’s eye dead on. ”You are treading on very thin ice. Don’t make matters worse for yourself and your house…”
”I didn’t say anything”, Harry grumbles again — will she just let it go?
”I think we all know that is another one of your… filthy… little lies, Mister Potter. Now, I am going to give you one more chance to tell the truth. What… were… you… saying—?”
”I said Quirrell was great”, Harry bites out.
A small smile flickers onto the woman’s face, her pudgy cheeks quivering slightly on either side of it.
”Oh, silly me… here I thought we’d made some progress, Mister Potter, but apparently you’re still nothing but a naughty, evil little liar… let’s see if another week’s worth of detentions will do the trick!”
And that’s when it dawns on Harry that he’s walked straight into the evil hag’s trap.
”But Professor—!” Draco blurts out, but immediately cuts himself off again when Harry knocks their knees together under the desk.
”Now turn to page nineteen and read Chapter two”, Umbridge says with a cutting glare in Draco’s direction. ”There will be no need to talk.”
*
”Harry”, an all too familiar deep voice barks behind him and Harry all but jumps. ”A word with you, please!”
His friends all give him looks of sympathy and he grimaces slightly and mutters to them to go ahead. He can hear the Potions Master’s quick footsteps behind him and turns around slowly to face his fate… that’s overly dramatic, he tells himself. But when he looks up into Professor Snape’s glittering black eyes, his stomach drops.
No, he thinks miserably. I think it might actually have been an understatment… I’m so dead…
The Potions Master pulls to a sudden halt a meter in front of him and opens his mouth to speak, but something stops him suddenly and his eyes narrow into suspiscious slits. Harry knows that look. But then…
”What have you done now?” Professor Snape demands.
He doesn’t know, Harry thinks. So he’s not here to give me Hell after all… But then what —
”Harry!”
”S-Sorry, Sir… I… I…”
”Out with it”, Snape hisses impatiently.
Harry sighs and hangs his head.
”I got another week of detentions from Umbridge”, he mumbles.
”What!”
”Sir, I swear, I didn’t do anything!” Harry exclaims and watches in mild fascination as the Potions Master draws himself up to his full height and promptly pinches the bridge of his nose. ”I-I’m sorry, Sir…”
”Harry…”
”I didn’t do anything”, Harry mumbles again, well aware of sounding like a petulant First Year.
Another rare sigh escapes the older man and with a weary come on, he leads Harry to his office. He wordlessly points Harry to the chair in front of the desk, before sweeping around it to stand next to his own chair. Harry gingerly perches on the edge of the seat and continues to hang his head.
Even though he genuinely doesn’t think he did anything to deserve the detentions, just being in this office and sitting in this chair, with his Head of House literally towering over him, Harry can’t help but feel the weight of guilt from all the other times he’s been in here, in trouble…
”How are you sleeping?”
Harry jerks his head up and looks at Professor Snape in surprise.
”Well?” the Potions Master prompts.
”Fine, Sir”, Harry says earnestly. ”Much better. I only had one nightmare last week.”
Professor Snape nods curtly, his face revealing nothing, but there’s a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes that tells Harry this is surprisingly good news.
”I am going to lower your dose to once a week”, he says and finally sits down in his desk chair. ”And I would like to try stopping the course completely over the Christmas holidays… obviously, if the nightmares get worse again, we will resume treatment once school starts again. But in such case we might need to look into alternatives, as Dreamless Sleep is not intended for permanent use.”
Harry nods in understanding. He remembers both his daddy and Professor Snape explaining this to him at the beginning of the school year. At the time, the idea of not being allowed to keep taking the Dreamless Sleep potion was a nightmare in itself, but now… Harry is almost certain he could stop taking it completely right now, and he’d be fine.
It’s true he’s only had one nightmare in the past week, but even that was alright compared to the night terrors of last summer. Playing Quidditch in thunder storms and staring at mysterious doors he can handle. Just as long as he never has to revisit that graveyard again, he’s absolutely fine.
”Good”, Professor Snape says, then fixes Harry with an intense look. ”Harry, you can’t keep doing this… I don’t care what you have to do, but if you don’t get this situation with Umbridge under control, I will have to write home to your dads.”
