Title: Punished (4)
Author: Constant Vigilance
Status: Fin
Email: tirel@pcnuthut.com

Website: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Spoilers: AU. Characters are entering 6^th year.
Warnings: Slash
Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR is God.
Summary: Petunia reflects and converses.
Notes: Implied het.

(Petunia’s POV)

 

I feel like Cinderella.

 

A week ago my whole world was a tiny two-story home in a middle class neighborhood. I was married to a middle class man. We had a son who loved his mother and adored his father. The only oddity was my nephew, and even that was a familiar oddity. I woke each morning, worked each day, and retired to my bed every evening. Every day was the same. Every thing was the same.

 

Today? A wizard boy is escorting me to a wizard town to purchase wizard clothes using strange money offered by a man who practices magic for a living. I…would live be too presumptuous?…I live in a mansion with more rooms than I can count. I am waited on hand and foot by strange magical creatures. My nephew lies bloody and broken in a bed upstairs and my son sits by his bedside as to make up for 15 years of hate and pain.

 

Yes, all of this is strange. But the strangest thing snuck up on me last night as I sat with Severus having tea. I think I might be feeling a bit more for him than thankful. He is not a beautiful man, but he is striking. He is not full of good cheer for humanity, but he is kind. When he talks to me, I know he understands what I mean to say. When I speak, I know he listens. I feel…comfortable with him. In a way I haven’t felt since Lily was small.

 

And that frightens me.

 

And that excites me.

 

And I have no idea what to do about it.

__________________________________________________________________________

 

Draco Malfoy, though young, is truly an old world gentleman. He could make the Queen feel boorish. He is obviously of good breeding and a high social class. A single glance at his clothing told me that. Yet, he treats me as though I were a lady of great stature. He offers his arm, he opens doors, and he even settled my shawl around my shoulders when we left the manor. He didn’t laugh at me when I yelped in fear at my first glimpse of a goblin. He made no comment as I gawked like a common servant at the amount of golden coins piled up on the ground in Severus’ vault. He smiled gently as he firmly ignored my squawkings of “It’s too much! Put some back!”

 

He wrapped my hand around his arm and walked regally through the streets of that wizarding town. He led me to a small clothier and ordered the clerk to outfit me in robes, cloaks, shoes, underthings and muggle clothing as well. He then took a seat in front of the window and patiently waited whilst I tried on clothing and tried to figure out just what in the world was going on.

 

Afterwards, he carried my purchases on one arm and offered his other to me again. I noticed as people made way for him on the sidewalks and wondered at the slight looks of fear on their faces. I couldn’t imagine how this young, gracious boy could frighten anyone. I made a note to ask Severus. Or perhaps Harry if he ever wished to speak to me again.

 

Or if I ever plucked up enough courage to be spoken to.

 

Draco led me to a small bistro and engaged the maitre d’ in rapid fire French of which I caught perhaps three words. The gentleman bowed to us and led us to a tiny table in the front of the restaurant, close to both the huge fireplace and the French paned windows.

 

I must have looked like an uncultured sloth, trying not to gawk at our surroundings, but Draco waited patiently for the maitre d’ to seat me before taking his own seat and then he smiled at me.

 

“Mrs. Dursley,” he tilted his head, “would you allow me to order for the two of us?”

 

I couldn’t make any kind of a noise save a squeak and so I had to content myself with a nod. He smiled brightly and turned to the sommelier that had appeared at our table. Once again, Draco shot off several phrases in French, far too fast for me to follow. The sommelier smiled widely and bowed and then we were alone. Small talk about our shopping and suggestions for Dudley’s shopping trip the following day filled up the silences.

 

The sommelier came and went and as soon as I tasted the wine he left, I knew that there was no way I could have afforded even a glass had I been here on my own. And Draco had gestured for the man to leave the whole bottle behind! Our waiter arrived and Draco ordered for us both. I knew enough to realize we were to be eating things I’d only read about in fashion magazines.

