Draco made a huffing noise. "Devon was well and good for a week or two during term, Severus, but I'm not sure what we're going to do there for the whole holiday."
"Your summer homework, perhaps?"
"I did start mine already, you know," said Draco, a little snootily. "Harry hasn't done a thing."
"Oh yeah, and I've had nothing at all to do--" Harry suddenly laughed. "You know what's funny? When I lived with the Dursleys I longed to do my holiday assignments. Would have meant reading about magic, see. But um, no, I haven't managed to get to any of it yet. Not this summer."
Draco returned to his previous line of thought. "So I'll do my homework, Severus. And then what? Make daisy chains?"
Snape sighed. "Perhaps we can go to London a time or two to take in an opera or a play, Draco. Will that do?"
"I suppose it will have to."
"You can come along when I go visit Dudley," added Harry, doing his best to make it sound like he was doing Draco a giant favour. "We can all go out for pizza. Have you ever had . . . hmm, that might not be so good for Dudley's diet, I guess."
"Ah yes, the diet. I wonder if your cousin's any less spherical."
As comments from Draco went, that one wasn't nearly as cutting as it could be, Harry thought. "I think Devon for the rest of the summer will be brilliant. We can go explore the beach, and maybe we can find a pool where I can have those swimming lessons. And we can hike through the countryside--"
"How uncultured can you be? Hikes, honestly. Talk about Mugglish entertainment."
"And what are operas and plays, you prat? By Muggles, for Muggles." Harry decided that smug was a pretty good feeling, really. "And you like them. You practically worship them. So don't talk to me about Mugglish."
Draco pretended to brush some lint from his sleeve. "Your ignorance is really quite something, Harry. Don't you know that half those actors and singers are wizards and witches just passing as Muggles?" He smirked. "And half the stuff on stage is dross. So you do the maths. I like the wizard half."
Harry really didn't think it was true that half of all performers were wizards in disguise, but he could hardly argue the point, considering he did know that it happened sometimes. Remus had been one such wizard, after all, working years in the West End, developing his acting skills so someday they could be put to good use against the enemies of the Light.
Instead of arguing, Harry shrugged, and said he was going to figure out what to pack for Devon.
It was nice, knowing that this summer, he could just bring what he wanted, and leave the rest of his things at home.
Home.
His home.
Harry kind of hugged the word to himself as he began sorting through the things Snape had bought him.
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Snape had arranged it with the headmaster that while they were in Devon, they'd still all get their mail. A redirecting spell was sending the owls away from the cottage and to Hogwarts. From there, Dobby was putting their post in a crate. When Severus opened a matching crate in Devon, the letters appeared within.
Harry'd got several letters from Ron and Hermione, though they hadn't been able to come visit yet. Draco didn't get any mail at all the first two weeks, but then a letter came from Gringotts, the heavy paper and embossed seal on it unmistakable. Harry wasn't going to ask about it. None of his business, even if he was responsible for the fact that Draco had a balance there again. An extremely healthy balance, Harry knew. Draco didn't exactly spend money like it was going out of style, but nobody in their right mind would ever call him frugal, either. Even before they'd left Hogwarts he'd begun owl-ordering things like mad, and he'd insisted Severus take him to Hogsmeade so he could have a proper seamstress determine his measurements. After that, new clothes had begun appearing, though not since they'd left the castle.
Of course, for all Harry knew, deliveries were still arriving there and Dobby just wasn't sending them on.
Well, at least none of Draco's new clothes had had gemstone buttons. Draco knew well enough that their father wouldn't stand for it.
Harry was somewhat surprised to see Snape retrieving the Daily Prophet from the crate, since he knew his father had no respect for the publication. When asked, the Potions Master had replied that they'd do well to keep up events in the wizarding world since they were currently rather removed from it.
While Harry didn't take the advice and read the paper, his brother certainly did. One morning as he perused the financial section, Draco nearly choked on his tea.
"Bloody typical!" Draco growled as soon as he'd read the article through. "How can anyone take this drivel seriously, I'd like to know!"
"What is it?" asked Severus in a weary voice. He probably recognised that outraged tone of voice, same as Harry did. Whatever had Draco upset was bound to be something his father and brother found pretty frivolous.
"Walpurgis, that's what," spat Draco. "It's not enough he has to go all tricky and deprive me of my rightful inheritance--"
"Rightful?" scoffed Harry. All his good intentions about leaving the subject of Narcissa alone sailed straight out the window. "What was rightful about it? Your mother killed the man hoping you'd inherit!"
"We don't know that," said Draco, though of course he'd been the one to suggest it in the first place. "All we know is that the goblins decided there'd been foul play. Which was hardly enough to deprive me of my due, but now that mouldy old baby-swapper is getting good press from beyond the grave for it." He slapped the paper with the back of his hand, the motion oddly reminding Harry of those old movies that had men slapping each other with gloves in order to challenge each other to a duel.
"May I?" Severus calmly scanned the unfolded paper. "Ah. I see."
Harry just waited.
"It seems the Wizarding Home for Displaced and Orphaned Juvenile Squibs has just announced their receipt of a very generous posthumous endowment from Walpurgis Black's assets. The Prophet is terming him an outstanding philanthropist, too modest to call attention to his generosity during life."
"A home, I tell you!" shouted Draco, clearly incensed. "A home! My money, gone to a home for squibs!"
"Displaced?" Harry directed the question to his father.
"Abandoned, I suspect they mean."
Harry frowned. His own family hadn't been the soul of kindness, but most people were decent, weren't they? And squibs were just a part of wizarding life. Magic might run in families, but it occasionally skipped over individuals. Everyone knew that. "They shouldn't be abandoned," he murmured, then almost flinched, since he could just hear Draco begin a rant on the subject. Oh, yes they should, Potter. They're squibs!
Draco though, was nodding in vigorous agreement. "Quite right. It's a disgrace, through and through. Proper wizarding culture is absolutely clear on the matter of squibs. I mean, that's part of the reason my family was so upset by Walpurgis' nasty little business schemes in the first place--"
"I thought it was because he was switching Muggleborns into pureblood families, and then if these children ever married they'd be polluting perfect pure precious blood lines," Harry said dryly. "Not out of any concern for the squibs switched out."
Draco shrugged. "That was part of it. But the other half was that family squibs are supposed to be taken care of by the family itself."
Harry did flinch, then. "Murdered, you mean?"
"Oh for Merlin's sake!" shouted Draco, clearly incensed. "No, I don't mean murdered! Are you daft?"
Harry glared. "You said squibs were! Killed, I mean. You even said that pureblood parents wanted a way to tell if their newborn babies were squibs, because infanticide was so much easier than waiting for years to see if a child ends up able to channel any magic!"