Indifference Towards Difference || Harry Potter

6 | Rules Within Rules Within Rules

Harry almost started backwards as a house-elf popped into existence, large eyes focused feverently on Snape.

No more kittens from Hermione then.

"Is Master Snape needing something from Minky?"

"Not as of now, Minky. Mr Potter will be staying with us for the remainder of the summer." At this, Minky turned quickly to look at Harry. "If he requests your service, you are to appear to him. Unless he requires diamond-encrusted cutlery, in which case feel free to refuse. Mr Potter's ego knows no bounds."

Your benevolance knows no bounds, you great, greasy, grouchy, grumpy—

"Yes, Master Snape, Minky is understanding. Is there anything more Master Snape is needing of Minky?"

"No. You may go now." And Minky popped away.

"Have you any questions?" At this Snape leaned forward, with his something-stupid-will-come-out-of-your-mouth-and-I-am-prepared-for-it face.

Here, Harry hesitated. Questions... questions were bad. Questions were dangerous. Freaks didn't get to ask questions—that was rule number one: don't ask questions. Freaks dealt with that they were given, no matter how little.

Only Harry wasn't sure what rules he ought to play by. A moment ago he would've assumed Dursley rules: no noise, no questions, no thinking, no feeling— nothing of anything other than breathing when necessary and doing chores. But Snape had said he could ask at least one question...the only problem was that if Harry blurted out every single dumb question he had, he'd be here until Snape decided to just kill him out of pure exasperation. He had a month at least for these questions to be answered. And staying on as-good-as-possible terms with Snape was important.

With that in mind, Harry spoke. "Does anyone know I'm...not at the Dursleys, sir? It's just...I'm meant to write to someone in the Order every three days...?"

Snape studied him for a moment before answering. "Members of the Order have been made aware that you are no longer at your relatives, though the surveillance rotation around your residence is still ongoing. However, they do not know that you are here specifically...it would therefore be wise if you didn't reveal you are...in my company."

Snape had made a good point. He didn't think Mrs Weasley could handle another rescue mission involing a flying car.

"Have you any other questions?"

Why you? Will Hedwig be able to find me? What has Dumbledore been doing? Where's Remus? Why the stinking, sodding hell is Malfoy here? How do you own a manor? Do you have plans on chopping me up into potion ingredents—

No, he needed to think. He'd already lasted almost three hours at Snape with all his limbs relatively intact, and he quite wanted to stay that way.

"Sir, the schedule says training—"

Snape rolled his eyes upwards. "If you have a problem with that, Potter—"

"No, Professor, I don't." Merlin, he really needed to learn to think a little more before he spoke. "I just wanted to ask...don't I have the Trace on me, because I'm underage? I mean, if training means—"

"The Ministry will not be able to detect any underage, magical occurrences. According to them, this place does not exist. They will remain completely nescient of this building until the Secret Keeper wishes to divulge the location of this manner. Indeed," Snape smirked, "the Ministry is known for being ignorant, so supposedly not much has changed for them."

Does the man just say arsey stuff solely for his own amusement?

"Is there anything more you need, Potter?" For a moment Harry swore the man's eyes flickered up to his black eye. But it wasn't like Snape would kiss it better. Not that Harry would ever want him to— that was just all levels of ick and ew—

"Nothing, sir. Goodnight." And that ought to have been all. But just as he left the dining room, Harry swore he heard a small whisper, one that melded quietly with the silence.

Not another one...

But all he could hear now was the portraits up the first staircase murmuring in sleep, and a headache thrumming happily in his skull.

***

"Potter looks like shit." Draco Malfoy sipped his cocoa, watching his godfather glide about his lab with his usual spooky elegance.

"Language, Draco." There was no stern reprimand there; Draco knew him well enough for that.

"Fine. Potter looks like he's just been trampled by a hippogriff."

"And you would have experience in that quarter, yes?"

Draco grumbled a little, taking a more forceful gulp of his cocoa as Snape tidied up his lab.

"What do you think happened to him?"

"Are you starting to care for our boy hero, Draco?"

"No!" The Slytherin said adamantly. "But it's always good to know what sort of trouble he gets into. Makes for good entertainment."

"Pitiful excuse, Draco. Besides, it's Potter. All the trouble the boy gets into could fill every tome in my possession and more." With a final swish of his wand, he'd locked up his lab. "Now finish your cocoa and to bed with you, Draco. Remember what I said?"

"You only told me Merlin knows how many times..."

"No invitation to confrontation." Snape said as though repeating himself for... well, only Merlin knew how many times.

"And I didn't." Draco groused. "You saw—"

"I know, Draco." Snape gave a small squeeze to the blond's shoulder. His response was almost sad, the way he straightened proudly, something that wasn't not a smile appearing on his face. "To bed now. I'll come to bid you goodnight."

"Salazar's sake, I'm not a child..." but anyone could tell the young Slytherin wasn't really complaining.

Meanwhile, one Harry Potter still lay awake, staring into his own hopeless, green eyes, waiting for a response that would never come. After a moment he sighed defeatedly, placing the mirror on the bedside drawer. Perhaps tomorrow...

The Boy-Who-Lived stared up at the panels of his four-poster bed, and wished, just for this one night, that his sleep would be dreamless. And it was. Mercifully so.

But he also should have known...good things for Harry James Potter always came with a price.

***

A/N: I would've made Draco drink Earl Grey tea, if not for three things: 1) Draco with a cocoa moustache, 2) Snape saying 'cocoa' and trying to sound cold and serious, 3) cocoa > tea any day. I'm probably a disgrace to England now, I'm sorry.