Severus had always hated his appearance. Knowing he could be anyone he wanted with the right potions didn't help, because underneath he'd always know who he was, skinny and sallow, greasy and ugly and wholly unpleasant, a boy who'd failed to make friends even in Slytherin.

A simple potion mixed into his shampoo cured the greasiness of his hair in a matter of weeks, with the side effect of speeding growth until the thick, glossy stuff fell past his shoulders. Another mixed into his morning tea took years of stains off his teeth, though he couldn't bring himself to spare the expense of having them straightened. His features he left as they were, unwilling to face a man in the mirror he couldn't properly recognise, but he began deliberately leaving off his hat and gloves when working in the garden, which darkened the pasty yellow of his skin to a pale olive, at least on his face and hands.

He was still a dour, unattractive man, with stained fingers and a dark past, but at least his hair invited touch rather than revulsion, and his teeth and skin were once again markedly different in hue, the way he could faintly remember seeing himself when he was a young boy, before adolescence and too much time indoors had robbed him of what little attractiveness he'd held. He stared at the two cards stuck to the mirror, allowing himself to flip up Potter's and read it one more time, eyes automatically skimming to the part that mattered to him the most.

There was an honesty in those lines that called to the same longing in Severus that had started this whole farce, the desire to not only give to his children what he did not have, but to finally have it for himself. Severus let himself hope, against all odds, that he might win the heart of a boy he once hated on sight, so that together they could become more than they were apart.

He flipped open Draco's card and let that warm him as well, the very brevity speaking to their long acquaintance and bringing to mind that dinner in his kitchen, the teas they'd had since, and how much less lonely his house became when Draco was there with him. It was his very desire not to impinge on Draco's future happiness that would keep Severus from trying too hard to win him, and the irony wasn't lost on him. He stepped back and looked at his clothing one more time, the mahogany brown silk of his robes bringing out the new colour in his cheeks and hanging elegantly on his spare frame. His hair had been pulled back in a simple tail with a silver clasp, and the crisp white of his undershirt showed at his wrists and throat, hinting at what lay underneath.

His expression was nervous and annoyed, mostly with himself and his own anxieties. He had called in any number of favours to facilitate this evening's events, to the point of playing to his own infamy to arrange the venue. He was rapidly realising the Courtship expenses alone would put him in the poorhouse if he did not marry well at the end, and that only added to the stress of an already monumental undertaking; his own foolish hopes for something like affection from his spouse only compounded his worries. He sighed and tried to put a pleasantly neutral expression on his face, hoping it would look a bit less nauseous by the time he'd made the trip to the gallery.

---

Commissioned art by Lizardspots

Harry and Draco were the last to arrive this time instead of the first, since Draco had insisted on inspecting Harry's clothing before they left, and Gaerwn had wanted to meet Hedwig afterward, impressed with the scratches she'd made on the wood in protest when she'd found herself unable to get into Harry's wardrobe.

Draco had shown up impeccably dressed in traditional robes of elf-spun spider silk that seemed to float around him like storm clouds, in every shade of grey imaginable. Gaerwn wore a serviceable set of linen robes dyed the exact green of his team colours, with a subtle pattern of kestrels woven into the fabric that flew and dived in silhouette. Harry had been planning on wearing the colour-changing robes, but those were vetoed in favour of simple black velvet robes that clung to him like a second skin, and reminded Harry uncomfortably of wearing a dress. He'd bought them on Madam Malkin's recommendation, but had secretly hoped they'd be one of Hedwig's first victims this year, as the silk velvet was soft and supple and woven through with protection spells.

Harry still felt like everyone could see what kind of pants he was wearing underneath, and had the disconcerting impression that Lenis at least approved wholeheartedly.

"Harry, Draco, Gaerwn, I'm so glad you all could make it," said Snape, his smile looking relieved though they'd arrived right on time. He turned to the other four and said, "Now that everyone is assembled, I am very happy to show you my surprise."

They all followed Snape from the spacious reception chamber of the Fizeau Gallery and into its interior, the walls lined with portraits, each spotlighted in a wide space of its own so that the viewer might converse with it in privacy. Harry didn't recognise most of the people, though everyone else seemed to, gasping and heading for one painting or another. He felt the air leave his own lungs when his eyes made it to the back of the room and found the one familiar face he was sure was here for him, the very portrait of Albus Dumbledore that normally resided in the Headmistress' office at Hogwarts.

