Since Draco knew exactly how Harry felt about reporters, that suggestion really didn't help his mood. "You're the one who likes talking to the press. Or lying to them, that is--"
"I was strategising, I'll have you know, and considering what I knew at the time, I thought I was doing the right thing, putting you in your place."
Harry bit his lip to keep from blurting something nasty in reply. Actually, by then he was sorry he'd just called Draco a liar. Of course, Draco had been just that, but he'd been all through this with Marsha. More than once. Good judgment comes from experience, she liked to say. But experience only comes from having used a lot of bad judgment.
Constantly reminding people of their mistakes just wasn't very helpful. Harry had known that before he'd ever discussed it with Marsha, but sometimes Draco made him so angry that Harry talked first and thought later. Draco's superior attitude was just so grating.
But it was less extreme than it used to be. Draco had proven that he could change. Though this idea of it being so noble to hide squib children was really disgusting. "Yes, let's go see this home," said Harry. "Maybe you'll find out that the little squibs are better off there than with families who can't stand them. I mean, if you ask me, Walpurgis wasn't doing such a bad thing switching babies around. I'd have loved to be switched into a wizarding home where I'd've been normal."
"You have been," said Snape dryly. "And you always were normal."
Harry smiled, just a little.
Draco sighed. "What am I supposed to say to you, Harry? I'm sorry your Muggle relatives were slimier than flobberworm pus, all right? Really, I am. But your unfortunate childhood aside, wizard parents have no business foisting their own, even squibs, off onto strangers. I can hardly believe the Ministry allows this sort of thing."
Harry's smile died. "I bet they think it might be this or murder. I mean, in some families."
"It's not unheard of, no," said Snape.
"The home isn't far," said Draco in a wheedling voice. "The paper said Exeter, Severus. That's safe enough, isn't it? Especially considering how you got confirmation that the Dark Lord already had his bone marrow extraction. Too bad he didn't die, but it doesn't sound like he's been feeling too well, does it?" Draco chortled. "Of course, he's a half-blood so I bet he's sicked up plenty of times before, but I personally found it very heartening to hear he's doing quite a lot of it these days."
"I'm a half-blood!"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" erupted Draco. "I wasn't even using the term in a negative way, and you jump all over me. Like usual! Are you going to take offence if I say that someone with Muggle heritage probably walked somewhere and didn't Apparate?"
"I just don't much like your obsession with bloodlines."
"I'm far, far from obsessed. In fact, I told you that I knew blood wasn't everything. I did! I said that you were such a brilliant wizard that it couldn't possibly be! And you fucking well didn't listen to a word I said, did you? You don't like me at all!"
"I love you and you know it!"
"Yeah, but you don't like me. You think I don't know it? Severus doesn't even like me that much!"
"I can speak for myself," said Snape, standing up to tower over Draco. Not to intimidate him, though. He stepped close enough to put both his hands on the boy's shoulders, but then seemed to change his mind and pull him up from his chair, instead. As Snape drew Draco into a close embrace, and began speaking very quietly against his ear, Harry figured that this was a private moment and he'd better make a quiet exit.
Later--much later--when Draco came into their dark bedroom, Harry cleared his throat to get the other boy's attention.
"Oh, you're still up?" Draco's voice sounded off, Harry thought. Like he'd just been through a lot. "I'll just be a moment."
"You can spell the lights on, if you like--"
"No, no, I can manage."
Harry thought then that Draco might have been crying a little, and didn't want Harry to realise.
"I do like you," Harry said, hoping he didn't bollix this up. He'd rehearsed it in his head while he'd waited and waited. "There's loads of things I like about you. You're smart and you say the funniest things sometimes, and you're loyal and I know I can depend on you, and we have great fun together, don't we? I mean, when we're not fighting. It's just . . . I'd like to like you more, Draco. And I could, if you'd start to just see people instead of blood all the time."
Draco sighed in the darkness. "Look, you don't understand. I can't help it. And anyway, half the time it's just a way to identify people. Sometimes when I say that Muggleborn boy in Herbology class, I could just as easily call him that tall boy with black hair. I don't mean anything by it."
Harry thought that over. "Sometimes you do mean something."
"And sometimes I stop your bushy-haired friend at the door and tell her to her face that she's clever, too. There, see? I didn't call her a Muggleborn, that time."
Actually, Draco had, there at the end, but Harry just nodded. Then he realised that Draco couldn't see him. "I liked that. I mean, I liked you when you did that. A lot. I was really proud of you."
"Well, I personally think that Serpensortia was my best moment . . ."
Fishing for compliments, now? Harry decided that Draco must need to hear them. "I was proud of you then, too. Really proud. I wanted to hug you, but you had all those bites and--"
"Didn't stop Severus," said Draco, sounding better by then. "So, guess what he said about Exeter."
"Hmm. That he has to go with us?"
"You know him pretty well." Harry heard the noise of clothing rustling. "It's a bit daft, really. Nobody'll be looking for us in Exeter, for Merlin's sake. And if anything unpleasant happens, we are both competent to Apparate, now. We'd just make our way back here, and nobody could follow. Guess what Severus said to that, though."
That one was harder. "Um, something about how we're not actually licensed yet?"
"Close. Actually, he said . . ." Draco's voice dropped an octave. "I do believe you're only legally allowed to Apparate when accompanied by someone with a license."
Harry could just see it. "Bet he crossed his arms, and stood in that way he does, you know, how he can seem a lot taller than he really is?"
"Yeah, but he cut it out when I accused him of cheating on Marsha."
"What?"
"Well, he said he'd go with us to Exeter, but once he saw us safely to the home for squibs, he would pursue other business, as he put it. So, of course I said he must have a lady-friend, and what would Marsha think about that, and he did his usual, don't you know--"
"Threatened lines."
"Yeah, and then he said that he was actually going to look about for a pool where you could learn to swim."
Harry grinned. "I can't wait. It'll be brilliant. When are we going?"
"Tomorrow, sounds like. But he said that when we get back you have to work on your spell lexicon and I have to start reading some books he's owling for in the morning."
"Books?"
"Aristotle, I think. He was a wizard, you know."
No, Harry hadn't known. He wasn't sure he believed it, either. But Draco obviously needed to. God forbid he should have to read a book written by a Muggle. "Why Aristotle?"
"No idea." Draco yawned. "Well, I think I'll have a shower before bed."
"No singing," said Harry, rolling over. "I'm beat."
"My lovely voice will lull you right to sleep, I promise."
But it didn't, because Draco didn't sing. Just as Harry had asked.
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Coming Soon in A Summer Like None Other: "A Pub and a Pool"