Whelp

Gaze still on his hands, Harry frowned, surprised. 'No, sir.'

A sigh. 'Harry, look at me.' Biting his lip, he did so. Father was in his desk chair, his wand put away, and his forehead was wrinkled.

'Sorry, si -- er, Father.'

'Thank you for remembering.' Father's face was very still, even when he spoke, and his eyes looked tired. He didn't look angry, just . . . disappointed. Again.

'I'm sorry, Father.'

Father was silent for a long time before he opened a drawer of his desk and took out a slender bottle that was wide at the bottom and narrow at the top. He uncorked it and handed it to Harry. 'Drink that, please.'

Harry held it tight, though the cool glass was slippery in his hand. He stared at the light pink liquid inside, then back up at Father. He had lied. Was he going to get a lesson in watching his tongue? In his hand, the bottle shook. He didn't want to drink it. He didn't want to be hurt again; after yesterday and the lake, his throat was just starting to feel better. Would the potion make him throw up or would it just burn? Would it make his insides twist together like writhing snakes?

But Father had said he wouldn't hurt him, hadn't he? He'd said so.

'Harry . . .'

The note of warning cracked his resolve. 'Please, Father, I'm sorry! I won't lie again, I swear! I'm sorry, please don't make me drink it!'

Father's face crumpled and he covered his eyes with one hand. 'Oh, Harry.' He shook his head and then took back the little bottle. With Harry watching, he took a sip, like he had done back in Spinner's End, for the first few drinks Harry had been offered there. Holding out the bottle again, he said, 'It's for pain. Please drink the potion.'

Hands still shaking, Harry obeyed, holding his father's gaze the whole time. In seconds, the ache faded from his hand, and his side where the squid had bruised him. His chest still hurt, but that was just fear, Harry figured. 'Thank you,' he whispered, feeling stupid and ashamed. Of course Father wouldn't hurt him like that.

Father took back the empty bottle and set it on his desk. 'Thank you, Harry. I know life is different here, and you aren't used to it, or used to me. But understand me. I will not hit you, nor will I ever give you anything to eat or drink to cause you pain. Nor will I deny you food or lock you in a cupboard. I will not chain you in the yard, and I will not send you away.' He paused and moved as if he might try to grasp Harry's hand, but then rested his palm on the flat surface of his desk instead.

Harry nodded. 'Yes, Father.'

A flicker of something appeared in Father's eyes, gone swiftly, then, 'I expect I'll need to tell you these things again and again. One day, I hope you will believe me.'

Some of the tension leeched from Harry's chest. But he still didn't know how he would be punished.

Father watched him fidget, and though he was uncomfortable, Harry kept his gaze on Father's face. Another long few minutes passed in silence, with Harry worrying his lip. Finally, Father moved his hand, very slowly to cup Harry's cheek, and his thumb eased the lip out from between his teeth. Harry hung his head.

'I know you're expecting punishment for lying to me about who knocked over the suit of armor, but you have already been punished enough, by spending the afternoon in your room instead of being able to wander about freely.'

Harry jerked his head up. 'I have?'

'Yes.' Father grimaced like he'd just smelled something a bit off. 'Also, I want you to know that I understand why you took the blame for Draco. You were afraid of what would happen if he had to go home.'

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but then just gave a single nod. Father knew, there was no sense in making the lie worse.

'I admit,' Father continued, 'that I am glad you did not tell me that Draco was the one who bumped into the armor, for tattling on your friends is no way to keep them. You were loyal to your friend, and I have little problem with that, except when such loyalty is not reciprocated.'

Harry frowned, not really understanding.

'You're not in trouble, Harry,' Father said, watching his face. 'I am not angry or disappointed in you.'

Harry's frown deepened. 'Father?'

'I am disappointed that Draco did not offer you the same measure of loyalty you showed him. Remember, Harry, what we discussed about the Malfoys.'

The heaviness swelled anew in his chest. Father couldn't mean what he thought! 'That we had to be wary, but Father, Draco's my friend.'

'I know he is. But he will not always look out for your best interests. When his own interests are more important to him, like this afternoon, he will think of himself, not of you.'

'No! He wouldn't do that!' But in a tiny back corner of his mind, he knew what Father meant, and he saw how Father would think Draco didn't care about him, because he hadn't admitted to the accident. But it wasn't like that. Just, Harry didn't want him to be hurt, not when he could help it.

Father shook his head, and there was an odd edge to his voice when he spoke again. 'Your ideals of friendship are, I imagine, more absolute than other people's. You are still so trusting. Merlin knows how after all you've been through. I know you want to trust Draco. But Harry, please stay wary.'

The expression on Father's face more than anything else made Harry pause before arguing again. He looked so sad. Even more than worries about Draco, seeing his father like that made his chest hurt. Harry slid off his chair and moved till he was flush against Father's legs. Harry patted him on the shoulder, like Father had done for him. 'Don't be sad, Daddy,' he whispered. 'I'll be wary.'