"Oh, innocent of all of it, was he?" Draco's lips twisted. "I told you, didn't I, that word gets around? That excuse for a cousin used to beat you up and laugh about it!"
Harry spat his gum out into the wrapper and dropped it in the wastepaper basket next to the sofa. "Yeah, he did. But that was before the Dementor attack--"
"You should have let them have him."
"That's a terrible thing to say."
"What about him, still mocking your parents even now, calling your father an unemployed drunk to your face tonight? He's no different from his parents!"
"Yes, he is," said Harry firmly. "Maybe not before, but he is, now. Dudley didn't know that James Potter wasn't everything he'd heard before. He couldn't have known."
"Please," scathed Draco. "Even I knew."
"Draco, you're being quite irrational," said Marsha, who had sat quietly for the last few minutes, apparently content to let Harry and Draco work things out. "You were in a position to know the basic facts about Harry's birth father. Even before Harry survived the Killing Curse as an infant, the Potter family was known and respected. Dudley had no access to any of this information, so of course he believed what his family told him on the matter."
"Still doesn't make him a pleasant person," muttered Draco, turning his face away.
Marsha made him turn back, using nothing but the power of her gentle voice. "You're intelligent enough to know that a single remark, said in innocence, wasn't the real reason you became annoyed with Dudley, tonight. There were other factors at work, I'm sure. The question is, can you identify them, Draco?"
Harry had a sudden thought. "Oh! You didn't like me offering him money, is that it, Draco? You thought that really made him family?"
"Harry," chided Marsha. "It's really not as helpful if you identify Draco's issues for him. You know that."
Harry did; Marsha always made them work out things for themselves.
Draco made a derisive noise. "Oh, you can shower your gold wherever you want, Harry. I don't care. And I knew already that you considered him family. He doesn't deserve it, that's all."
Neither did Draco, if what Harry judged by was behaviour from years earlier. Remembering what Marsha had just said, though, Harry didn't point that out. "Then why were you so much nicer to him, before today?"
"You know why! You didn't trust me and I was trying to change that!"
Defensive, thought Harry, sure there was something else going on. He didn't know what, though. "Yeah, I understand that. But that doesn't explain why you were nice to him two weeks ago, you know."
"A lot can change in two weeks," said Draco, still sounding awfully defensive.
"What has changed, then, Draco?" prompted Marsha. "Think about it, please."
It looked like it took Draco a moment to frame his thoughts. "Um . . . hmm. I guess . . ." He suddenly sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Two weeks ago I thought they were all the same. You know? I didn't like the way Dudley used to treat Harry, but I figured all Muggles were like that and he couldn't really help it."
"And now?" asked Marsha, her voice still thrumming with kindness.
Draco gave a wry smile. "We haven't talked since I found out Rhiannon was a Muggle, or you wouldn't need to ask." He turned to Harry. "They're not all like your family was, Harry, but I didn't know that until just a few days ago. And . . . and . . . don't you see? That just makes the Dursleys a lot worse, as far as I'm concerned. What they did . . . it wasn't because all Muggles detest magic. It was because they were terrible people, Dudley right along with them. You deserved better than that."
Oh, God. Draco had been trying to defend him, then. From abuse and insults buried in the past, from things that couldn't possibly be changed now. Maybe sheer frustration with that very fact explained why he'd been rude beyond belief.
Harry smiled, too, just as wryly. "What am I supposed to say, thanks? I guess your heart was in the right place . . . but your head was still stuck up your arse, Draco. It doesn't help now to blame Dudley for things that happened when he was a different person, when he was a child. He believed what he was taught." Harry took a deep breath. "Er . . . just like you did, you know."
Draco's eyes glittered almost silver for an instant. "Sometimes, I have a hard time believing you've forgiven me, too."
"Then you ought to be glad to see me forgiving Dudley. It proves I can."
"It proves . . ." Draco's throat muscles convulsed. "Harry, all it proves is that you ought to be angry with us both."
"Don't worry, I was. But I got over it." Harry picked up his pillow-thing again, and gave Draco a very gentle tap across both his legs. "About time you did, too."
Draco gave a stiff nod and met Harry's gaze for only a moment. Then, he turned his face away, his profile looking chiselled from stone.
Hmm . . . probably best not to say what he was thinking, Harry decided. Strange how things turned out, though. Once, Harry would have thought that Draco and Dudley had nothing in common except their dislike of snakes. Now, he could see that the two were similar in much more profound ways. Both taught to hate what was different, growing up. Both finding their own way out of that, and in the same manner, too. Through soul-shattering fear. Dudley, with the Dementors, and Draco, by learning that his original course could only lead to slavery or death.
"Harry, perhaps you could let me finish the hour with Draco, alone," said Marsha calmly.
"Sure." Harry got up, giving Draco one last smile. "Sorry about the painters comment."
Draco gave a strangled laugh, and didn't reply.
Snape wasn't in the waiting room when Harry went out, but he came in just a few minutes later. "Everything all right?"
"Yeah." Harry didn't think it was right for him to say much more than that about why Draco had been so antagonistic towards Dudley. If Draco wanted his father to know about it, he could bring it up for himself. "Um, Draco's just finishing up. How was the pint?"
"I didn't have one. I took a long walk, instead."
"Maybe we can all go for one afterwards."
"You think you and your brother deserve a reward after the appalling evening I've had?"
Harry felt bad, then. Not that he'd done so very much to ruin the evening, compared to Draco, but he could have figured out sooner why Draco had such a bee up his arse. Or, perhaps he couldn't have. The whole thing was slightly twisted. What had looked like increased contempt for Muggles had turned out to be the exact opposite. No . . . nobody could have fathomed that one on their own.
"Maybe you could reward us for talking it out," Harry said. "We did, you know. We're fine, now."
Snape gave him a close look, and then shrugged. "Very well. I passed by a pub, not far from here. We can go there, assuming you can bear the fumes I saw billowing out the door. They don't bother me, of course."
Fumes? Oh, he probably meant smoke. Harry smiled, then picked up a magazine to read while they waited for Draco.
------------------------------------------------------
A polite knock announced Hermione's arrival on Thursday afternoon.
Harry was the first to the door. "We don't get a lot of visitors, you know," he said, grinning. "And you are expected."
"I still thought I ought to knock."
Draco glanced up from the table where he and Severus had a book open sideways so both of them could see it as they scratched out notes on parchment. "Hallo, Hermione."
"Hallo. Good afternoon, Professor Snape." Hermione came closer, no doubt lured by the book. "Ethics? Really?"
"A new required course for all seventh-year students, Miss Granger."
"Do you know yet who will be teaching it, sir?"