"I didn't say it was right," said Draco scathingly. "It's not even intelligent, really. The Furies have a way of getting you back for killing off blood kin, squibs or no. But some families just can't bear the humiliation, and they panic the minute it's clear that a child has no magic. Listen, a big reason why Walpurgis' switching scheme was so frowned upon in my family was because he'd developed those charms that could detect squibs early on. Which would lead to more murders in some families. Not mine, though. I hope that's fucking well clear, now."
"Language, Draco."
Draco gave Snape an irritated glance, but then he nodded.
"So what would your family have done if you'd had a squib brother or sister, then?" asked Harry, honestly curious. He really had just assumed that the Malfoys would kill off any squib relatives. Without a second thought, even.
Draco lifted his shoulders. "Well, you don't want to be seen with them, so they're not in company much. You lodge them in an upstairs suite facing away from the heavily used areas of the grounds, and assign a couple of house-elves to wait on them hand and foot. They're cared for in grand style. I mean, you sort of try to make it up to them, in other ways, so they don't feel so bad about missing out on their magical heritage."
Harry was aghast. "You stick them in a back room and just leave them there?"
"Don't be dramatic, Harry. They're allowed out sometimes. You know, to attend important family functions like weddings and such."
Harry glanced at his father, who merely nodded. In confirmation, it looked, not necessarily approval, but Harry still felt like he'd been stepped on or something. "Sounds a bit like they're shoved in a cupboard," he said, surprised at how rough his voice came out. "And speaking as someone who was shoved into one for having magic, I can tell you that it pretty much stinks to treat a person the same way for not having any."
Draco ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. "They're cosseted and coddled, Potter. It's not the same thing at all. Nobody starves them or anything. And squibs usually like to keep to themselves, anyway. They're ashamed to have no magic--"
"I bet they like to keep to themselves because it's so bloody obvious they aren't wanted!" Harry narrowed his eyes. "It's like Goyle deciding he was stupid just because everyone treated him like he was!"
Snape's own voice was mild. "I don't believe this is a matter you two will agree on. Perhaps it's best to accept that."
Draco nodded, but Harry was too far gone to just give it up. "So if you have a son someday and he's a squib, you're going to treat him like this?"
"Well, I'm certainly not going to farm my own flesh and blood out to a home for squibs," retorted Draco, waving the letter.
"Maybe they're better off there," said Harry heatedly. Suddenly the orphanage didn't sound so horrible, after all. "Yeah, better a group home than staying with families that try to hide them. Maybe they're loved there! Maybe someone cares about them enough to let them see the light of day!"
"Maybe we should just have a look for ourselves," said Draco, his own tones as cool as Harry's had been hot. "Since it is, after all, my money that's funding this shameful enterprise. I think I'd like to see how it's being spent."
"It is not your money," said Snape. "It never was, is that clear? It was Walpurgis' fortune and never intended for you until your mother manipulated the old man and then murdered him."
Draco twisted a lip. "As I said, there's no actual proof she did any such thing. And you might remember that when I accused her of that, I was a bit annoyed with her for siding with Lucius against me."
"Oh, come on! You know she did it, Draco--"
"How do I know that? Was I there? Maybe Lucius got wind that Walpurgis might help me and he killed him, eh? Ever think of that?"
"Yeah, well we know the goblins thought it was awfully fishy, and no offence, but everybody knows what a bitch Narcissa Malfoy can be--"
"You shut up about my mother!" shouted Draco, his pale skin flushing. "You think yours was so perfect? Want to hear some Death Eater gossip? I could tell you things that'd make you never want to get that mirror working--"
"Gentlemen," interrupted Snape. "That's enough. There's nothing to be gained from a conversation like this." He levelled a stern look at Harry, who flushed. He knew that Draco loved his mother deeply. No matter that Narcissa Malfoy was one twisted witch.
"Sorry," Harry muttered.
"You should be!"
"Draco!" barked Snape.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll say sorry, too," grumbled the other boy as he turned his face away.
Harry noticed that Draco didn't actually say he was sorry. With Snape still looking grim, though, it was probably best not to push it.
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Dinner that night was a little tense, with none of them saying very much. Well, Draco did say that he thought that Harry ought to be rebuked for his language, and then Harry said that he hadn't been so much swearing as just telling the truth, which was better than spreading vicious rumours, and then Draco had started icily discussing a wide variety of very nasty hexes they didn't teach at Hogwarts.
At which point, Snape had threatened lines for both of them. They ate most of the meal in absolute silence after that, but by the time Harry served the bread pudding he'd made earlier, they were talking a bit. Snape had seen to that, mentioning what a good season the Montrose Magpies were having, and saying it was probably mostly to do with their new Chaser being so talented. Harry thought that wasn't true at all, and Draco agreed, and only after the two of them were talking their father out of being a Magpie admirer did Harry realise that Snape wasn't one. At all.
"Sneaky," he said.
"Sneaky snarky scheming Slytherin?"
Harry stared at his father. "What?"
"A private amusement," said Snape, his lips twitching. "Draco, tell me how Harry's doing with Apparition lessons."
Harry made a face. "If I see that stupid hoop one more time--"
"He's ready for something a good deal more challenging," interrupted Draco. "Harry can already make it all the way across your property without any trouble at all."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you still having him use a hoop?"
"Uh . . . 'cause it annoyed him so much?"
"Prat--"
Draco threw him a superior look. "Well, I did also think it helped with your confidence. But I suppose we can do without it, now. So . . . not to raise a delicate issue, but how about letting us have a look at this home for squibs, Severus? I really would like to see how my . . . er, how the money is being used. Whether you like it or not, I feel like I've endowed the place against my will." His voice went snooty. Again. "Besides, I have a small image problem, as you know. MLE would prefer a certain type for Auror, right? And it looks like I don't fit it--"
"You don't fit it," said Harry bluntly. "You heard Tonks. You have to be able to investigate a crime without prejudice."
"Oh, yes, like Tonks was so magnificently free from all prejudice. It's not like she thought a person's name could make them the murderer, or--"
"So you see the problem, then."
Draco's nostrils flared. "Well, if Severus will let us visit this home, you'll see for yourself how amazingly kind I can be to abandoned squib children. And you can tell all your Auror friends all about it. Or better yet, give interviews to some sympathetic reporter . . ."