"You may converse with the portraits freely," said Snape, his voice raised and echoing oddly in the large room. "There are spells in place to keep your conversation private, and when you feel the need for refreshment, a buffet has been provided." He gestured to the other side of the room where an impressive spread weighed down one large table, with three smaller ones scattered around it for people to sit and eat.

Harry wasn't sure he could stomach food, but he was grateful nonetheless. He went first to Snape, heart in his throat, and said softly, "Thank you for this, I... would you like to talk to him first?"

Snape shook his head, smiling sadly. "I have had ample opportunity to make my peace with the late Headmaster, Harry. This is your time."

Harry nodded and left without another word, not having any idea of how to reply even if he had been able to speak past the tightness in his throat. Dumbledore's death was one thing Harry had never been sure he could forgive in his heart, but he found that sometime in the past few years it had become just one more loss in a sea of loss. He stepped into the circle of light in front of Dumbledore's portrait, swallowing down all the accusations he'd spent years not saying.

"It's good to see you again," said Harry quietly, looking into the familiar face and feeling the old resentment sliding away at the sadness in Dumbledore's painted eyes.

"It is good to see you, as well, my boy," said Dumbledore, smiling up at Harry from the small canvas. "I was thrilled enough to insist Minerva loan my portrait out when Severus told me he was Courting you."

Harry couldn't help but return the smile. "Among others, yes, though I'm a lot more impressed than I thought I'd be," he said. He stepped a little closer to the painting and added softly, "I thought I resented you for manipulating my whole life, but I guess... I guess you gave up as much as I did, and it wasn't you that marked me in the first place."

"No, Harry, it was not me, though I have had a long time to regret the things which had to be done, once that terrible event occurred," said Dumbledore, face sober.

Harry nodded. "And Snape, he... you knew, didn't you, what he had to do?"

Dumbledore took a small box from his robes and popped a familiar smear of yellow into his mouth. "They never taste right anymore," he said sadly, then sighed. "Yes, Harry, Severus and I both knew what was to pass that night."

Harry found himself nodding again, letting the pieces finally snap together into places they'd already loosely occupied, his understanding sharpening painfully. "I can't say I'm happy you did it, but I understand now, I guess. I won't... I can't promise it won't affect the way I see him, but I know that I want it not to, just like I want him to see me as the man I am now and not the boy he knew in school, or a copy of my dad."

The twinkle was back in Dumbledore's eyes when Harry looked back up, a smile making his face seem nearly alive, as though Harry was looking through a window rather than at a portrait of a man long dead. "I would offer you a sweet, but I'm afraid the magic doesn't work the way we want it to."

Harry laughed. "It never does," he replied, looking over at Snape, who was standing by the buffet looking nervous and severe, and yet still better than he had in all the time Harry had known him. "It's all right, I'm more in the mood for something sour anyway."

Dumbledore was still chuckling when Harry left the area of the spell, the sound receding like a radio station fading out as he left the broadcast area.

"I take it you enjoyed your talk with the former Headmaster?" asked Snape, looking wary and weary both.

"Yes," said Harry. "You did a good thing, putting this together for us. Thank you."

Snape bowed his head in acknowledgement. "You are most welcome. It is unfortunate that many of those with whom you might wish to speak had no opportunity to have their portraits painted before they passed away."

"As much as it would have been nice to see my parents or Sirius," said Harry, keeping his voice steady with an effort as that tight feeling returned to his throat, "I'm not sure I'd want to, in front of this crowd. I know Dumbledore can fend for himself."

"Yes, the gallery would likely find itself mobbed on the morrow, were I to have procured a portrait of the Potters or the infamous Sirius Black for them," said Snape dryly. He softened just a touch and added, "I do wish there was a way to allow you to have the family you want, rather than having to settle for..."

"It's not settling," said Harry, surprising himself with his own vehemence. He laid a hand on Snape's arm and said more calmly, "I'm not stupid, I know I could have any witch or wizard I wanted if I tried, but just anyone won't... wouldn't understand."

"And you believe I do," said Snape, looking as though he might want to swallow the words and the unmistakable disbelief that accompanied them.

Harry shrugged. "More than most, at any rate," he said, snagging a plate off the table for something to do with his hands. "You'll never sit there wondering if I'm going to snap at the breakfast table one day and use an Unforgivable on you."