”I understand. I promise I’ll… try harder…”
”Good”, Snape says again and swiftly stands up again.
”Bad”, Draco says later in the Common Room. ”Very bad, Harry!”
”I’m not a — a — pet!” Harry splutters indignantly and their friends snicker around them, but Draco merely narrows his eyes. ”Oh, come on! You were there — you were all there — you know I didn’t do anything!”
”Oh, no, you didn’t do anything”, Draco says sarcastically. ”Apart from landing yourself in detention foranother week!”
”I didn’t do anything to warrant those detentions, and you know it”, Harry grits out. ”That bitch has it in for me!”
”Harry’s right, Draco”, Pansy says quietly.
”You stay out of this!”
”Ex-cuse me?” the girl says, each syllable dripping with venom and the blonde immediately recoils.
”S-Sorry, Pans, I didn’t mean to snap at you…” he mumbles.
”Thank you”, the girl says in a clipped tone before flicking her hair quite dramatically over her shoulder and turning towards Daphne and Blaise, clearly determined to ignore Draco for the forseeable future.
”What about me?” Harry mutters, not really expecting an apology from his boyfriend but feeling like he should at least demand one, and as expected, Draco simply glowers back. ”Well, I should get over there”, Harry adds with a sigh. ”If I’m late, she’ll just make me stay even longer…”
The heat in Draco’s eyes simmers down considerably at that, but he still doesn’t apologise. Harry wouldn’t really expect him to, though. He’s quite surprised he apologised so readily to Pansy, actually.
But then again, he thinks wryly as he glances over at the girls and Blaise, before pushing to his feet and leaving the Common Room. That girl is scary.
*
Harry knows exactly what to expect from a detention with Toad Face by now, has every part memorised, from the exchange of cold greetings at the start, through the punishment itself, which is a confusing mix of pain and tedium, to the most dreaded moment when the woman walks over to him and grabs a hold of his bleeding hand with her own meaty paws to check the damage… but even so, even though he knows exactly what to expect and manages to get through the full three hours with his emotions in check, jaw clenched and hand moving swiftly and determinedly across the parchment, when he’s finally allowed to leave the injustice of it all, combined with the searing pain in his hand, makes his eyes well up and by the time he reaches the dungeons he has to take a moment to collect himself before entering the Common Room.
Of course Draco sees right through him anyway, judging by the grim look on his face. And his friends as well, but at least he’s not a complete snivelling mess for all of his other housemates and Quidditch team mates to see, which is something…
”I’m going to bed”, Harry mumbles and attempts a crooked smile that is so wry it’s actually more of a grimace, but when the others mirror it they do so rather sympathetically, so Harry can pretend it was a successful attempt after all.
”I’ll come with you”, Draco says.
Harry says nothing, but dutifully waits for him to gather up all of his books and homework essays, even though his hand is throbbing with almost unbearable pain now and he really just wants to get away from everyone’s worried eyes before he breaks down again.
Draco finally manages to collect all of his homework and stands up.
”Pans…” he mumbles, nodding to a small glass jar left on the table that Harry immediately recognises as the salve Professor Snape usually gives him for his cut.
Pansy grabs the jar and puts it on top of Draco’s toppling pile of books.
”Thanks”, he says, craning his neck to recieve her goodnight cheek kiss. ”See you in the morning.”
”Sleep tight”, she murmurs, and gives Harry another pinched smile. ”G’night, Harry…”
”Yeah, g’night”, Seamus says. ”See you later.”
”Good night”, Blaise and Daphne echo softly.
Harry gives them all a small nod and another tense smile, then gives Draco a quick look, pleading with him to hurry up already and the blonde seems to get it because he springs to life so suddenly the pile of books almost topples out of his arms, the glass jar sliding precariously close to the edge of top one.
In the dorm, after he’s disposed of the books and homework on top of his trunk to be sorted later, he helps Harry out of his uniform and then gentle rubs some salve into the still bleeding cut. As soon as the salve starts to work its magic and soothe the stinging wound enough that Harry can focus on something other than the pain, he notices for the first time just how tense his boyfriend is. His face is drawn and his whole body is tight with tension, as he works silently and efficiently.
