"Clyde? Unlike me, he's actually had all week to do his homework," Harry said, not bothering to look up from his Astronomy text book either.
"So what's your excuse, Hermione?" asked Natalie, who did look up and rather slyly at that.
"I don't much care for Quidditch," she replied and made it an actual point to not look up.
"Then why were you at the Gryffindor-Slytherin game if you don't like Quidditch?" the blonde witch inquired. At this Draco glanced surreptitiously up at her.
"Harry asked me, of course."
"Really?" This time, Natalie's curious gaze turned to Harry. It felt strangely accusatory, though Harry couldn't fathom why she be imply he'd done something devious.
"She wouldn't have come otherwise," he explained defensively, "I was sworn to secrecy, and couldn't tell her beforehand. I figured she'd be mad at me afterwards if I didn't ask her to come see for herself."
"How in the name of Merlin did you get on the team in the first place?" Ron blurted out, as it was clearly something that had bothered him for a while now. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit smug with his answer.
"Punishment," he said.
"Punishment?" asked the three Slytherins. Hermione, who had learned of it all from the twins and then from Harry directly, shared an amused look with her troublesome friend.
"Yes. I was forced to play Quidditch," Harry explained, "As punishment for disobeying the professor during flying lessons."
Ron had gone completely white.
"B-b-but... I had to scrub out cauldrons! Why aren't I playing Quidditch?"
Harry thought it perfectly obvious, but the boy looked so disturbed that he didn't have the heart to be bluntly honest about the matter.
"Well, I suppose the Head of our Houses chooses punishments that best help the school, and preferably their own houses. Professor Snape must have felt their was a greater need for clean cauldrons than for a new Slytherin Seeker."
"Amen to that," said Draco, "Father took me to a Gryffindor-Slytherin match last year. Gryffindor got creamed. I was almost embarrassed to watch. But still... Quidditch as punishment?"
"Were you watching the match out there? I thought I was going to die. Your team is evil."
Draco's looked backed to his book. None of his Slytherin friends, or Ron, had questioned him about the events of his disappearance, more out of lack of opportunity than anything else. The other three houses had been pretty protective of him, and he had not been alone with a Slytherin since his return. So Harry was unsurprised when the Malfoy heir used the conversational opening to ask in the most disinterested tone the matter that was most definitely of interest to him.
"Yes, well, you would know. I heard aWhitehall and Morgenson have been suspended because of their involvement in your disappearance. I trust they didn't rough you up too badly?"
"I don't know. I was confunded, remember?" was Harry's automatic reply.
A look of annoyance passed over Draco's face briefly, but it quickly turned neutral again. Ron who was slightly appeased by Harry's earlier response, had returned to sulking over his essay. Natalie didn't bother hiding her skepticism, her brow arched elegantly at him.
"Surely, you remember something," she asked.
"Nothing I haven't told half the reporters in Britain at least twenty times. I don't know why everyone keeps asking me. WYRA probably knows more about what happened than I do. Ask Snape about it, he probably knows quite a bit. I wish everyone would just shut up about the matter and leave me alone."
The opportunity for interrogation having passed, Draco slid easily onto other subjects. This time it was a matter so non sequitur , it threw off both Harry and Hermione.
"Father wished me to invite you to our family Christmas Party."
"What?!"
Madam Pince, Hogwart's rather strict librarian, sent a warning glare from the check out desk..
Amazingly, it was the adopted Malfoy and not the invited who had shouted out in surprise. Her expression was so horrified, Harry couldn't help but wonder if Malfoy Christmas parties were a code word for 'apocalypse'. Draco rolled his eyes.
"You can't be that surprised?" he said, "After all, he's on good terms with the Dark Lord, and appeared in the papers on two separate occasions. And he isn't even twelve yet."
"Draco Narsissio Malfoy, my friends are not father's toys! I won't have him playing his deranged political games with him!"
Draco ignored his sister's outburst, turning a conspiratory look towards Harry and grinning wickedly. "If Father invites you for a private talk, run. He'll probably try to arrange a betrothal between you and Hermione... or me. Which ever he thinks will most appeal to you."
Harry just blinked stupidly at him, unsure if he was joking or not, while Hermione sputtered and blushed.
"Oh, and of course, you two are invited as well," Draco said, waving dismissively at his companions.
"Jeepers," Natalie said sarcastically, "Thanks for remembering us non-celebutantes."
"Yes, well, one must acknowledge the little people from time to time."
"Brother!"
Madam Pince slammed down one of her ancient books.
"WILL YOU ALL BE QUIET?! THIS IS A LIBRARY NOT A GOSSIP HALL!"
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
That afternoon found Harry descending the stairs to the lower dungeons. He had two potions he was expected to brew, and according to Clyde they were lengthy. He'd need at least, three hours to finish them, and he couldn't have been happier.
"Potter," Snape growled, taking in the boy's dusty, cobweb ridden clothes with irritation. "I know this is a Saturday, but a little effort towards your appearance is still warranted."
Harry blushed, pausing a moment to pat some of the dust off. He only succeeded in making himself sneeze, and making Snape look even more irritated.
"Sorry, Professor. Some reporters tried to corner me outside the library and I had to duck into a secret passage."
The dour potion's master said nothing to that, and merely swished his wand at him. Instantly, the dust and cobwebs disappeared and his robe look freshly laundered and pressed.
"Thanks," Harry offered reluctantly.
"Don't bother. Cobwebs are a potent potion's ingredient and I don't want to spend all day here because they keep falling into your work," he sneered, pointing towards the only work station with a burner already set up.
"Well, then thanks for nothing," Harry muttered and stomped over his station. Skimming over the directions on the board, he filled his cauldron a third of the way full with water and set it to boil, then went to gather his ingredients. As he was sorting through the various containers, Snape settle behind his desk with stack of essays in front of him, but favored watching the boy like a hawk over his grading.
"Are you finished with your essay on aging botanicals and their affects on Sleeping Draughts, yet?" the man queried, looking like he already suspected the answer as unsatisfactory.
"Almost," Harry responded. "Speaking of which, your wormwood is starting to mold."
"That's for sixth year potions. Fresh wood is just to the left. I suppose my Goddaughter warned you about that?"
Harry left the storage closet, and returned to his work station, separating each ingredient in the order he would have to add them to the cauldron.
"No, why?"
"You're only the third or fourth Gryffindor to notice. And exactly how complete is 'almost'. I expect it by Monday, along with the essay on Pepper-up."
"I just need to write the conclusion and revise it. I'd be done by now, but Hermione got us kicked out of the library for yelling." Looking over the directions again, the young Gryffindor began pulling the seeds out of the milkweed pods and separating them from the down. It was a bit tricky, as a lapse in concentration would cause the feathery material to fly into the air and drift dangerously close to his cauldron.
"Hermione? Yell in a library? I imagine Draco was involved in some capacity," the dark man said, mostly to himself.
"Well, yes. And Malfoy Sr. too, I suppose. I've been invited to their Christmas party. Draco says his father's going to suggest a betrothal, but I think he was just playing."
The older man snorted.
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