 

If I hadn’t been so afraid of making a spectacle, I would have rubbed my sweating hands on my skirt. As it was I surreptitiously picked up my napkin and placed it a bit further out of arms reach. I knew as soon as Draco smirked that he knew my real reason. I smiled thinly.

 

“I’m so sorry, Draco,” I whispered. “I’ve felt so out of place these last two days.”

 

He shook his head, the sun glinting off of his hair and turning it to molten gold. “Please, Mrs. Dursley,” he smiled, “Think nothing of it. You’ve been through a great culture shock coming from the muggle world into the wizarding one. I should have given that more thought and taken you somewhere to eat in which you would feel more comfortable. Would you care to choose?”

 

“No, no,” I rushed to stop him as he half rose from his seat. “Please, this…this is fine.” I glanced nervously about the room. “I…I’ll manage. Just…” I lowered my voice and leaned forward a bit. “Just please stop me if I do something horridly low class?”

 

He chuckled; a purring rasp that made me wonder how many young girls had lost their hearts to him. “I assure you, Mrs. Dursley, I will not allow you to embarrass yourself.” He shrugged and his smile turned rather wane. “But you could probably strip naked and toss escargot in my mouth from a chandelier and people would consider it a new trend, fashionably set by a Malfoy.”

 

I knew I was looking silly again, gaping at him like that. Dear Lord. Was he that rich and influential? “I see,” was all I could manage.

 

Silence reigned for long moments and then Draco took a long swallow of wine. “So,” he said, placing the glass back on the table, “Dudley is to be tested for wizardry.”

 

“Yes. Severus, I think, wanted to have me out from underfoot. That’s why you’ve been given Petunia-sitting duty,” I smiled wryly.

 

Draco grinned. “Yes, our Severus is rather a lone wolf when it comes to his work. He’s become accustomed to me in his laboratory, but it took nearly three years of constant nagging at me for every little thing before he let me do anything on my own.”

 

“He is a perfectionist then?” I questioned, and then wondered if that was too forward a thing to ask.

 

“I think the correct word would be anally retentive,” Draco smirked. I covered my mouth with my hand, hoping the giggles wouldn’t escape.

 

“Yes, well,” I managed to recover, “I’ll feel much better all the same for sending Dudley to Hogwarts knowing that Severus is there.”

 

“Are you going to miss him terribly?” He began swirling the wine in his glass, not really meeting my eyes.

 

“Of course.” I frowned a bit. “I’m sure your mother misses you as well.”

 

He snorted. The sound drew a glance or two from the surrounding tables, however as soon as they saw Draco, their eyes shot back to their own tablemates. “I doubt very seriously that my mother has even noticed I’ve been gone for the last six years. We do not have a…loving relationship.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” I breathed, wanting strangely to give this coldly beautiful and aloof boy a hug.

 

Draco shrugged. “I am the heir. Mother provided me for my father, thus entitling her to certain luxuries and benefits. One of those benefits was that she didn’t have to raise me.” His lips quirked up a bit. “I had an army of nannies and house elves for that. Another perk was that, other than public appearances and holiday get-togethers, she is not required to see, hear, speak to or think of me. She spends most of her time on the French coast.”

 

His gaze rose and he stared across my shoulder to the street behind me. “She has a villa there. And a lover.” He frowned and shrugged. “Or maybe the lover is in the Italian villa. Whatever.” He shrugged again.

 

“Wh-what about your father?” I could only whisper.

 

Another snort, only no one turned to look this time. “My father is not as determined to wipe the knowledge of my existence out of his head,” Draco acknowledged. “However, that is only because he still requires me. He has yet to teach me of the Malfoy legacy and how to govern our assets. In addition, he has a vested interest in introducing me to one of his…friends.” He closed his eyes briefly, but I saw the pain flash through them all the same.

 

“His friend?” I ventured carefully.

 

Draco opened his eyes and stared straight down into my soul. “Yes. You might have heard of him. He killed your sister and her husband. Very nearly killed Harry. Tries to finish the job off nearly every year.”

