"Mother will say if they can visit."
"They can visit." Harry scowled at his brother as they stepped off the train.
Draco pointed his nose at the train ceiling, and let Harry see that he'd done none too good at a job at cleaning out his nostrils that morning. "I know that my friends won't insult anyone. You can't say the same about Weasley."
"Ron wouldn't have said anything if you hadn't insulted his rat!"
"Rat is a misleading term. Dust rag would be more accurate."
Harry opened his mouth to retort, and Ron pushed past them hard enough to make it clear that he'd heard. His ears were bright red, and Scabbers was clinging to his shoulder and squeaking in alarm. Harry gave Draco a dirty look and ran after Ron, catching up with him just as he was getting off the train.
"Not right now, okay, mate?" Ron turned his head away from him.
Harry sighed. He knew Ron wasn't really upset about Scabbers. It was the reminder that he was poor, and even if Harry had turned out to be Henry Malfoy instead of Harry Potter, he'd just gone from one rich family to another. And Draco could say volumes about wealth with a look.
"All right. Write to me when you can, okay? I want both you and Hermione to come over this summer."
Ron glanced at him, then nodded. "We'll see," he said, just before he saw his parents and ran towards them. Ginny tagged after him with a blush for Harry. Harry was glad that she at least seemed less shy and withdrawn than she had at the beginning of the year.
He shook his head as he watched Gilderoy Lockhart step off the train. It was kind of a pity that something terrible hadn't happened to him the way it had to Professor Quirrell, but Lockhart had announced that he wouldn't be coming back for a second year as the Defense professor because he had "fans to please and books to write." So there was that.
"Henry!"
Harry turned around more quickly at the sound of that name than he had at the beginning of the winter term, and saw Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy waving at him from the end of the platform. He started towards them, Hedwig flying out the train door ahead of him. She was just as happy not to be spending the summer in a cage.
Mother and Father, Harry reminded himself as he leaned close and let Mrs. Malfoy hug him. I should think of them as Mother and Father when I'm around them.
It was still difficult, though. Especially if what Draco had said in their argument was true. From the way he was standing with his nose still in the air and his cheeks flushed a smug pink, he'd already told the Malfoys—Mother and Father—about it, and expected to get his way.
"Henry darling," Mrs. Malfoy said, gently putting her arm around his shoulders, "Draco told me that you'd like to invite some children from Slytherin over to the house during the summer and thought they might not be welcome. Of course they will be. I wanted to reassure you about that."
"They're not from Slytherin," Harry said, and tried to ignore the feeling of alarm that flashed through him when he saw how Mr. Malfoy's face changed. But he persisted, because being afraid of his own family wasn't going to help him achieve anything that he wanted. "They're Ron and Hermione. Maybe Neville. They're all from Gryffindor."
"The Ron boy is Arthur Weasley's youngest son?" Mr. Malfoy asked.
Harry threw him a defiant glance, remembering the way that Mr. Malfoy—his father—and Mr. Weasley had fought in the bookshop last summer. "Yes, he is. My best friend."
"And Hermione is Granger," Draco butted in, his face flushing with more than temper from the look of it. "From no distinguished family."
"I really hoped that the next word out of your mouth isn't about to be Mudblood, Draco," Harry hissed, softly enough that most of the people passing by them on the platform wouldn't hear.
"Draco. What have I told you about that word?"
Mrs. Malfoy sounded gentle, but that tone held steel underneath. Harry knew that tone. It was the kind that she had used to tell Harry that he would be going to a Mind-Healer this summer. He sneered at Draco from behind his mother's back when Draco caught his eye.
"That I shouldn't say it in public."
"Well, don't," Harry snapped, although he felt a jolt of pain that apparently, Mrs. Malfoy hadn't just forbidden Draco from saying that word altogether. "And Neville is Neville Longbottom. I like them. They're my friends. If Draco can have his friends over, I don't see why I shouldn't be able to—"
"Of course, of course." Mr. Malfoy made a little patting motion on the air. "No one has said that you can't."
"Draco said you would say I can't!"
"They're Gryffindors."
"So what?"
....
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