Whelp

'Nothing happened,' the boy insisted. 'Nothing!'

Draco moaned and turned over in his sleep, and Harry's eyes widened, as he darted a look at the other boy. A split second later, a blue-white nimbus flared around Harry then faded slowly.

A moment later, the boy looked completely panicked. 'I'm sorry!' he gasped and waved his hand as if swatting a fly. A smaller, less bright light appeared, and vanished more quickly. 'No Silencing, you said, sir. I'm sorry!'

'Harry.' Startled by the obviously intentional bit of magic, Severus leaned forward with a frown, which deepened when Harry shied away, shoulders hunched and head down as if expecting a blow. Severus put up his own Silencio, so they wouldn't be overheard. 'Easy now. I think we've had another misunderstanding.'

'We have?' A peek through his fringe gave him a tiny glimpse of green eyes.

'We have,' Severus said, then went on very slowly, and firmly, 'Because what I meant by you not performing that spell was that I don't want you do any Silencing when you are upset or in pain. I don't want it used when you're trying not to disturb me when you wake from nightmares or get hurt or scared, because I want to help you. Do you see how those situations are different from this one?'

Harry darted another look at young Malfoy before nodding once.

'Please explain to me how it is different, Harry.'

'I . . . er, I'm not in pain right now, sir?'

'Yes, and?'

'And I'm not upset from a nightmare?'

Snape's lips quirked in an almost smile. 'Yes. And what else?'

'And I wasn't disturbing you?'

'Exactly.' He cocked his head a bit and gave Harry a piercing look. 'But you didn't want to disturb Draco from his sleep with our conversation; that was very thoughtful. Did you put the spell up on purpose, or was it an accident?'

Harry looked away. 'I can't do magic on purpose, Father. I tried before, at Spinner's End, and nothing happened. I'm sorry.'

Severus shook his head and asked Harry to look at him, waiting until the boy met his gaze again. 'I believe you can do magic, Harry. I believe you just did.' When Harry's worried eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to disagree, Severus went on relentlessly, 'Tell me, did you think about what you were doing when you put up a Silencing spell just now? Or did it just happen, out of your control? And when you canceled the spell again, thinking I was angry about it, did you know what you were doing, or did that just happen, too?'

'I . . . er . . .' A sudden smile lit up the boy's face. 'I did do it on purpose!'

'Yes.'

'Then I can be your son!'

'Of course you can,' Severus said with a puzzled frown. 'You are my son.'

'But not if I didn't have magic, Father. Draco says people without magic are Muggles and they aren't allowed at Hogwarts.'

'Well, that's true, but it would have nothing to do with whether you were my son or not.'

'It wouldn't?'

'No, Harry. I told you earlier, you're my son no matter what you do, or don't do. You're not going away, and neither am I.'

The boy took a long, relieved sounding breath, before he gave Severus a tiny, sly-looking grin. 'Draco said there's no such thing as telly, too.'

'Did he now?' Severus returned the boy's smile. He had no idea what telly was, but knew it existed at least; some Muggle picture contraption, he thought. 'I guess that means Draco doesn't know everything. You'd be wise to keep that in mind, should any other adventurous ideas come up in your scheming together.'

'Yes, Father,' Harry said, his smile turning rueful, and leaned back against his pillows.

'Get some rest now. We'll talk more tomorrow,' Severus told him, and pressed a kiss to his brow and was pleased no end when Harry didn't flinch.

---

After breakfast, which Harry ate from a tray, in bed, Madam Pomfrey let him leave the infirmary with Father and Draco. They'd gotten to eat in the dungeons, together, and Harry had felt left out, so he was feeling what Father called, 'snappish' as they entered their quarters, and scowled a little when Father wouldn't let them go to his room and play, but told them to 'stay put on the settee' instead.

Harry groused a little more when he saw that Draco could sit so his feet almost touched the floor, but Harry's ankles barely came past the edge of the upholstered cushion. He hated being the smallest all the time.

Father sat in his leather armchair across from them. His brows were drawn down as he stared over hands knitted together near his chin. Harry's irritation disappeared, and he felt a hollow pit open in his stomach. He and Draco were in serious trouble.

Draco was sitting perfectly still, hands folded in his lap. Harry copied him, and tried to keep his gaze on Father's face, and not on his shoes.