”Thanks” Harry murmurs thickly. ”You don’t have to, this one works just fine…”
He holds up his other hand and smiles thinly. Draco’s eyes flicker up to meet his for half a second, before focusing on his hand again, his lips never even twitching. Harry sighs.
”I’m sorry, Draco…”
”You didn’t do anything”, the blonde replies immediately.
I know, Harry thinks. I really didn’t… But why do I feel awful then?
”Professor Snape dropped by earlier”, Draco mumbles. ”With the murtlap.”
”The what?”
”The murtlap”, Draco repeats, meeting his eyes again. ”The salve?”
”Oh… I didn’t know what it was called…”
”It’s a salve made from murtlap essence and aloe vera.”
”Oh”, Harry says again, not knowing what else to say.
”There… all done…”
”Thanks”, Harry mumbles again.
”You’re welcome.”
They turn away from each other in unison, getting ready for bed in silence. Draco helps Harry into his pyjama top, but then turns away again to change into his own pyjamas and by the time they crawl into their respective beds, Harry feels like crying again.
”Draco…?” He whispers.
”Yeah?”
”Are we okay?”
”Of course we are”, Draco says, forgetting to whisper. ”What do you mean?”
”Nothing…”
”I’m not upset with you…”
”Okay”, Harry mumbles, feeling a little better but not much.
He curls up with a soft sigh, carefully putting his hand on top of the covers so the fabric won’t irritate the cut during the night and is just beginning to drift off when the blonde speaks again.
”This can’t go on.”
”Wh-what?” Harry mumbles. ”What’s that?”
”Nothing. Sorry, go back to sleep—”
”No, what did you—?”
”No really. We’ll talk in the morning. Good night, Harry.”
The blonde is still in a weird mood the next morning, avoiding Harry’s and everyone else’s eyes and Harry can tell his muscles are all tight with tension and a subtle frown is pulling together his brow, as if he were in pain but trying not to show it. Harry asks him softly if he’s okay, but only gets a short nod in response.
Draco stays unusually quiet all throughout breakfast, opening his copy of the Prophet under the guise of reading so no-one will disturb him, but Harry can tell his eyes are firmly fixed on the photograph on the front page, never moving over the surrounding text at all.
Harry is starting to get really worried, but when they filter into classroom 1B for Double Transfiguration with the Gryffindors, he forgets all about it because on a small stool in the far corner of the classroom sits Toad Face with a smug smirk on her face and a clipboard in her lap.
As soon as Harry and his friends have claimed their usual back row and settled into their seats, Professor McGonagall comes marching into the classroom in her normal fashion, much like a very strong and determined windstorm sweeping across the land, or in this case, classroom, and if she notices Umbridge sitting in the corner, before promptly turning her back to her, she gives no indication of it. Instead she starts barking out instructions to the Gryffindors sitting nearest the front, like it’s a lesson like any other.
”Mister Thomas, kindly hand back the homework. Miss Brown, please take this box of mice — don’t be silly, girl, they won’t hurt you — and hand one to each student —”
”Hem, hem…”
The surge of rage that immediately flares up inside Harry at the by now familiar and loathed little cough, quickly goes out again when Professor McGonagall ignores it.
”Right then, everyone listen closely — Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention — most of you have now successfully Vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have got the gist of the spell, I think. So today, we shall be —”
”Hem, hem”, Umbridge lets out another cough.
”Yes?” McGonagall hisses impatiently and whirls around to face the other witch for the first time.
”I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec—?”
”Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom”, McGonagall says swiftly, then turns her back on Umbridge again, much to the students’ delight. ”As I was saying… today we shall be practising the much more difficult Vanishment of mice. As you’ll remember from the introduction to the Vanishing Spell, the more complex the creature, the harder—”
”Hem, hem.”
”I wonder”, McGonagall says in a louder, but still deceptively calm voice, shooting a furious glare at the ceiling. ”How you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I don’t usually allow people to talk when I am talking!”
Smirk widening to a gleeful smile, Harry looks over at Umbridge. She clutches the clipboard rather desperately in front of her, blinking stupidly at McGonagall’s back as if she can’t quite believe what just happened. The shock only lasts for a second, though. Almost immediately, a furious frown contorts the witch’s face and she begins to scribble frantically on her clipboard.