Snape laughed, and Harry relaxed minutely. "No, I would not," said Snape, and Harry found himself noticing Snape's looks, unable to pin down what he'd done to make himself more appealing, aside from the obvious washing and lengthening of his hair.

"You look good like this," said Harry, unable to hold back the tinge of surprise. "I'm sorry, I mean..."

Snape held up a hand. "It's all right, Harry, I know what you mean. It is gratifying to know that my efforts weren't for naught." He paused, eyes flicking down and then sliding more slowly back up Harry's body. "You are looking rather fetching tonight, yourself."

Harry flushed. "Malfoy made me wear them," he said, putting food on his plate between shy glances over at Snape. It was mostly finger foods, and Snape had apparently had the same restaurant cater, since there were baskets of some of the pasties that had graced Harry's plate at the first Courtship dinner.

"He has excellent taste," said Snape, waiting until Harry turned away to reach for something further down the table before adding, "They showcase your assets well."

Harry began mentally plotting ways to kill Malfoy.

---

Knowing that Potter would want to be the first to speak with the Headmaster's portrait, Draco made a beeline for one undoubtedly acquired with him in mind, Dame Amanita Malfoy, one of the ancestors who had fallen out of favour with his grandparents and been removed from the family gallery. He stepped into the pool of light with the portrait and said cheerfully, "Good evening, Great-great-grandmother."

"You must be Lucius' boy," she said, looking him over critically. The portrait had been painted near the end of her life, and she was an imposing old matron in heavy, jewel-encrusted robes that looked as though they might be supporting her rather than the other way around. "He married that Black woman, Narcissa, didn't he?"

Draco smiled. "Yes, Grandmother," he said. "I'm Draco Malfoy." He gave a little bow, old-fashioned nowadays but the height of good manners when speaking with a portrait of her age, or so he'd been taught.

"Hmph. You're less arrogant than your father, at least. That'll do you good in trying to salvage the family name, you know," she said.

"I see being outside the gallery hasn't kept you from hearing the news," said Draco wryly. "Would you like to hear my plans? I would love to get the advice of someone so honoured in her day."

Dame Malfoy appeared to consider this, though Draco recognized the glint of curiosity in her painted eyes. "So long as it's none of this pureblood nonsense. There's a difference between good breeding and foolish adherence to family lines. We aren't royals, and inbreeding is unbecoming anyone, even a wizard."

"That's very well-said, Grandmother, I can understand why you must have annoyed my grandfather," said Draco, trying very hard not to smirk.

She laughed. "He was an old fool, and unfortunately passed his ideas on to his son. I'm glad to see you haven't swallowed their swill."

Draco shrugged expressively. "I have seen all the places where the argument is flawed," he said. "Now, about my plans..." He settled in to give her a brief outline of his original ideas, and the ways in which he thought he'd have to change things, were he to marry Snape. She let him talk himself out, interjecting a question here and there, and he was surprised at how much better he felt once he got to the end of it. He hadn't had anyone to talk to about his ambitions that would properly understand; the family gallery were all of Lucius' ilk these days, though he vowed to try and restore some of his more moderate ancestors' portraits.

"It seems to me as though the affection you have for the man outweighs the setback his presence will give to your image," said his great-great-grandmother gently. They both glanced over to see Potter speaking with Snape, already done and standing by the buffet, plate of food in hand and looking entirely too delectable in his form-fitting robes. "Though it also seems you've a bit of competition."

"Not that I can blame him," said Draco wistfully. He found himself increasingly attracted to Potter, not just the echoes of his schoolboy obsession though those were certainly there, but to this new man who didn't care much what anyone thought, who had come to terms with the things life had denied him and learned to compensate, but still had that same clueless charm he'd exuded as a boy, as though all he wanted was to be loved.

"Oh, dear," said Dame Malfoy, glancing from him to the pair. "You, my boy, are well and truly doomed. Although... this is a Petitioner's Courtship, is it not?"

"Yes, for Snape to carry on his mother's line," said Draco, distracted still watching the two of them move to a table and sit.

"Well, perhaps you'll all work something out, then," she said with a satisfied air. "Now move along, I can see that young master Lenis is practically wetting himself with the desire to speak with me."

Draco turned the other way and found Lenis lurking in the shadows. "Oh," he said softly, wondering how much Lenis had seen of his expression and if it was as obvious as Dame Malfoy seemed to think. "It's been lovely speaking with you, Grandmother," said Draco, bowing again.