 

I couldn’t force words out from around the lump in my throat. “A-and you’re going to work for him?” Draco glanced about the room and, following his gaze, I noticed the oppressive silence and the motionlessness of the nearby diners as though the scrape of a fork could muffle Draco's next words.

 

He smiled thinly. “Mrs. Dursley, this is rather an awkward place to have that particular discussion. Perhaps we could continue it at a later time?” I nodded, rather intimidated by the knowledge that everyone in earshot had attempted to overhear our conversation. “Until then,” he continued, “Tell me about yourself. What do you do?”

 

“I’m a house wife,” I said quietly, not really wanting to be listened to any longer by the other customers.

 

Draco frowned slightly. “Doesn’t that mean you perform housekeeping duties that a house elf would normally do?”

 

I blushed, having figured out that house elf equaled servant in the short time I’d been at Snape Manor. “Yes,” I replied, mortified to realize I was flushing in embarrassment. “We don’t exactly have house elves in the muggle world.”

 

We were briefly interrupted by our waiter serving us. As soon as he left, Draco gestured to me to begin eating. “What else do you do?” he asked after his first bite.

 

My hand shook and so I deliberately took a bite for fear I would fling the sauce on my blouse. “Nothing.”

 

He frowned again. “Have you no hobbies?”

 

I hesitated to answer, but Draco actually put his fork down to focus his attention strictly on me. I sighed. “Vernon didn’t like me to have hobbies. He said it distracted from my duties at home.”

 

The frown turned angry. It took me a moment to realize that the anger was on my behalf. How odd that this young boy be offended for me when I couldn’t even manage to be offended for myself. “Well, what do you like to do?” he cocked his head to the side.

 

“I-“ was as far as I got before I was interrupted.

 

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t little Draco Malfoy!” A large woman with an outlandish pink flower in her hair and a huge scarf at her neck stood looming over us. Draco schooled his face from the impassioned anger it held a moment ago into a cold mask.

 

“Good afternoon, Madam Goyle,” he said with a cool smile.

 

“Whatever are you doing out and about in Diagon Alley, young Malfoy?” She tittered loudly, eyeing me as though I were a particularly nasty sort of fungus.

 

“Having lunch, as no doubt you are doing as well,” Draco inclined his head politely.

 

The large woman pursed her lips. “And who is your friend?” Ah, it seemed she had given up on subtlety.

 

“Mrs. Goyle,” Draco sighed, leaning back in his chair, “You are aware that if you arrange your hair on the right side of your neck that your brooch should adorn your left side. And my goodness, I do hope you choose to exchange that scarf. It makes you look quite sallow.”

 

I gaped as did most of the surrounding tables, I noticed. Mrs. Goyle looked as though she might hyperventilate. She drew herself up and flounced away immediately. I couldn’t resist a snicker.

 

Draco rolled his eyes and went back to his food. “The woman is a horrible gossip. Give her a bone and she’ll run away with the whole skeleton. And her husband works with my father.” He sighed. “I’m sure by the end of the day, he’ll hear about me having lunch with an unidentified woman.”

 

I was a bit nervous. If Draco Malfoy were this intimidating, what was the elder generation like? “Will he be angry?” I ventured.

 

Draco smiled gently. “No, not after I ‘explain myself’. However, you might be a bit angry if I tell you what I will have to use as an excuse.” The raising of his eyebrows was enough to convince me. I flushed again.

 

“I don’t want to know, thank you anyway,” I stated primly.

 

He grinned.

“So, how did you meet my nephew?” I changed the subject to something simpler. Draco's left eye twitched and he began swirling the bite of meat on his fork around in the sauce left on his plate. Perhaps it wasn’t simpler at all?

 

“Potter and I met first in Madam Malkin’s. It’s another clothier,” he clarified at my confusion. “We were both in there to be fitted for robes for our first year at Hogwarts. We…didn’t hit it off,” the pained smile on his face said more than his words.

