jharad17 - Whelp

"Well. You can fly well ," Draco corrected, and Harry scowled at him. To his surprise, Draco grinned. "Mother's always telling me that one."

Harry grinned back, and reluctantly handed over the broom. "Have you any Gobstones? I can play those."

"Gobstones are for ba--" Draco stopped as Harry scowled again. "I mean, wouldn't you rather play a nice game of Wizard chess?"

TBC . . .

*Chapter 17*: Chapter 17

Whelp -- Chapter 17

By jharad17

Disclaimer: I'm not blond, nor rich. 'Nuff said.

Longer than normal A/Nat end. Apologies in advance.

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Severus sat at a small oblong table – small, in the Malfoy sense of the word, anyway, meaning it could only seat 12 – in their open air garden and sipped at his pre-tea tea. A susurrus of falling water from a nearby fountain was the only sound aside from the clink of spoons on china and the occasional bird call from the rows of trees that formed the west wall.

Narcissa watched him with cold indifference, but her aloofness was more than made up for by Lucius' close attention. The head of the Malfoy family was relaxed, for him, dressed in robes so dark green they were almost black, but with none of the elaborate piping or ribbons he often wore when he was out of an evening. And, for a miracle, his silver tipped cane was nowhere in sight, which only meant his wand was probably up his sleeve, as Severus' was.

Sitting back in his chair, Lucius turned his teacup around on the saucer, as he'd done three times already – Severus was nothing if not an inveterate watcher of other people's nervous habits – then let it go, reluctantly and gave Severus a knowing smile. "I hear you have taken a position at Hogwarts."

Though there was no particular inflection on the name of the school, Severus knew how Lucius liked to spar, and he would listen to Severus' response very carefully, for any sort of feelings Severus might project. He wasn't too worried; Lucius was a terrible Legilimens, and Severus' Occlumency was among the best in Britain. Still . . . it would never do to be foolish. "Indeed," he said blandly. "As Potions Master."

"Ah, finally got that Mastery, did you?"

"Yes," Severus said, and tried not to let the barb touch him. It had taken more funds than he was ever liable to see in one place to do the necessary practicals, and thus he'd needed to stretch them out over the course of several years. He very nearly could have made all the requisite potions in his sleep whilst still a student, but each had to be done in front of the review board. Of course, Lucius knew that. Money was just another tool he used to get what he wanted from people, and he hadn't wanted anything from Severus. Not then. "A year ago, now."

"Surely you remember, Luc darling." Narcissa smiled coolly over her own cup at her husband. "There was an announcement at Draco's birthday last fall."

"Ah, yes." Lucius smiled. "Of course. I must have given you my congratulations then."

Severus inclined his head.

"And a son! My, my, haven't we been busy."

Baring his teeth in a semblance of his trademark sneer, Severus said, "Harry is adopted, by blood rite."

Lucius' white-gold eyebrows rose and his hands fell to the teacup again. "Is he now. I imagine one must do all sorts of things to secure a position at Hogwarts."

"Indeed," Severus acknowledged. Let Lucius think he adopted the boy under duress, if he liked. It would be safer for Harry that way.

"And Dumbledore should prove an . . . interesting master."

He already is , Severus thought. Certainly as manipulative as the Dark Lord, Lucius, but not quite as mad. "I have no doubt."

Lucius graced him with a low chuckle, and moments later, a pair of house elves popped in with little trays of cucumber or watercress sandwiches, biscuits, and sliced fruit. They laid out plates and more tea, removed the old pot, and arranged the table with a speed that bespoke a well trained staff.

"Dobby," Lucius said. "Let the boys know tea is ready."

The house elf popped out after bowing and squeaking, "Right away, Master Malfoy, sir!" and the other finished fiddling with the silverware before it vanished, too.

Severus was glad the boys would be rejoining them; no matter that Draco was just a boy, he was Lucius' son, and Severus wanted to be sure that his son was safe. He'd warned Harry of things he was not to talk about, and told him to be on his guard, but, well, he was only seven years old. Anything could happen. And as they waited, and waited, for the boys to show, Severus became more and more convinced something had gone horribly wrong.

---

Frowning at the Wizard chess board, Harry asked again, "How do the knights move?" and was immediately sorry for doing so. The pieces – not just the knights, but the queens and half the pawns, too – started shouting at him to "Get on with it!" and "Over two, up one!" and "Lemme take him out; oh, please, I've always wanted to take a knight!" Also, Draco rolled his eyes again.

Harry hated that. "Sorry," he muttered.

Many of his pieces were gone, already, and he'd hardly taken any of Draco's, so he knew he was going to lose. Well, now he knew. At the start, he'd rather liked the way the pieces crashed into and smashed each other to dust, so he'd deliberately set up pieces to be destroyed, until Draco had caught on and made him stop, saying, "You're only s'pposed to kill my pieces," in a slightly whiny voice. "You're not even trying."

Well, Harry had been trying. He'd just not been trying to win. And now, there was no point to doing so. Chin cupped in one hand, he glanced up at Draco through his fringe. "Can't we just make 'em smash again? That was fun." With an almost sly smile, he added, "You've won anyway. You can smash up my king if you want."

Draco stared at him for a minute, and Harry thought the other boy might refuse, but then Draco nodded. "Well, all right. I did win, really."

After Draco exploded Harry's king in a satisfactory manner, they spent the next little while setting the pawns after one another, until all the pieces were complaining, and both boys were cheering on the combatants, over a table strewn with shards of chess pieces.

Then a house elf appeared beside the table and announced, "Master Malfoy is saying tea is served, sirs. Youse is to be going to the north garden now."

"Thank you," Harry said, standing up and starting to clean up the table.

The house elf's eyes – big, green balls, like ones for tennis – opened wider than Harry could have imagined was possible and then blinked once, slowly. Draco's eyes were wide, too, and he hissed, "You're not supposed to thank house elves ."

"Why not?" Harry asked, though he worried his lower lip. Dappin hadn't liked it much at first, but never said he couldn't . And Nelli didn't seem to mind at all. Besides, Harry wished someone had thanked him, even once, when he was house elf at the Dursleys.

Draco grimaced. "It's just not on. My father says so."

" My father says I'm supposed to be polite," Harry countered. "And it's polite to thank people who've done a job for you."

"But house elves aren't people ."

"They are so!" Harry shouted. The house elf in question was turning its head from boy to boy, watching them both with a horrified expression.

"Not like us! They're regulated ."

"What's that mean?"

Draco face was reddening, and it contrasted quite a lot with his pale, slicked-back hair. "I don't know! But it's bad, whatever it is, and they are it ."

Harry couldn't help himself. He laughed.