She inclined her head regally, then gave him the sort of smile Draco had always wanted to get from a doting grandparent. "Do visit me again, Draco. I enjoy you, and your plans."

"Slytherin to the core," he said, gently touching her hand with his fingertips, feeling the rough dryness of the paint and wondering if her skin would have been much different, had she still been alive.

"Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy," she replied with a wink. "Go on, go sit with your young men."

Draco blushed and nodded, letting his fingers trail over the gilt frame as he stepped out of the spell and into the hushed room. He glanced over at Snape and Potter, but he wanted to make one more stop before he let himself join them. He stepped into another circle, surprised that it was vacant although most of the others appeared thoroughly engaged by the portraits they were speaking to. "Good evening, Professor," he said formally.

"Mr. Malfoy, you've grown into a fine young man," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling. "I am given to understand that you have rethought your allegiances and are turning your energies to a more fruitful pursuit?"

Draco chuckled. "Yes, Headmaster. Severus was very open with me, after we fled school, and we talked about things in a way that made sense to me." Snape understood Draco's upbringing, and he'd used examples from Draco's experience at Hogwarts to refute every one of his father's prejudices. Draco hated that Hermione Granger had been one of Snape's prime examples, though he'd had a few moments of rather malicious glee when they'd discussed Longbottom as a failure of pure blood. "I've been trying to use my inheritance to rebuild and strengthen the wizarding world, rather than trying to control it as my father always wanted."

"Very wise for one so young," said Dumbledore, that infuriating smile widening even further. It had been easier to accept those truths from Snape, who he'd always respected, than the mad headmaster and his cronies. "I expect the status you'll regain for the Malfoy name will only be a bonus."

"I was in Slytherin, Headmaster," said Draco, as if that would explain everything.

Apparently, it explained enough. "And so you were," Dumbledore replied. "Well, seeing what you have become, I find it very easy to forgive your attempts to do away with me."

Draco felt something inside him relax, though he hadn't realised until that moment that this was what he'd wanted, some reassurance that the mistakes of his youth weren't so unforgivable as all that. "Thank you," he said quietly, a smile finding its way to his face despite himself.

"You're quite welcome," said Dumbledore. He gave Draco a shrewd look and asked, "You are allowing Severus a fair chance in Courting you, I hope?"

Draco glanced over to the buffet; Snape and Potter were still sitting alone at one table, and the unlikely pairing of Trimble and Malkin were sitting at one of the others, chatting amiably. "More than fair, I should think," he said, unable to hide the warm longing in his voice.

"Ah, I see. Excellent," said Dumbledore. He popped a painted sweet into his mouth and smiled, looking terribly satisfied with everything.

Draco snorted. "Yes, Headmaster. Thank you for your time," he said, eager to get away from the old fool and back to the process of doing what a Malfoy did best, getting what he wanted.

"You're very welcome, my dear boy," said Dumbledore, sitting back in his chair and looking for all the world as though he might have a nap.

"Good day," said Draco, taking himself swiftly out of earshot of any parting words.

Potter looked up and waved him over, and Draco tried to ignore the warmth that spread in his chest at the gesture. "I see you two are getting along," he said, giving Potter a teasing little nudge. "Is there room for one more?" he asked, despite the two empty chairs at the table.

Potter laughed. "Plenty," he said, scooting his chair back. "I'll go with you if you're going to eat, I want some more juice."

"Bring me a glass of red wine?" asked Snape, looking slightly bemused to find himself so much in demand.

"Of course, Severus," said Potter.

When they got over to the buffet, Potter whispered, "I'm going to kill you for making me wear these. I look like a, a trollop."

"Severus doesn't seem to mind," replied Draco calmly, taking up a plate and filling it from the delicacies on the table. "It's generally a good thing when one's future spouse wants to bed one, you know."

Potter flushed. "I suppose, it's just... embarrassing."

Draco gave him a little nudge. "Don't be embarrassed. You'll have him eating out of the palm of your hand in no time," said Draco. "It's the secret to dealing with a man like Severus," he added, thinking of his parents and the way Narcissa had often handled his father, "You have something he wants, and you remind him how much more interesting it is to be pleasant than difficult."

Potter laughed, shaking his head as he poured a generous glass of wine for Snape, and one of pumpkin juice for himself. "You're definitely Slytherin," he said, giving Draco a friendly nudge. "It's a good thing I can't have you both, I'd be totally outnumbered."

