"Mr. Malfoy, if I might have a moment of your time."
Snape's voice was as stiff as it always was around Harry. Harry reckoned that he couldn't have expected any differently. He nodded and turned around. Ron and Hermione tensed on either side of him, but Harry waved them off. "Would you tell Professor Sprout that I'm going to be late to Herbology?"
Hermione nodded, her eyes on fire as she looked at Snape. She had been more protective of Harry ever since he had discovered who he was and Snape had still refused to call him anything but "Potter" in the last Potions classes before the Christmas holiday.
Not that Harry had much minded that at the time, honestly. He still felt more like a Potter than a Malfoy.
When they were alone at the top of the staircase that led to the dungeons, the same place that Harry had seen Snape standing the other day, Snape cleared his throat, but said nothing. Harry waited almost a full minute, then asked, "Sir?"
And Snape said something so surprising that Harry was glad he wasn't nearer the stairs, or he would have fallen down them. "I must beg your pardon."
"What?" Harry gaped at him, and then snapped his mouth shut. In the back of his mind, he could hear Mrs. Malfoy chiding away about his lack of manners. Of course, a second later part of him wished he'd kept it open.
Snape didn't notice his rudeness. He was looking at Harry with eyes that Harry didn't think saw anything about him at all. "I had misconceptions," Snape breathed. "I thought you the son of an arrogant bully. James Potter made my life a hell when I was a Slytherin student. You had inherited that from him, I thought." He took a breath like a dragon about to light a whole wildfire. "I was wrong about you."
Because being the son of a Death Eater is so much better? Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had been careful to tell him about Mr. Malfoy being under Imperius during the first war, but Harry knew when he was being fed a line of complete bollocks. However, he doubted that Snape wanted to hear about that. He probably already knew, anyway. Mr. Malfoy had been a Slytherin, and had hinted that he knew Snape.
Harry just nodded. "I—that's all right, sir. Everyone thought I was James Potter's son."
"I should have known. You're nothing like him."
Harry started to bristle automatically, and then remembered that he was doing it in defense of his kidnappers. One of them, anyway. He calmed down in confusion, and Snape went on talking, this time with eyes that did seem to see Harry.
"You have a grace about you that comes from your mother." For some reason, Snape swallowed then, a choking, clicking sound. Harry stared at him. Was Snape in love with Mrs. Malfoy? Harry did not want to hear about that. "And what I thought of as arrogance was self-protection."
Harry's worries switched towards what Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy might have said about him to Snape. "I, well, thanks, but I should be getting along to Herbology," he gabbled, taking a long step backwards.
"I wished you to know," Snape said in a low, passionate voice that Harry thought would probably haunt his nightmares, "that I made an Unbreakable Vow to protect Lily Potter's son. But I would never have done it if I had thought the Potters capable of kidnapping a child."
Harry blinked at him. "Why did you do it in the first place, sir?"
"Ah, Harry, Severus! I had hoped I would find you together. I wanted to speak to you both."
Harry smiled at Headmaster Dumbledore as he walked out of the Great Hall, but Snape twitched. He looked as if he had wanted to go on speaking to Harry in private. Well, Harry was thinking that it was probably a good thing they'd been interrupted. Snape wanted to say weird things, and was probably going to go on to do weird things in a minute.
"Could you come to my office?" the Headmaster asked, his eyes shining, and Harry was glad to see that he looked happier than he had right after he found out Harry was a Malfoy. No one had known about that except Sirius Black and his pa—the Potters, so it wasn't fair for Headmaster Dumbledore to blame himself.
"Henry."
Harry blinked and turned to look at Professor Snape. Headmaster Dumbledore only smiled a little. "What was that, Severus?"
"Henry," said Professor Snape strongly, his head up and his eyes pinning Harry so fiercely that he squirmed a little. "I received the letter from his family as I'm sure you did, Headmaster. In the rare circumstances when we might need to address the younger Mr. Malfoy by his first name, his parents have said he'll be going by Henry."
The sheer wrongness of hearing Snape stick up for him made Harry say hastily, "That's the compromise we came up with, sir. I really didn't like Aldebaran. But my friends still call me Harry."
"And I hope we will always be friends, Harry." The Headmaster stretched out his arm, his robe sweeping from it, making a motion of invitation. "Now, will you come with me?"
Professor Snape's eyes had cooled a little by the time he turned to look at Harry. Harry shrugged, although he felt stung by it for reasons he didn't want to name.
He wasn't Harry Potter, but he was Harry still, and being a Malfoy, let alone Henry, would have to take time.