Harry glances over at McGonagall again, wondering if she’s at all concerned about the results of her inspection. But Professor McGonagall couldn’t look less concerned if she tried and the sight of her stern face as she continues to explain the challenges of Vanishing a mammal compared to an invertebrate, as if everything was normal, makes Harry feel a fondness for her that he hasn’t felt since she stepped in and helped Draco when Moody the imposter had transfigured him into a ferret.
At the end of the lesson, as Lavender Brown is walking around collecting bits of mice from everyone, Umbridge hops down from her stool and approaches the teacher’s desk. She asks McGonagall how long she’s been teaching and receives such a curt answer — ”Thirty-nine years this December!” — that she doesn’t seem to want to ask anything else while the students are still there. But Professor McGonagall is clearly not sticking around, but gathering her things quickly and then snapping her bag shut with such finality, Umbridge really has no choice but to fold and instead she stammers out something about the results of the inspection being delivered within ten days.
”I can hardly wait”, McGonagall says coolly, sweeping away from the other woman. ”Come on, you lot, hurry up, please!”
Harry can’t help but to laugh when she shepherds him and the rest of the students out of the classroom and then slams the door shut, with Umbridge still in there.
”That was brilliant”, Seamus chortles as they head down the corridor and the others readily agree with him.
They continue to chat excitedly about it as they trundle outside and Harry is happy to see Draco looking more like himself again, smirking in amusement as Seamus skips alongside him and regales them all with his theories about what McGonagall would have done if Umbridge had coughed a third time. They’re just cutting across the courtyard, when the angry coice of Marcus Flint suddenly echoes around them and stops them in their tracks.
”POTTER!”
Harry feels his amusement quickly abate as he turns around to see his Team Captain come marching towards him, closely followed by a frowning Adrian Pucey. Flint looks positively murderous, his sunken cheeks flushed pink and his eyes flashing dangerously.
”Yeah?” Harry mumbles uncertainly.
”You missed practise last night!”
”I know, I’m sor—”
”And you’ve got another detention again tonight? And every other night this week?”
”Well, I —”
”That’s four practises you’ll be missing! Need I remind you that we have a very important game coming up? And just how are we meant to practise without a Seeker? Eh?”
”It wasn’t his fault”, Draco says, earning an incredulous glare from the Team Captain. ”And we can practise fine without a Seek—”
”Oh really? And I suppose we can play Gryffindor fine without a Seeker as well? Didn’t I tell you at the start of term that I wanted to put in extra practise time this year and really bond as a team? Didn’t I tell you that I expected everyone to put Quidditch first, or they’d be off the team? Is that what you want? You’re both good fliers, but I will kick you off the team in a heartbeat if you don’t start taking the Quidditch Cup seriously and don’t think I won’t!”
”All right, Marcus, that’s enough, they’ve got the point…” Adrian mutters and next to him and Flint immediately wheels around to pin him with a furious glare.
”That goes for you too!”
”Excuse me?”
”You heard me!”
Harry sighs as the two older boys begin to fight and gives the others a significant look, jerking his head towards the south side of the courtyard to say they should slip away while Flint is distracted and the others are eager to comply.
They all hurry across the courtyard and down the grassy slope towards Hagrid’s hut and paddock, where Professor Grubbly-Plank is waiting for them next to the trestle table where their Bowtruckles are gathered, munching on woodlice.
They’re halfway through the lesson when Umbridge and her clipboard come tottering down the slope towards them and Harry feels what little remnants of good spirits he’d had left after Flint had a go at him abruptly go out at the sight of her.
She starts circulating amongst the students, quizzing them on magical creatures and asking them about the class, and about Hagrid, before she sidles up to Professor Grubbly-Plank.
”You don’t normally take this class, is that correct?”
”Quite so”, Professor Grubbly-Plank says with a decisive nod. ”I’m a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid.”
Harry can see Umbridge’s eyes glint with interest as she leans in a little closer to the other woman and lowers her voice slightly, ”I wonder — the Headmaster has been very vague on the matter — could you tell me what’s causing Hagrid’s extended leave of absence?”
