Chapter 4 – What Did You Do?

“What did you do, Severus?”

He had been sitting on the stoop for the last three hours, waiting for Snape to wander home. He had a clear view of the restaurant from the stoop, but Snape had not emerged.

“Had dinner. ’Sgreat. Drinks at McLarens. Should’ve called you to join…” Snape tripped.

Draco, already annoyed, was not amused. He moved to catch Snape, but the older wizard had righted himself and now stood looming over him, swaying to music only he could hear.

“What in God’s name did you say to her, Severus?”

“Very proud Puggle, you are. Make your mother proud. Honor. Family.”

Draco couldn’t keep a straight face. “Puggle? I’m a dog?”

“Y’know, pure-blood born. Like a Muggle with a 'P'.” Snape abruptly sank to the stoop next to him, long legs stretched out, and head resting against the door frame.

“Look, I’m not going to get any information out of you drunk. I'll go and get a Sobering Draught for you.”

Snape giggled. “Had a lotta draughts tonight already.” He began counting off on his fingers. “Guinness draughts. Harp draughts. Draughty winds.” The protuberance he called a nose didn’t allow for him get away with laughing while drunk, and he snorted quite loudly. Draco rolled his eyes.

“’Sides, if you open the door, I’ll fall over. Ask your questions, Draco.” Snape sat bolt upright, looking as if he was trying with all his might to remain straight and focused. A slight wobbling betrayed his efforts to appear sober.

“Severus, what happened?”

“Why d’you ask?” To Draco, Snape sounded guilty and defensive. “She say something to you?”

Draco dug in his pocket before bringing forth what looked to be a hastily scribbled note, which he handed to his drunken godfather. Snape fumbled for his reading glasses for several moments before Draco took pity on him and enlarged the parchment.

Dear Master Malfoy,

You scored a 68/100 on your Muggle Aptitude Test (MAT), falling two points below the required score to exempt yourself from ARDEC’s program. In certain instances when the score is close to 70, an interview with a close friend will enable ARDEC to overlook this deficiency. My interview with Master Snape did little to convince me to push you through the program in spite of your score. In fact, the assessment of your character given by Master Snape concerned me greatly, and in light of his comments, I will be extending the initial period of counseling from four weeks to six. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you. Please send me your current schedule, and I will do my utmost to accommodate your needs. ARDEC wishes for this process to be meaningful for you, and I look forward to meeting with you as soon as possible.

Regards,
H. Granger, OM, 2nd Class.

Snape looked at him with what Draco supposed was a weird mix of guilt and pity. It ended up coming across as constipated. “Bollocks…” Snape finally mumbled.

Draco couldn’t wait until Snape sobered up to learn what went on and pressed forward with his questions. “So, as I asked, Severus. What. The. Hell. Happened?”

“Granger came in. Pretty. Stupid hair thingy, but pretty. Ordered the usually—usual. Pissed her off. She asked me questions. Told her you wouldn’t hurt nobody, including Muggles. Shoulda said ‘specially Muggles. Said you wanted to make your family image better. Took that bad, she did. Stormed out. Had to finish the beer m’self…”

Snape swayed once again and returned to leaning against the door frame.

Draco sighed. It was just as he thought; Snape had tried to make him sound noble, but the Gryffindor in Hermione couldn’t translate “Slytherin” and was just too stubborn to look at the world in any way but her own.

“Wouldn’t hurt her to have to learn a bit about pure-blood culture…” Draco mused aloud.

“D’ya mean?”

“Well… I mean, I know my father all but removed me from the family, but my heritage is still mine. It may be laced with racism and anti-Muggle sentiment, but there is some good to it. My parents taught me to be proud of who I am and to strive to be my best. If my struggles to bring something positive back to my family name means not continuing the bigoted behavior I learned from my father... then I really don’t understand why that’s not a good enough reason for my respect of Muggles now.”

“Bloody… bushy-haired, buck-toothed know-it-all…” Snape attempted to clap him on the back in a movement of solidarity but missed and instead scraped his palms as he caught himself on the concrete of the stairs.