Draco was almost glad when Potter left to rejoin Snape, as he had no idea what to say to that in light of his own newfound frustration with wanting them both. Now that he'd admitted it to himself, Draco was finding it a lot harder to ignore the confused longing that had settled in below his breastbone. He shrugged, took a few more of the truffles Snape had so kindly acquired, and headed back to sit with them.

"...so if you complete the Courtship then it doesn't matter how many, er, Petitions you've got it covering?" Potter was asking.

"Well, not precisely," said Snape. "This Courtship was specifically registered for the purpose of regaining my mother's name, so the only thing you could add on at the end would be something unusual in the marriage."

"Like a threesome," said Draco impishly, sitting deliberately between them. "Or marriage with someone who would otherwise not be allowed that right, though that would jeopardize his first goal in that case, which is why there are none of those here."

"So, if Lupin wanted to get married, he'd have to do this Petitioner thing?" asked Potter, appalled.

"Precisely," said Snape with a smirk.

"Just think," said Draco, determined not to let the conversation wander until he'd assessed his chances at getting what he wanted after all, "you could end up with two lovely young husbands instead of just one." He laid a hand on Potter's arm and fluttered his eyelashes, then turned and did the same to Snape.

Potter flushed, but he was not to be deterred. "Why do they make you go through it at all? I mean, it's awfully old-fashioned, isn't it?"

"It is our way," said Snape, sounding a bit put out by Harry's questions. "Our culture requires that something of such value be earned rather than simply demanded."

"I guess that makes sense, it just all seems a bit mercenary to me," said Potter, looking sulky. He was nibbling on one of those pasties, mouth pink and probably cool from the pumpkin juice, sweet and a little spicy from the pasty.

Draco tried to keep his mind on things, turning to look at Snape. Snape took a sip from his wineglass, throat working, lips stained briefly red until his tongue slipped out to catch the stray drops, and Draco swallowed as well, throat feeling unaccountably dry.

"A surprising number of marriages are made for reasons other than love," Snape was saying, a statement with which Draco could only agree. "And while it is true that it would likely be loveless were I to end up with someone such as Lenis, there are others here with whom I hope to find at least some small measure of affection."

"Marry someone you like and want, and hope for the best, you mean?" asked Potter curiously.

"Sounds like what most people do," said Gaerwn, turning the last chair around and sitting backwards in it, facing the three of them. "Thanks for finding that portrait of my great-Uncle, my mum will love to protest when Da drags her to come see it."

They all chuckled, though Potter looked annoyed at the change of subject. Snape nodded his acknowledgement and said smoothly, "I am sure they will all find plenty to talk to him about, considering the prejudice you mentioned about your professional choice."

Draco snickered. "That's one way to put it," he said, getting a laugh from Gaerwn as well. "Were your parents madly in love?"

"Oh, possibly," said Gaerwn with a shrug. "They are now, anyway, at least the mad part. Keeps them happy, and that's what counts."

"Yes," said Potter thoughtfully. "I suppose it is."

---

Harry nibbled at his food and wondered if he'd made a fool of himself again. He was trying to form the words for another question when Lenis slithered up to the table, looking more unctuous than ever. "I believe I ought to be jealous," he said, leaning casually against the back of Malfoy's chair, "All the most handsome men at one table, and no room for me."

"And here I thought I was supposed to be wooing you with empty flattery," said Snape dryly.

Harry sniggered, and got kicked in the ankle by Malfoy. "I don't know," he said to Snape, glancing significantly at Gaerwn and Malfoy as well, "You've got that whole, how did Flourish put it, dark hero thing going on."

"Not to mention the implications of that nose," said Gaerwn with a decidedly dirty chuckle.

Lenis flushed; apparently this wasn't quite how he'd expected the conversation to go. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he said, his voice a bit less warm. "Severus, I wanted to compliment you on your choice of events. It's almost a shame the next few are dictated by custom."

It was Malfoy who spoke up this time. "There's still a bit of room for him to show his creativity within those restraints," he said, giving Snape a sly look. "The venue for the tea, for instance, and of course his gift to each of us."

"A mere token," said Snape modestly, and Harry thought he saw a flash of something move through Snape's normally unreadable eyes. "Though I do hope the first gift I gave you has been of some use?"

Lenis smiled, back on familiar ground. "Yes, very much so. Your expertise is such that the potion far outstrips what I'm used to."

