jharad17 - Whelp

And as if realizing the silliness of their argument, Draco, too, burst out laughing a moment later.

"Sirs . . ." the house elf ventured after a while, when they showed no signs of calming down. "Master Malfoy . . . tea . . ."

Draco, holding his sides after he'd been practically rolling around on the floor, grinned at Harry before saying, perfectly politely, "Thank you, Dobby. Please let him know we're on the way."

Dobby gaped at them both a moment longer, then jerked his head in a nod and popped out. Then Harry and his new friend raced downstairs.

---

When Dobby the house elf appeared, instead of the boys, and looking a bit wild-eyed, Severus gave the creature a hard look, but didn't immediately jump to his feet and start interrogating it, like he wanted.

"Where are they?" Lucius asked, obviously annoyed by his son's tardiness, but not appearing particularly concerned.

"Th-they is o-on the way, M-m-master Malfoy, sir."

Lucius' eyes narrowed at Dobby; the little elf's behavior did seem out of the ordinary. It was trembling and its eyes, if possible, were even larger than before. "What else do you wish to tell me?" he asked coldly.

"N-n-nothing, Master Malfoy, sir! Dobby is g-giving the young s-s-sirs your message, Master Malfoy, sir, and the young sirs is on their way, now, yes, they are!"

"Very well," Lucius said, though he did not look mollified in the least. "You may go."

"Yes, sir, Master Malfoy!"

True to the house elf's word, the boys tore into the garden a moment later, looking breathless and sweaty and rather rumpled. But both were grinning, and Severus relaxed a fraction.

Lucius, however, pierced his son with a hard look. "What is the meaning of this, Draco?"

Draco stood straighter and adjusted his robes, which were askew, either from their running, or some other activity. The boy then clasped his hands behind his back and jutted his chin out slightly. "Forgive me, Father. Harry and I were finishing a game of Wizard chess."

Severus caught the look that Harry shot at Draco, even as Harry copied Draco's pose, and his straightening, but he wasn't sure Lucius did. Something was off, here . . .

Lucius stood and strode toward the boys. His cane had appeared from no where, and clacked on the ground with each step. "When you are called to tea, does that mean finishing a game first, and arriving when it pleases you?"

Draco looked down briefly, then back up at his father and swallowed hard. "No, sir."

With one hand caressing the silver pommel of his cane, Lucius looked both boys up and down. Severus' gut tightened, but he willed himself to stay his hand . . . unless the elder Malfoy made any kind of move towards Harry. For his part, Harry stared at the cane, and from where he sat, Severus could see the slight tremors in the boy's body. His wand slipped into his hand.

But after another strained moment, Lucius merely said, "Do not force me to remind you of your manners again today."

Face smoothing out, Draco breathed and said, "No, sir. I won't."

"Good boy. Now, come and sit down and tell us all about this game of yours." Lucius was all smiles now, once his control of the situation was acknowledged by his progeny.

For a second, Harry looked like he might fall over from relief, but then he gamely followed Draco to the table, and Severus forbore to draw any further attention to him by rising to assist him. Harry gave him a small, furtive smile, which he returned in kind.

"I beat Harry soundly, Father," Draco boasted. "Got almost all his pieces and his king."

Severus suppressed a snort. How could the boy not beat Harry, if Harry had never played before? But Lucius said, "Well done, well done," and then eyed Harry who was looking at Draco askance, even while waiting for the others to serve themselves before taking anything from the trays. "Strategy not your best thing, is it, Harry?"

Harry's brows drew down briefly, and Severus wondered if he even knew what strategy meant, but then the boy just said, "No, sir," and he knew Harry was falling back on what he knew best when speaking to adults.

"Ah, well. We can't all be gifted, I daresay," Lucius murmured, with a smirk in Severus' direction.

Severus wondered briefly how far off the grounds he could get if he were to wipe that expression off Malfoy's face permanently. But all he did was smile lightly back and take another sip of tea. To Harry, he gave a nod, silently reminding him that he was allowed to take what he wanted from the trays, and he was amused to see that here, too, his son copied Draco's mannerisms as much as possible.

Perhaps some good would come of this, after all.

---

Right after they got home – the Hogwarts home, not the Spinner's End one – Harry was surprised when Father asked him, "What really caused you to be late for tea?"

He didn't bother to ask how Father knew Draco had been lying, but he did think about how best to apologize for not correcting Draco at the time. Nibbling his lip, he tried to think about it, but his hesitation must have made Father really angry, 'cause his tone was very sharp a second later. "It's a simple question, Harry! I won't allow impertinence."

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry said quickly, and managed – just – to stand his ground. "I didn't want to lie."

"I did not accuse you of lying. I asked you what you were doing." Father's gaze was as sharp as his tone, and Harry nearly flinched from it.

"Yes, sir. We were playing Wizard's chess. At first. But then we had a fight about the house elf."

Father frowned. "Why would you quarrel about such a thing?"

"Well . . ." Harry tried to recall exactly, and stared at his shoes.

"Harry . . ."

Harry jerked his head up to look at his father again. He knew Father disliked it when he couldn't see Harry's face when they talked. It was just so hard, sometimes, especially when Father was angry. He took a deep breath. "Yes, sir. Sorry. Erm, well . . . I said 'thank you' to Dobby for telling us to come to tea, and Draco said you don't tell them 'thank you,' and I asked why not, and he said they weren't people, but they are , and then he said they were regular , but didn't know what it meant, so I laughed at him, 'cause that's stupid, to not thank someone, and you don't even know why, really, and then he laughed, too, and then we were late."

When Harry finished and took another breath, he noticed Father wasn't frowning anymore, but his eyes were still narrowed. "And you didn't correct his account of the reason for your tardiness because . . ."

"I didn't want him to get hit, sir," Harry said very quietly. He swallowed again, still holding his father's fathomless gaze. "Canes hurt."

Father sighed and now gave Harry that almost sad look he sometimes wore. "Yes. I guess they do. I must apologize, Harry. I was worried that something had happened that you were afraid to tell me, and in my concern, I have once again given you cause to fear me."

"No, Father, really. I'm not—"

"It's all right," Father said. "I have a . . . temper. I know it. I shall work harder in the future to modulate my tone."

Harry gave him a small smile, which he returned, though his was still awfully sad. But then Father crouched down and opened his arms, like he'd done a few times before. This time, for the first time, Harry stepped into the hug he was offered, and when his father put one hand around his back and another on his head, patting his hair gently, he didn't even flinch. He rested his head on Father's chest, listening to his heart beat, and the arms squeezed him a little tighter, making all the sharp words fall away.

"Perhaps we can have Draco spend some time here," Father said after a few minutes. "Would you like that?"