Draco grinned. “And just a moment ago, you were telling me she was pretty…”

Snape looked up at him, attempting to pull a sober face. “Pretty know-it-all. I’ll tell her so, I will, and I’ll tell her she should be nice to you. First sleep, then defend. Stupid pretty wench…” Snape slumped towards him, snoring before Draco caught him against his shoulder. Making sure no one was watching, he cast a Levitation Charm on Snape before taking him back into their house.

Depositing Snape into his bed, Draco went downstairs and searched for a piece of parchment. Not finding one right away, he dug in his computer desk for a sticky note and a permanent marker, scrawled Granger a note, stuck it to his owl, and sent her on her way.

---

Draco awoke the next morning to an incredibly loud pounding sound. Assuming it was Severus searching for a Hangover Potion, he rolled over and ignored it, hoping it would pass. When the knocking somehow became louder, followed by a shrill, “Draco Malfoy, you better get your arse down here or I swear to God I’m making you move in with me until you learn to use a bloody alarm clock!”

Darkness still cloaked the skies and Draco heard a low roar from the other bedroom.

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking bint!” moaned his roommate.

The brutal kick at the front door let him know Granger heard Snape. Sometimes, thin walls were completely worth it.

Draco paused long enough at the mirror to make his hair even messier before trudging down the stairs.

He opened the door and surveyed her, red-faced and frazzled. “Can I help you, Granger?”

Hermione snorted, taking in his appearance. The spots of pink that graced her cheeks surprised him.

“Boxers, Malfoy? And I thought pure-bloods wore nothing under their robes…”

“I thought I’d dress up just for you, Granger.” He waggled his eyebrows, trying to throw her off guard. A supercilious sniff was the only response he received.

“You said you’d be ready any time today; I’m available now.”

He glanced at her wristwatch to see what time it was. “It’s five o’clock in the morning, Granger!”

“Yes, and I have work at nine, so this gives us plenty of time, doesn’t it?”

“Am I not your work? Shouldn’t you have plenty of time after nine, too?”

“Of course,” she simpered, “but I have much better things I could be doing at work today. And besides, I wouldn’t want to keep you from the rest of your day.”

“Oh yes, Granger. I’m sure McLarens will be missing their bar back terribly if I have to call in because of my “therapy.”

“Bar back? You’re working behind a Muggle bar?”

Draco stiffened; he hadn’t meant to tell her that. “Please do come in,” he barked, a little louder than was necessary. He was pretty sure he heard a “Go ‘way” wailed from the floor above, followed by the sound of retching.

“If you would excuse me for a moment?” He motioned for her to sit before climbing the stairs to put on some more appropriate clothing. Seeing the look on her face when he opened the door half naked was worth the trip back up the rickety stairs. Throwing on a t-shirt and jeans, he stopped by Snape’s room just long enough to Vanish the sick on the floor and conjure him a bucket.

“There’s Hangover Potion in the bathroom closet, Sev.”

“Thanks, Puggle.” Snape responded.

Draco sighed. Clearly, Snape remembered last night, and he wasn’t going to let that one go any time soon. Returning downstairs, Draco sat on the couch opposite her.

She sat primly, straightening the seams of her ever-present skirt.

“So what’s the assignment today, Granger? Are we going to watch a soap opera? Learn to make homemade pasta fagiole? Talk about my feelings?”

She grimaced. “No, we’re going to do a research assignment.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement. Draco groaned. Only she would be this excited about making him read. Well, except for maybe Severus.

“And what is the nature of this assignment?”

“Boot up your computer. I want you to research your history.”

Draco bristled. “I’ll have you know my grades in History of Magic were second only to yours, Granger.”

She smiled. “Not your magical history, Malfoy. Your British history.”

He groaned, realizing she wasn’t here early to get on with her day… she just wanted more time in the day to do research.

Flashing him a beatific smile, she walked towards the kitchen.

“We’re going to need tea, Malfoy. Lots and lots of tea.”

---

After hours of research and endless pots of tea and less than adequate sandwiches, Draco cracked.

