Whelp

'We've discussed this before. I imagine we'll keep doing so until you feel more secure in your role. But where else would the boy go if you pushed him away?'

It was only one of the questions that plagued Severus right now. Another was, 'Tell me, how do I keep from hurting him? I can not seem to keep from scaring him whenever I raise my voice. And I am not accustomed to being civil all the time.'

Albus smiled benignly. 'I wouldn't expect you to be. But I say again, you are Harry's only hope for safety.'

'Albus, I--'

'I have not finished. Although you are the only one who can ward him from Voldemort's followers,' Severus twitched at the casualness of Albus throwing out that name, 'you are by no means solely responsible for taking care of him. You are not alone, my dear boy. I have taken the liberty of assigning two more House-elves to your quarters, to assist Nelli, and I have invited someone to come here who I believe can offer you some advice on parenting. They will be here tomorrow, to check in, and we will set up a good time for them to come and stay for a week or two.'

'Oh?' Severus was relieved, for Nelli if not himself, about the additional House-elves; chasing after these two boys was simply too much for her to deal with alone, and she had become increasing frazzled. Almost as much as he. But he ran through a mental list of possible 'mentors,' and didn't like the options that presented themselves. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to object, although he really despised these kinds of manipulations. 'And who might that be?'

'Why, Molly Weasley, naturally. She's a member of the Order, and obviously has a great deal of experience, as I'm sure you'll agree.' Albus chuckled at Severus' expression. 'Oh, now, don't worry. She has a son Harry and Draco's age, and she'll be bringing Ron along, too.'

Severus closed his eyes. His headache had reached the thundering stage. 'Ah. Perfect.'

---

'Uncle Sev didn't say I couldn't be in our room,' Draco said as he came in and sat on his bed. 'He just said I had to stay in our quarters.'

From the corner, where Harry crouched on his heels and waited to be punished, he tried to smile, but he was really scared. He'd lied to his father, and worse, Father knew it. Draco had been the one to knock over the armor, but Harry didn't want him to get sent back home, didn't want his friend to get hurt, so he'd stepped forward instead. But when he'd looked into Father's eyes, he'd known that Father could see into his mind.

Chewing his lip, he wondered if this time his father would hit him. Uncle Vernon hated lies, but seemed to like apologies, even for things that weren't Harry's fault. But it was hard to know what Father liked best.

'Come on,' Draco said. 'Let's have a game of chess.' He dug his set out of his trunk and started to set it up.

Despite the heavy feeling in his gut, Harry climbed to his feet and went to Draco's bed. 'Can we make 'em fight again?'

Draco nodded. 'But let's try a game first, all right? Then they can fight, after.'

'Okay.' Harry followed his friend's lead in setting up the pieces and started encouraging them to do what he wanted. After a dozen moves, it was obvious Draco had the advantage, though Harry was doing better than the last time. Of course, this time he wasn't throwing his pieces away.

One of Draco's knights took a rook of Harry's and as the bits of rook were swept from the board, Draco said, 'That was stupid, you know.'

Harry scowled, both over his rook, and the words. 'What was?'

'Telling your father it was you that knocked the armor over. Why'd you do it?'

'I didn't want you to get in trouble. I want you to stay here, and I didn't want him to send you away.' Would Father send Harry away? Was a lie worse than a squid? Frowning at the board, Harry considered throwing another of his pieces into the path of Draco's knight, just to see them get crushed. But he sighed instead.

'Well, thanks.' Draco smiled again. 'He's certainly not going to send you away. He's your father. He can't.'

Fat lot Draco knew. He'd already lost a Mum and Dad, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had wanted to be shut of him for a long time, and now they were. It was easy to be rid of people if you wanted to be.

---

It wasn't until after supper -- during which Father was almost silent, except for asking Harry to rest his dirty fork on the plate instead of the table -- that Harry was called into Father's study. The door closed behind Harry, leaving Draco in the sitting room with strict orders to, 'Read something or sit still, your choice. But stay on the settee.'

Father pointed to a chair by his desk and while Harry clambered into it, Father aimed his wand at the door and muttered a spell under his breath.

Harry shivered. His hands, though, were sweaty. The injured one ached, and he rubbed at it anxiously.

'Does you hand hurt?'

'No, sir.'

'Why are you rubbing at it then?'

Harry hitched up one shoulder. 'It aches a little.'

'You don't consider that hurting?'