"Ah, too true." There was a clink of glass, sounding like two vials lightly knocking into one another.
"Did you offer me nerve restorative only to taunt me, then?"
"No." Snape paused for what seemed like a long moment, to Harry. "I did it to make another point, Lupin. I did it to say, to attempt to say . . . that I stand corrected. You are doing as fine a job as anyone could ask."
But that doesn't make sense, not when he infuriated Voldemort, just last night!
Remus made a noise that sounded like a strangled gasp. "You can say that, after what I did?"
"Ah, but I know why you did it." A rustle of robes. "Your thoughts were most unguarded, Lupin. A weakness you can ill-afford when you leave these walls. Watch yourself. And . . . be well."
Harry might have fallen over from shock, if he hadn't been holding himself so stiffly as he tried to remain absolutely silent.
Remus softly laughed, but the noise was bitter and hollow. "Oh, the irony, Severus. To have gained your good opinion only at the expense of my own."
"Don't be so maudlin. It serves no purpose, especially in this case. Your conscience can be clear. You know it can."
"You're planning to tell Harry," Remus accused. "That's your game."
"Your present company has made you less trusting, which is all to the good, I suppose. But if you think I regard my son as a rope to be tugged between us, then you don't know me at all."
"Will you tell him?"
"No, but Harry's not a child, Lupin. In many ways, he never has been. He would understand. I think you should tell him."
"How can I?" Remus sounded like he was cracking in half. "I'm all he has left of James. I mean . . . I know he has you, Severus, and that he loves you, and James doesn't matter any longer, but--"
"Don't talk like the fool I've always thought you," said Snape in a low, dangerous voice. "Of course James matters to him."
"Then all the more reason. I can't tell him. I can't possibly."
Another rustle of robes, as if Snape had moved closer to Remus. "And that, I understand. All too well. Watch yourself, as I said. And for his sake, do be well."
Sensing that the conversation was over, Harry quickly ducked into another room, dashing out of sight and hiding until first Snape, and then Lupin, walked all the way down the hallway. Then, he slipped out and headed towards the loo so that he could be seen emerging from it.
Barely able to contain his curiosity, which of course had to wait, Harry headed towards Draco as soon as he made it back to the kitchen. He stopped short of reaching him, however, so shocked was he to see Draco in earnest conversation with Molly Weasley.
". . . and when my . . . when Lucius died, you were the only one apart from Harry and Severus who was worried about me, instead of just being delighted that he was dead, and, and . . ."
"That's all right, dear," said Mrs Weasley, patting his shoulder like she would a small child's, even though Draco was taller than she was. "I think I know what you mean."
"You probably do." Draco grimaced. "And I know condolences can't mean much, but I still wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."
Mrs Weasley's voice lilted. "Oh. I didn't realize that you knew Percy that well."
Another grimace. "I didn't, actually, but I do remember how kind you've been to Harry and me both, this last year, and . . . well, I'm sorry you're feeling the . . . the way you must feel. If that makes sense?"
"Oh, it makes perfect sense. It hasn't been long since you were the one grieving."
It was news to Harry if Draco had done very much of that, but he didn't contradict Mrs Weasley. Of course, maybe he was thinking about Pansy. He had grieved for her, Harry knew.
"If you'll excuse me, Draco, I think I'll just pop around and top up everyone's tea--"
"Of course, ma'am."
Harry waited a moment, then stepped forward. He wasn't sure what to say. That was nice of you wasn't probably such a good idea. Then again, Harry had more important things on his mind. "Let's go see the tapestry room."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "The tapestry room? I've been all through this house and I never once saw any such thing."
"Oh, well Dad and Remus got rid of the tapestry last October, since it was full of Dark Arts," explained Harry as he headed towards the room where it had been. "But it used to hang in here." He pointed at one of the walls.
"And now this is just a nondescript room. You're a scintillating guide, Harry, but I don't think I need one in my own house."
"Prat." Harry closed the door and warded the room, something Snape really should have done. "Listen, something really strange is going on."
"I noticed that, yes." Draco rolled his eyes. "Cruciatus is so frequently used in celebrations, after all."
"Right. And Dad knows the truth."
"I thought as much from the way he was trying to manoeuvre me. Dumbledore knows too, obviously. So . . . he told Dad, I suppose? What do you think Remus Lupin has done?"
"Eh, well I think Dad figured it out using Legilimency, actually. But whatever it was that Remus did, it was enough to infuriate Voldemort."
"Not necessarily. I do happen to know that he throws Cruciatus around when he's merely annoyed. He curses people for taking to long to arrive to a meeting, for example." Draco shrugged. "Crabbe's dad gets it all the time. Or used to, at least. I wouldn't know about lately."
"Well, I don't think Remus was punished just for being late," said Harry. "Because I just overheard him talking with Dad. Whatever Remus did to anger Voldemort, it was something Snape was practically congratulating him for. And not sarcastically, either. He really meant it. But why would Dad want Remus on Voldemort's bad side?"
"I don't know, but if he is, it could be bad for my mother," said Draco in a tight voice. "She may be out of Britain, but she's still caught in the thicket Lucius wove around her."
Harry bit his lip. "Um . . . been meaning to ask for a while, but . . . is your mother Marked?"
"What the hell kind of a stupid question is that? Is she Marked? No, of course she's not Marked, Harry! Lucius would definitely have risen to the Inner Circle with an unmarked wife, after all. It would make him so trustworthy, and--"
"All right, so she's Marked," said Harry, sighing.
"See, you have a functioning brain, after all!"
"I'm not sure my ward will work for screaming," said Harry levelly.
"I happen to be shouting." Draco ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, fuck it. I shouldn't yell at you, even if you do ask the most moronic questions ever uttered. It's just . . . all this cloak-and-dagger rubbish is getting on my nerves."
"You can handle it. You're a Slytherin."
"And now you've descended to moronic statements, as well. Well, I've learned something, Harry. Being a Slytherin doesn't help, not when it's your own mother in danger. Not to mention . . . well, I won't mention her, wards or no wards. But I will go and find Remus Lupin and ask him if he's heard from my mother. And once we're home, you and I will get the truth out of Severus."
"Good plan--"
"Excuse me, then." Draco was through the door and headed back to the main part of the house before Harry could say another word.
Harry felt like the rest of his time at Number Twelve was a strain. He wanted to talk to his father but he had to wait. He wanted to talk to Remus but didn't dare, not with so many people around. He ended up chatting for a while with Charlie, who wanted to reminisce about Percy. Understandable, but Harry didn't feel like he had much to contribute. You weren't supposed to speak ill of the dead, after all. Particularly not to grieving family members.
"You must have some good stories, though," said Charlie, after he'd finished telling Harry how Percy used to make checklists every summer. Checklists of what he needed to do every day. And what Ginny needed to do. And Ron. Apparently he'd given up on making a checklist for the twins after they'd charmed his quill to squirt ink in his eye every time they completed a task he'd set them. "You were with him at school for a few years."