Most of the students have completely abandoned their Bowtruckles by now and are eagerly listeing in on the conversation, curious about the half-giant’s mysterious absence themselves.
”I’m afraid not”, Grubbly-Plank says breezily. ”Just got an owl from Dumbledore, would I like a few weeks’ teaching work. I accepted, and here I am.”
”And what do you plan to cover with this class this year — assuming Hagrid doesn’t return?”
”Oh, I’ll take them through the creatures that would most likely show up in their OWLs — not much left to do actually, since they’ve already studied unicorns and nifflers — I thought we’d cover porlocks and kneazles, make sure they can recognise crups and knarls, you know…”
”Well”, Umbridge says with a wide grin, making a very obvious tick on her clipboard. ”You know what you’re doing, I have to say!” She turns back around and directs her next question at Goyle. ”Now, I hear there have been some injuries in this class?”
”Yeah”, Goyle grunts, his beady eyes flitting over to Draco and Umbridge immediately turns to him instead.
”Mister Malfoy?”
”Yeah, I got slashed by a hippogriff”, he says.
”A hippogriff?” Umbridge repeats, her eyebrows climbing up into her curling fringe and she begins to scribble furiously on her clipboard.
Draco shifts his weight a little, his eyes darting from Umbridge’s clipboard to a point just above Harry’s shoulder and Harry can guess why he’s feeling uncomfortable. He obviously doesn’t want to help or do anything that might please Umbridge, Harry thinks. But on the other side… if there can be at least one silver-lining to the massive cloud that is the High Inquisitor’s control over Hogwarts, then getting Hagrid sacked from his post as Professor and back to being just a Gamekeeper, unable to force any more dangerous (or boring) creatures on them, then that might just be worth it.
Or not, Harry thinks as he watches his boyfriend sink back into his shell and avoid everyone’s eyes for the rest of the lesson, clearly conflicted. Harry gently lets his shoulder brush up against his, just to show he’s there and that the blonde has his support. Draco’s eyes flit up to meet his, but quickly flicker away again and he remains silent.
In fact, Harry doesn’t hear Draco’s voice again for the rest of the day. Not until they’re making their from Charms, the last lesson of the day, all of them dragging their feet slightly despite the prospect of dinner due to the exhaustion of a long day at the end of a long week, Pansy and Daphne half-heartedly weighing the pros and cons of skipping dinner in favour of getting the homework out of the way so that they can go to bed early, when Draco suddenly throws his head back haughtily and more or less exclaims, ”Well, that’s my appetite gone, thanks a lot, Seamus —!”
”What—?” the Irish boy says, startled.
What, Harry’s thoughts echo.
”Like I needed the mental picture of Weasel doing that to the mudblood! Ack, there goes me gag reflex—!”
Harry blinks stupidly at the blonde, while his brain whirrs to a sudden stop, before sluggishly trying to backtrack for any clues he might have missed that would explain where that had just come from. But before he’s managed to comprehend much of anything, a sudden force knocks into his shoulder and he stumbles sideways.
”You—!”
”No, Ron, don’t—!”
Harry wheels around to see Granger standing just behind them, wringing her hands anxiously as she continues shouting at Ron leave it. Harry wheels back around again just as quickly and his heart stutters at the sight of Ron pulling his fist back and landing a solid punch on Draco’s cheek and effectively cutting off the blonde as he sneers, ”Does she taste of mud down th—?”
”Ron, no! He’s not worth it!” Granger exclaims, too late.
Harry’s stomach jolts as Ron’s fist bouncing off Draco’s cheek bone with a sickening thump and Draco’s head snaps to the side. He slowly turns it back and touches his bruised cheek with trembling fingers, while glaring furiously at the redhead.
Then with a snarl he charges him and slams into his chest with all of his strength. Ron topples over backwards and soon, the two boys are rolling around on the floor, clawing, grappling and punching each other’s bodies blindly.
”Filthy mudblood-lover!”
”Fuck ugly ferret!”
”GET OFF ME, TRAMP—!”
Harry is just about to jump in and separate the two, when they sudden spring apart as if pulled by invisible ropes. Harry blinks, staring from the two panting boys to his friends. They all look just as dumfounded as he feels.
”Hem, hem…”
The whole group wheels around and stares at the small pink-clad witch who stands a few metres away from them in the hallway, smiling smugly.