 

“You’d wanted to be his friend?” I guessed. He nodded and placed the bite of food in his mouth. After thoroughly chewing, he swallowed and continued.

 

“He seemed…so different from the children I’d grown up with,” he said quietly. “He was so small, so shy, so scared and at the same time he was so full of life. He was dressed in shabby clothes that I wouldn’t give to a house elf.”

 

His wry smirk shamed me. I was the one who placed those clothes on Harry’s back. I was the one who sent him off to meet his destiny looking like a beggar boy.

 

“I tried to strike up a conversation with him,” Draco began swirling the next piece of food about his plate. “Unfortunately, the only manners I knew were learned at my father’s side.”

 

“What was wrong with that?” I questioned softly, forgetting to eat myself.

 

“All I knew how to be was aristocratic,” he explained, a slight flush building in his cheeks. “I threw my name around. I dropped hints that I was more in the know about how Hogwarts worked. I insulted the lower class heathen I saw outside the window.”

 

“And?” I nudged him a bit, verbally, as he seemed to stall out and stare at his fork.

 

He shrugged. “And Harry didn’t…doesn’t…care about the Malfoy name. Or my fortune. Or what my father can do to him or for him. He knew nothing about Hogwarts and so he might have been interested in that had I not begun insulting the first friend he’d ever had.”

 

“The ‘heathen’ outside the window?” I cocked my head, guessing again.

 

Another nod. “His friend Hagrid who saved him from his horrible relatives, brought him the knowledge of wizardry and who had just bought him the first present and pet he’d ever had.” Draco looked a bit regretful about the first part and I waved off his silent apology.

 

“It’s all right, dear,” I smiled sadly. “We were horrible to him. I know that and I regretted it every day of his life.” I glanced up at him and saw the strangest look on his face. Startlement, confusion, a bit of wariness and a tinge of pleasure. “What is it?” I asked worriedly.

 

“You called me dear,” he nearly whispered.

 

I flushed. “I’m sorry,” I quickly apologized, panicked that I’d offended him. I offered an excuse. “It’s a mother’s habit to call all children her own child’s age by an endearment. All mothers do it.” He shook his head.

 

“No,” he replied faintly. “Not all mothers do it. Some mothers don’t even offer endearments to their own children.” I tried to think of something to say. The thought that this sweet boy had gone through 16 years of life hearing no pet names, no loving expressions nearly broke my heart. But before I could speak, he continued our conversation.

 

“After that, the next time I met Potter was on the train to Hogwarts. He’d sat with Ron Weasley.” The sneer on his face made it clear his thoughts on that particular boy. “Weasley laughed at my name and so I insulted him.” He looked a bit sad. “That was the end of second chances for Draco Malfoy in Harry Potter’s eyes. I’d insulted his first two friends and he was sure I was the world’s biggest arse. He refused my hand in friendship and that began a feud that has lasted six years.”

 

He fell silent again.

 

I hadn’t the heart to press for more questions. We finished our meal and he paid for it before leading me back out onto the streets of the wizarding town. I assumed that we would be returning to the manor but it appeared that I was mistaken as he led me to a grassy, wooded park. Families and couples dotted the grass, lying on blankets and laughing, or snuggling, or sleeping.

 

We walked a few yards in and he bade me to take a seat on one of the park benches strategically placed along the grass. He sat beside me and for long moments, we sat in silence again. He lifted cloudy grey eyes to mine and then he spoke.

 

“Mrs. Dursley, you asked about the man my father works for. The man who killed your sister and is still trying to kill Harry Potter.” I nodded and his gaze dropped. “I can tell you in all honesty that I will never work for him,” he said softly. “I cannot. I believe in some of his ideals, mind you, but certainly not in his methods. He is hypocritical, arrogant and blind when it comes to Potter. He is determined to wipe your nephew from the face of the earth if he has to sacrifice every last one of his servants to do so.”