“This is pointless, Granger! Yes, I get it; England used to rule the world, England has a wicked royal history, England birthed Shakespeare. How does this help me?” He broke off, exasperated beyond all measure.

“It’s your history, Draco! It should make you proud!”

“No, Granger, this is your history. Muggle kings haven't had control over us since the Dark Ages! Yes, they may be legally attached to the country I call home, but this is not my history.”

“How dare you, Malfoy! You should be proud to call this country yours. Why, the kings and queens of England have been shining examples to all of mankind of nobility and civility and—”

“Inbreeding?” Draco smirked. He loved taking the wind out of her sails.

She sputtered, trying to find any sort of retort.

“You know I’m right, Granger. Mary and Philip. Victoria and Albert. Elizabeth and Philip. Shall I continue?”

She glared.

“But they are the nobility of England and should be admired and respected, yes? Better than everyone else because of their breeding and civility? The very attitudes you condemn me for because I was born pure—”

“You know very well that’s different, Malfoy.”

“How so? I fully recognize that pure-bloods aren’t any better at magic or learning; your grades alone made me learn that the hard way. And clearly, the most powerful wizards of my life—namely Severus, Harry, and the Dark Lord—half-bloods, all of them. Yet, in your ignorance, you force this learning upon me; you tell me that I should be proud of this history I have no connection to and respect it far more than my own. No, Granger, I will not. My family has done some incredibly horrific things throughout history, both the Malfoys and the Blacks, but they taught me to be proud of myself and who I am. My lineage is a part of me and a source of pride that I will pass along to my children. And you, madam, with your love of your own history and your disdain for mine, will not take that away from me.”

Draco hadn’t realized he was pontificating until he finished. He’d gone from seated to standing and now looked down at her. Hermione's face turned pale, and her eyes darted around the room. She looked as if she were for the first time realizing she may be wrong about the way she viewed the wizarding world. He pitied her at that moment, knowing how hard it must be for such a know-it-all to admit she could be wrong about something so important. Before he could say anything to her, the other resident know-it-all killed the moment.

“Well, well, well,” said Snape, punctuating his words with slow clapping. He winced, hangover written all over his face, and stopped his mock applause. “Fine words, Draco. I suppose from the look on Miss Granger’s face that today’s session is over?”

Hermione averted her eyes from both of them, and Draco couldn’t be more torn between amusement at her expense and compassion towards her. He didn’t like it.

“Splendid. Now then, Miss Granger, kindly remove yourself from my home. I have Hangover Potion to brew, and it would not do for one of your ubiquitous hairs to fall into the cauldron at an inopportune moment.”

She scuttled through the room, picking up her belongings without reply.

The front door clicked shut, and Snape chuckled. “Sorry it took so long for me to kick her out, Draco.”

Draco waved him off. “No, it’s good that you stayed away. I think Granger and I shall be able to work together now. If nothing else, we’ve come to an understanding. Maybe this process will be over sooner than we envisioned.”

He fell silent, pondering what had just happened and what it would mean for the future of his “therapy.” Would she come back? Would he be assigned a new case worker? Would they send him to Azkaban for failure to comply with the wishes of an officer of the Ministry?

Snape looked at him, searching Draco’s face with his eyes. He seemed about to offer some comfort, but Draco cut him off.

“Now then, where’s that potion you need?” With a flick of his wrist, a bottle zoomed through the house.

Snape grinned. “Yes, I thought that was a nice touch. As if I wouldn’t have Hangover Potion in my home. I am a Potions master after all.”

The men sat in quiet camaraderie on the couch, Snape sipping his amber potion while Draco sipped his tea, both finding comfort in the action.

Eventually, the silence became awkward. Draco, not as forgiving of last night as he probably should have been, broke the tension.

“So, pretty know-it-all, Severus? Sounds like someone’s got a crush on my therapist…”

Snape affixed him with a look usually reserved for cauldron-melters. “Shut your face… Puggle.”

---

AN: I love clairvoyant—she beats my words into submission!