"Quality of ingredients goes a long way as well," said Snape with a little smile. "I find that many of the current group will skimp, thinking that the client will never notice in a brew of that nature."

Harry was beginning to wonder what on earth Snape had made for him, and was about to give in and ask when Ms. Malkin came giggling over with Frannie in tow. "You simply must settle something for us," said Malkin with one of her annoying little titters, completely ignoring that Snape had obviously been in the middle of another conversation. "I bet Frannie a Sickle that you would put it in the marriage contract that your new spouse has to bear all the children, and she thinks you'd let them knock you up, if you end up with a man."

"I'm afraid that Ms. Frumple is correct. I would not ask of my husband what I am not willing to do myself," said Snape, his face utterly deadpan as though women asked him about his future plans to become pregnant all the time.

Harry swallowed, and a bit of juice went down the wrong pipe, starting him on a coughing fit as he tried to banish the mental images of Snape, heavy with child and displaying all his usual temper and the infamous mood swings of a mother-to-be as well.

Malfoy patted him on the back a bit more vigorously than necessary and added sweetly, "You know, in three-wizard marriages it is usual for each man to carry one child, so that there's no question who is heir to whom."

Harry shot him an evil glare, then gave in to his own curiosity and asked in a raspy voice, "How d'you get the kids out, anyway?"

Everyone looked shocked for a moment, then the girls twittered like nervous birds while Gaerwn tried very hard not to laugh. "Magic, Potter," said Malfoy with a roll of his eyes. "There is a spell to remove the child unharmed after nine months, followed by a potion which allows the body to reabsorb the unnatural organs."

"Ew," said Harry, feeling a bit green at the thought.

Snape laughed.

"I feel as though I've missed the merriment!" said Trimble cheerfully, wandering over from his moment with Dumbledore's portrait. "Delightful idea, Severus, I got some great business tips from Great-great-grand-uncle Mellifluous."

Snape nodded an acknowledgement. "I did attempt to borrow the Trumble portrait of your common ancestor, but they were most unwilling to part with her," he said.

Harry had to admire how smoothly Slytherin the statement was, implying to all of them that it had been great effort to get what portraits he could, and that perhaps there had been a more desirable choice that he had been simply unable to procure. "I'm quite happy with your choice for me, Severus," said Harry, managing to make it an empty, pleasant compliment suitable for the audience.

"Yes, Grandmother Amanita was a delight to speak with," said Malfoy, which prompted a wave of all of them thanking Snape.

Snape took the compliments with something like grace, though he was looking awfully smug by the end of it, not that Harry could blame him. "You are all very welcome," he said at last, raising his wineglass and then standing. "I don't believe a formal toast is necessary, but why don't you all try some of the excellent wine." He moved away from the table and the four standing followed, leaving Harry with his cooling plate, Malfoy, and Gaerwn.

"I'm going to go get something to eat, but save my seat," said Gaerwn with a wink.

Just Malfoy, then. Harry swallowed, feeling unaccountably nervous about being alone with him. "So, he has to give us tea and more gifts," said Harry, thinking back to the conversation with Lenis, "Is the next round something specific, like the dinner was?"

Malfoy nodded absently, watching the group ebb and flow around the buffet, though Snape was the real centre of attention. "Weekend in the country. He doesn't own a home so he'll be expected to rent out some sort of bed and breakfast for the five remaining and himself."

"That sounds like something out of a romance novel," said Harry, making a face. "Is there to be some sort of horrid ball or garden party as well?"

Malfoy laughed, turning to look at Harry. "I'm sure you'll survive. You can bring Hedwig and your nameless kneazle, anyway."

"Algernon," said Harry, taking a bite of one of the cheese-filled leaves and finding it still warm and pleasantly gooey inside.

"What?" asked Malfoy, looking at him as though he'd gone mad, or was possibly speaking in tongues.

"I named him. The kneazle, I mean. Algernon," said Harry with his mouth full.

Malfoy held the look a moment longer, then shrugged. "Hedwig and Algernon, then. If you tell Severus at your tea that you want to, he'll arrange for them to stay with you."

Harry swallowed the chewy mouthful with a bit of effort and said, "I dunno, what if Hedwig takes a liking to one of the stray owls? I'd hate to be responsible for everyone's wardrobes."

There didn't seem to be much Malfoy could say to that, so he turned his attention back to the group surrounding Snape, leaving Harry to eat in peace.