 

“And you have no wish to be a sacrifice,” I nodded understandingly, and then frowned when he shook his head.

 

“That is not my reason for defying him, madam.”

 

“What is your reason, then?”

 

He hesitated, eyes flitting back and forth, never stopping to rest on my own. “Because I…I regret the circumstances that led your nephew and I to our present situation.” I waited patiently as he searched for the words to explain to me the pain I saw written on his face. “I never wanted Harry dead,” he finally continued. “I wanted him to suffer like I’d suffered. I wanted him to feel what I felt. I wanted him to pay for humiliating me, for…for hurting me with his refusal of friendship. But I never wanted him dead.”

 

Draco took a deep breath and shook his corn silk hair out from his eyes. “Eventually, I didn’t even want him to suffer anymore.” He smiled slightly. “I rather enjoyed our verbal sparring. In a strange way, it allowed me a part of him that he wouldn’t share with his precious Weasley and the Know It All. He would never speak to them that way. He would never become so angry, so alive with them. That was reserved for me. Only me. And I liked that. I needed that.”

 

The fervor behind his words made me shiver. There was a passion in his voice that bespoke of deeper feelings, hidden feelings. I’d only heard it once before. From a young man who made a point of cornering me at his own wedding to promise that he would love my sister for eternity. That he would give his life for her. That he knew I didn’t like him, but he hoped that he wouldn’t become a thorn between my and Lily’s relationship…because she loved me as much as he loved her.

 

How sadly poetic the next time I heard such passion that it should be directed towards Lily’s son. I dragged myself back to the present and focused on this silver haired angel in pain.

 

“He became somewhat of an obsession for me,” Draco was saying. “I had to push him. I told myself I wanted to see when he would break, but I really don’t believe that anymore.”

“What do you believe?” I asked gently.

 

“I believe…” his voice nearly cracked. “I believe that Harry Potter, his safety, his well being…his happiness…matters to me.”

 

“And that upsets you?” I coaxed him.

 

He gave a sound that was half laugh and half sob. “It tears me apart, Mrs. Dursley,” he whispered.

 

“Why, love?” I couldn’t stop myself from reaching over to take his hand in mine. When he didn’t pull away, I wrapped my fingers around his own cold ones.

 

“Because I know that Harry…that my…I know that I will never matter to him in the same way.” He dropped his chin to stare at our linked hands. I felt a drop land on my hand and knew that this proud boy had given me the ultimate gift.

 

He had shown me the Draco who lived inside the Malfoy.

___________________________________________________________

 

We sat for a short time longer before Draco pulled himself back together and suggested that we return to the manor house. I took advantage of the necessity to hold on during apparition to give him a brief hug. The only sign he gave acknowledging my action was a slight bit of pressure as he leaned back into me. And then we were back. He made sure that the house elves got the packages to the correct rooms before informing me that he was going to take a brief nap.

 

I nodded and again offered my thanks and watched him head morosely up to his quarters, wishing that I dared just take him in my arms and hug him until his pain went away. I don’t know what I was thinking. I couldn’t even manage to do that with my own nephew and here I was making plans to butt into another person’s life.

 

Speaking of my own nephew, I knew that I had put off our confrontation long enough. I cut a large slice of the cake I’d baked the day before and retrieved a tall glass of cold milk from the house elves. I then slowly made my way up to the room that Severus had placed Harry in.

 

With my heart in my throat, I pushed the door open. My Dudley looked up from his seat next to the bed. He frowned, as though he couldn’t understand why I was there.

 

“Hello, Dudders,” I said quietly. “How is he?”

 

“He’s improving,” Dudley shot a glance at his cousin. “He’s not completely well, but he’s out of the danger zone now.”

 

I nodded and continued moving to Harry’s side. I set the cake and milk on the bedside table and turned to look at my son. “Would it be possible for me to spend a bit of time with him, do you think?” I asked.