”Oh dear…” she simpers, curling her fingers around the tip of her wand and looks between Draco and Ron. ”Fighting… in the hall… tut, tut… who wants to explain themselves?”
”Malfoy started it”, Ron says immediately, shooting the blonde a vicious glare.
Draco merely glares back, but doesn’t say anything.
”Mister Malfoy, is this true?”
Draco’s glare flits from Ron’s red face over to Umbridge, but he still refuses to speak.
”Mister Malfoy?” Umbridge prompts.
”He didn’t”, Harry blurts. ”He didn’t start it. Ron threw the first punch—”
”Mister Potter, I believe I asked Mister Malfoy and not you!” Umbridge snaps, but her narrowed eyes finds the red mark on Draco’s cheek bone and she seems to come to some sort of realisation.
”Professor”, Granger says hurriedly, her eyes flickering between Draco’s bruised cheek and Umbridge’s face. ”Malfoy did start it, he was picking a fight—!”
”Shut up, Mudblood”, Draco says in a loud, carrying voice that seems like it should leave behind an echo even if it doesn’t and everyone falls into a stunned silence.
”Draco”, Harry hisses, staring incredulously at his boyfriend.
The blonde ignores him and keeps staring at Umbridge, his eyes glinting with some barely repressed emotion and chest heaving with quick, shallow breaths.
”Ten points from Slytherin”, Umbridge says decisively then. ”Now, all of you, get to dinner—!”
She begins to turn away from them, but freezes when Draco’s whispered bloody bitch reaches her and then slowly turns back around again. Everyone but Draco and Umbridge seem to be holding their breaths, looking anxiously between the two of them as they stare each other down coldly.
”Excuse me?” she whispers.
”I didn’t say anything”, Draco says immediately, but his eyes keep glittering madly at her.
”Mister Malfoy… I think it might do you some good if you… joined Mister Potter in detention this evening…”
”No!” Harry blurts out.
”Be quiet, Mister Potter!” Umbridge barks out, without tearing her eyes away from Draco. ”Both of you, in my office, tonight at seven! Now get to dinner!”
”What the Hell is wrong with you?” Harry hisses at the blonde as soon as the woman is out of earshot.
The Gryffindors give them weird looks and begin to back away, before hurrying down the hallway. Draco swallows thickly and finally meets Harry eyes and even though Harry can see all sorts of fear and worry in the grey orbs, the rest of the blonde’s face is set in resolve.
What the Hell is going on with him? Harry thinks desperately, shaking his head in confusion.
”Draco”, Harry prompts sternly.
”Let’s just go eat”, the blonde says quietly and begins to walk down the corridor again.
Harry turns to the others, but they look just as stricken and confused as him and Pansy just shakes her head wordlessly when he gives her a questioning look.
All throughout dinner Draco is back to his earlier, silent self again, like the scene in the Charms corridor never happened at all, and when the two of them make their way to Umbridge’s office just before seven, Harry shoots him a couple of sidelong looks but Draco keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the floor in front of him, his mouth set in a thin line.
”Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Harry asks finally, as they stop in front of the Defence Office’s door.
”After”, Draco says curtly and knocks on the door.
”Enter”, Umbridge’s simpering voice filters through the oak.
Draco immediatly pushes the door open and steps inside, without glancing in Harry’s direction even once. Harry swallows a sigh and follows him.
It’s by far the worst detention yet, and it’s got nothing to do with the cut on the back of Harry’s hand. It starts bleeding freely after only three lines and by the time he’s halfway down the page, his whole hand is throbbing with pain. But Harry barely even notices. The only thing he can think of is Draco sitting next to him.
The blonde’s body is pulled tight like a string, bursting to break beneath the pressure of a bow, his eyes staring determinedly at the parchment in front of him but glittering with unshed tears. Every time Harry looks over and sees them, and the small frown of pain on his brow, and the way his free hand curls tighter and tighter, he feels a stab under his breast bone.
Usually Harry can zone out during his detentions and just speed through his lines, but now he’s achingly aware of every passing second, every word that the other boy scratches out on his parchment… Harry glances over at the crimson words carved into the back of his hand again, a stark contrast to the bone white skin and already dripping blood down the side of his trembling fist… I must not tell lies… in Draco’s swirly handwriting, not Harry’s hippogriff scrawl.
When the first couple of tears tumble over the edge of Draco’s lashes, Harry forces himself to look away. For a second, he allows himself to glare at Umbridge, and he allows himself to fill up with pure hatred for the woman as she smirks back at him. Even as he tears his eyes away again and fixes them on his parchment, he keeps the hatred alive inside, like a fire keeping him warm from within… he feels his heart beating in the wound on his hand and with every beat, every throb of pain, he thinks bitch-bitch-bitch-bitch…
Finally, at the stroke of ten, Umbridge lets them leave. They trudge through the castle in tense silence. Not until they reach the end of the spiral staircase leading to the dungeons does Draco open his mouth to mutter grimly, ”Now let’s see if father cares about her methods of discipline…”
Harry stares at him.
Oh.
Oh, Draco…
As if hearing Harry’s thoughts, Draco’s gaze flits over to him and he gives him a sour look loaded with challenge. Harry swallows thickly and says nothing.
On their way back to the Common Room, they stop by Snape’s office to get some more murtlap salve and the Potions Master invites them both in to his office and demands to know what they’re playing at. Both boys hang their heads and mumbles out some vague excuses.
”Enough!” Snape barks. ”If either one of you puts so much as one toe out of line from now on…”
”Yes, Sir…” they mumble in unison.
”Draco”, Snape snaps and the blonde startles slightly. ”Take this and go wait for Harry in the Common Room.”
He holds out the jar of murtlap salve and Draco quickly grabs it from him with a nod. He hurries out of the office, leaving Harry alone with their Head of House.
”Harry, when we spoke yesterday, you promised me you’d get the situation with Umbridge under control and now —”
”I don’t know what flew into Draco”, Harry says earnestly. ”Well, I mean, I had no idea at the time… what he was…up to…”
”Up to?” Snape repeats suspisciously.
”He… I think he provoked Umbridge on purpose, so that he’d get detention with her as well…”
Snape’s eyes widen slightly again.
”He’s going to tell his parents”, he murmurs. ”That boy, I swear…”
Sitting down with a heavy sigh, Snape glares at the words carved into the back of Harry’s hand.
”Speaking of which”, he says. ”You should tell your dads, as well, Harry.”
”Wh-what?”
”There’s no way that won’t scar”, Snape says, nodding towards the cut and then swallows thickly like he might be sick. ”They should hear it from you…”
Harry nods, feeling slightly sick himself.
How am I going to tell them? Harry thinks hopelessly. How can I possibly?
Snape’s eyes flicker up to meet his again, so Harry nods again.
”Harry, I’m… so sorry… I tried to—”
”I know”, Harry says quickly, giving the man an awkward smile.
”It’s not all right”, the man hisses furiously. ”Appointing that woman is one thing, but this… even by the Ministry’s standards…” He trails off and lets out a sigh. ”I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will set things to right before the end of the year… but in the meantime, please, Harry… please stay out of Umbridge’s way.”
”I will, I promise…”
”And make sure to pass the message on to the others, as well… especially the younger students. I think they listen to you more than they listen to me.”
Harry blinks in surprise.
”No, Sir, please don’t think that — everyone in Slytherin has the deepest respect for you and anything you say!”
”Really…” Snape says drily.
”Yes, Sir”, Harry says earnestly. ”It’s just me that’s got a… ehm… problem with impulse control sometimes, is all…”
The man’s thin lips give a small twitch, just a ghost of a smirk that flickers onto his face for a split second before it’s gone again and he gives Harry a small nod of acknowledgement.
”Well, me and Seamus”, Harry adds. ”I think it’s the Gryffindor halves in us…”
”I had suspected”, the other man mutters. ”Well… do try to remember what House you did get Sorted into in the end, won’t you?”
”Yes, Sir”, Harry smiles.
”Good. Now, get to bed. Do you still have enough Dreamless Sleep left?”
”Yeah, I have one dose left”, Harry nods, standing up.
”Good. I’ll brew some more this weekend for your dose next week. Good night, Harry…”
”Good night, Sir.”