 

It nearly broke my heart when Dudley gave me a distrustful look. “I won’t hurt him,” I whispered, clutching at my own fingers. “I swear to you, Dudley. I won’t upset him.” Though my heart hurt from my son’s wary gaze, I was buoyed by his obvious protectiveness. My son had found his hope.

 

He nodded shortly and moved to the door. He cast one final look my direction before shutting the door silently behind him. I took his place in the chair by Harry’s bed and took the opportunity to just look at my nephew for the first time since he was an infant.

 

Asleep, I saw more of James in him. He had the same messy hair, the same natural tanned skin, and the same large ears. But I could also see Lily. She was there in his bone structure, in the pointedness of his nose. She was there in his full lips and I knew she was there in his blindingly green eyes. But, as I continued to search, I also saw things that were entirely Harry.

 

He already had worry lines on his forehead. There was a slight pinched look to those full lips that bespoke of a pain beyond his years. I noted small scars leading into his scalp. I knew that they were lifelong reminders of the hatred Vernon heaped upon him. I had never wanted to cry more in my life than I did now, looking down at this fragile boy who had so much resting on his shoulders.

 

Giving into impulse, much as I had with Draco, I reached out and brushed a wayward lock of hair out of his face. His eyelids fluttered briefly and then opened, treating me to those green, green eyes. I smiled. “Hello.”

 

He attempted to sit up, but after a particularly fierce wince, lay back down. He looked back up at me and lost me completely in confusion when he smiled back at me. “Hi,” he rasped.

 

“Would you like some water?” I asked. He nodded and I reached over to the end table to fill the waiting glass. I helped him drink a few sips and then set the glass back on the stand. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

 

He shook his head. “How long?” His voice sounded a bit less raspy.

 

“Only a few days,” I assured him.

 

He nodded and shifted, again with a wince, to get more comfortable. When he was settled, he glanced back up at me and smiled again. “I’m glad you came with the Professor,” he whisper-spoke. “I was worried about leaving you and Dudley back there alone with him.”

 

I winced.

 

“Harry…I…I’m…”

 

He reached out and laid his warm hand on my cooler one. “It’s okay, Aunt Petunia. He’s the one who hurt me, not you.”

 

I felt those tears welling up again. “Are you entirely sure about that, Harry?” I shook my head. “Because I’m not. In my eyes, I hurt you just as badly as Vernon. I never hit you. But, I never stopped Vernon from hitting you. I never screamed profanities at you. But then, I never really bothered to talk to you at all, did I?”

 

“Aunt Petunia…” he squeezed my hand and looked at me with those Lily-green eyes brimming in forgiveness and understanding.

 

“No,” I interrupted. “I will not fall into apathy again, Harry,” I said firmly. “I neglected you. I emotionally abused you in a manner far worse than Vernon’s fists. Bruises will fade. Bones will mend. But I betrayed the trust of a child placed in my care. The child of my beloved sister. I should have loved you wit all that I loved her, Harry. I should have been and done so many things that I did not…and for that, I am truly sorry.”

 

The tears had made their way to my cheeks now and Harry reached up to wipe them away. The love in his eyes…I didn’t deserve it, but oh, dear Lord, how I craved it. “It will be different now,” I vowed. “Perhaps it’s too little, too late, but I swear to you that things will be different. I will be different.”

 

“Not too different, I hope,” Harry’s soft voice was a balm to my heart. “I don’t want you to sacrifice who you are to be who you think I want you to be.”

 

I shook my head. “No, Harry. It’s who I want to be. Who I need to be. And Dudley, too. He’s…he’s like an entirely different person.”

 

“Is he all right?” Harry asked worriedly.

 

“Oh, yes. He’s just fine,” I reassured him. “Severus believes that he is actually gifted with magic as well! Not as much as you, of course, but enough that Severus thinks he should be trained in it. Severus has been working with him the past couple of days. He says Dudley is doing quite well.” The pride in my voice couldn’t be mistaken. I hoped that Harry would not take offense at my eagerness for Dudley to be magical when I’d thrown such a fit at Harry’s magical emergence.

 

Harry smirked, but not because he was offended. “Severus does, does he?” I couldn’t stop the flush from filling my cheeks. Harry squeezed my hand. “It’s all right, Aunt Petunia. He’s…he’s unique.” It looked as though Harry were sucking on a lemon. “It takes a special kind of person to see beyond his mask. It really doesn’t surprise me that you managed it.”

 

I smiled softly and looked down at my hands. After a moment a shrewd thought came to mind. I knew it must have been echoed on my face because Harry asked a wary, “What?”

“It’s not only Severus that wears a mask, Harry,” I opened up the conversation.

 

“Who else?” Harry asked carefully. “Me? I don’t wear a mask,” he seemed so sure.

 

I knew that the snort I gave was quite unladylike. “Harry, love, you have a wardrobe full of masks. You, however, were not the young man of whom I was speaking.”

 

Harry frowned. “Dudley?”

 

I gave another snort. “Dudley has had no reason to wear a mask. Everything he’s ever done, his parents have supported whole-heartedly…no matter how ignorant.”

 

“Then who?” Harry asked in frustration.

 

I sighed. Dear oblivious Harry. “Draco Malfoy.” Harry’s jaw dropped and I smiled softly. “He’s not the monster you believe, Harry. He’s just as lost as you. He is just as alone as you. I shudder to think where that boy would be today if he hadn’t had Severus there for him.”

 

Harry nearly choked and I sighed again. “I know you dislike Severus. And I know that you dislike Draco—“

 

He mumbled something I couldn’t quite catch. “What was that, dear?”

 

“I don’t dislike Draco,” he repeated rather sullenly. “I don’t even dislike Snape. I know how much he’s given up for the cause. How much of himself that he’s lost. I don’t hate him. I don’t particularly like him. He’s been nothing but a mean, vindictive bastard to me. But I respect him, even for that.”

 

I gave a squeeze to his hand. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, Harry. But you’re avoiding the original subject.”

 

Harry flushed. “Draco.”

 

I nodded. “If you don’t dislike him, how do you explain your antipathy towards him?”

 

“He’s…he’s just such a git!” Harry burst out. I raised an eyebrow and Harry sighed. “He’s mean spirited. He says things to deliberately hurt my friends and me. He’s following in his father’s footsteps towards Death Eaterdom.”

 

“He’s not,” I couldn’t help but interrupt.

 

“What?”

 

I should have bitten my tongue. But I couldn’t. They needed a swift kick to get them started. “He’s not going to become a Death Eater.”

 

“How the hell do you know?”

 

I frowned. “Language, Harry.”

I was rather surprised when he flushed and ducked his head. “Sorry.”

 

“I know because he told me,” I continued.

 

“He told you.” His tone was that of sheer disbelief.

 

“Yes,” I nodded. We had a long talk over lunch at a lovely little bistro in London.”

 

“You had lunch with Draco Malfoy.” More incredulity.

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you talked.”

 

“Yes.”

“Civilly?”

 

I smiled slightly. “Of course. He’s quite the cultured gentleman.”

 

“He’s quite something all right,” Harry muttered.

 

“Harry,” I said disapprovingly.

 

He sighed. “Sorry. I just can’t imagine Draco Malfoy going to lunch with Harry Potter’s muggle aunt.”

 

“Well, he did. And he was quite polite. And we did talk. And I found out some very interesting things.”

 

“Like what?” His interest seemed piqued.

 

“That, you’ll have to ask him yourself, Harry Potter.”

 

“But he won’t talk to me!” He whined.

 

“He talked to me.”

 

“You’re not Harry Potter.” The sullenness was back. I felt my heart hurt again.

 

“No one else could fill his shoes, though. Could they, love?”

 

Harry winced.

 

“I think Draco knows that. I think Draco resents that,” I whispered. “I also think Draco would have it no other way.”

 

Harry frowned. “I don’t understand.”

 

I smiled sadly. “Neither does he, love. Neither does he.”